My vision tilts and a pair of hands catch my body.
‘You complete fool,’ Cemil says, but he doesn’t sound angry. ‘Let’s go,’ he orders.
I scoop up Arezu’s body. We flee to the gates, where the other squadrons have retreated. Corpses block the exit, forcing us to climb over them. On the other side, Alif Adel’s eyes blaze black. He points to the southern monastery where the last ghûls have flocked.
‘We blow it apart.’
I understand his intention. ‘Even if there are survivors.’
‘There are none,’ he answers. ‘Mitra are in the communes. We have no more reinforcements. We kill themnowbefore they slaughter the entire township and move into the central Camel Road.’ Then he seizes me bythe shoulders. ‘Our people need us. Use whatever incense remains and meditate.’
We do. Cemil had a marked spot during the battle, and his affinity transmutes pockets of Yabghu’s smokeless fire to the southern corners of the township. Meanwhile, I pull from the Heavens, combining my bonds into a colossal mass. Then I tear the nur into three strips like silver linen. Adel’s currents clash into it.
‘Widen it into Yabghu’s heat!’ he snaps.
Digging in my heels, I envision it expanding. Adel commands the currents at each sphere of nur and smokeless fire, waving them toward the monastery. When the light vortex reaches it, his strength as a Seven-Slash causes several explosions in the southern quarter until nothing but debris and smoke remain. The ghûls die on each impact and any human bodies left are shredded apart.
Then silence.
Adel inclines his face to the sky, grief evident.
‘A difficult battle won, warriors.’
38
Reinforcements and supplies arrive from eastern Khor. For hours, warriors and villagers alike sift for bodies through the once fertile valley. The survivors are tended to in a healing tent, and I help distribute rations with Katayoun. Cemil had simply cursed at the carnage of the township, hands shaking, before storming off.
Hours later, after a medic wraps my shoulder, I am granted a short rest. I force myself to address the corpse, laid next to thousands of martyrs, tied with raven-feathered cloth.
When my hands lift the sheet, my sleeve muffles my cry.
Arezu is still dead.
I stand there, frozen. When Alif Adel crosses through the rows of bodies and passes me, I tug at his tunic.
‘Tell me that I imagined it.’
‘Imagined what?’
My voice veers into something ugly. ‘Tell me. I want to forget, I want to be wrong,please—’
‘Underling.’ He pries my hands off.
I point wildly to the body.‘Tell me that’s not Arezu.’
His expression falls. ‘Arezu deserted a month ago from the pazktab.’
I fall on to my hands. ‘No.’
‘It’s true.’
Ice claws my chest. ‘I had a right to know—’
His face is firmed against remorse. ‘Your overseers would never jeopardise this war for personal attachments. Arezu had not yet enlisted. She was simply a brave pazktab girl who fled hastily to defend her township. If word spread of a child running away, it would set a dangerous precedent in the pazktab. What if her peers foolishly followed her? If we had informed you, you would have left your posting. In war, we makedifficult decisions, and as your superiors, Yabghu and I decided against informing you.’
All the signs were there. Arezu spoke of her hopes to defend Khor. She begged me to lie about the realities of war – she ached for their comfort so she could believe she had a chance to live. She was a scared girl diving into the throes of battle. When she promised to reunite with me after the war, she was lying to me as much as I was lying to her.
‘You knew,’ I croak.
