Helplessly, my lips pull into a smile. Crafty woman. She’s right. It’s not a question of accepting his condition. Rather, it is a question of how far I will go to bring Notus back. And I realize there is one thing I haven’t done, one thing that may wake the South Wind from his cursed sleep.
I shove to my feet, skin buzzing with an emotion I dare not name. “I’ll be back.”
She dips her chin, mouth curved in satisfaction. “I’ll keep watch over Notus for you.”
As I suspected she would. As for me…
I need a horse.
Hours later, I summit Mount Syr. An arid wind plucks at my hair, and I promptly dismount, Zainab wandering to graze whatever scant weeds shove through the cracks in the earth. The sky overhead is a great, swallowing mouth, poised to engulf the world whole. In the distance, Ishmah shimmers behind waves of heat, a blurred spot of red.
No time to waste. As I imagine Father did long ago, I kneel before the great throne overlooking Ammara, this holiest of sanctuaries. I’mso overcome by desperation I feel woozy. What if this does not work? Then again, what if it does?
“Lord of the Mountain, I beseech you. Please, will you grant me your time?”
The air flickers, and when I next blink, the Lord of the Mountain —Eurus—becomes visible, gracing the massive throne. He is prodigious, immense. Two spots of brightness burn inside the shadowy cowl of his hood.
Hello, Sarai.The low rasp of his voice scrapes along my nerve endings.I did not expect to see you again so soon.
Neither did I. Leaning forward, I allow my forehead to brush the eroded stone of the bottom step. Today, I am strong, and for all the days after. “Lord of the Mountain. Twenty-five years ago, my father prostrated himself at your feet, begging you to save my life. Now I have come to ask for a similar favor.”
The god is quiet. He watches me with predatory stillness.
“Notus has succumbed to eternal sleep,” I say. “I need to know how to reverse it.”
A hot wind skates over the barren earth. It smells not of the desert, but of sweet rain. When I glance skyward, however, I find not a cloud to mar the blue stretch.
How did this come to pass?the god asks.
Briefly, I explain the circumstances leading to the South Wind’s current state.
Describe this dagger.
“It was old, tarnished. There was an emerald set into its pommel.”
He straightens—the only indication of interest.Emerald, you say?I nod, curious.If that is true, it seems this Prince Balior managed to acquire a god-touched blade himself. The emerald pommel is indicative of any blade owned by the god Sleep. He coats them in a powerful elixir, which Notus has succumbed to. Unfortunately,the Lord of the Mountain goes on,it means Notus is beyond my help.He does not sound at all upset by this, though I suppose I should not be surprised, considering the brothers’ most recent interaction.Not even I have the strength to overpower Sleep’s influence.
“Then who does?” Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the divine, it’s that there always exists one of greater authority.
It doesn’t matter. You are mortal and are not permitted to speak with them.
“Says who?”
The Council of Gods.
If I’m not mistaken, Notus once mentioned this council. They were responsible for the Four Winds’—the Anemoi’s—banishment. Notus and Boreas, Eurus and Zephyrus, all exiled to opposite corners of the world. The odds are not in my favor, but I refuse to give up. “Please.” Once more, I lean forward until my forehead skims the stone. “I know you have no loyalty to your brother, but do you not have loyalty to yourself and what is right?”
The silence speaks. It tells me this god considers my words, albeit reluctantly.I can’t help you,he eventually says, the voice inside my mind riddled with cold,but there may be someone who can. Boreas—our eldest brother.
I sit upright. The sun is most bright. “How can I find him?”
You already know how.
“I assure you, I don’t.”
He drags a finger down the arm of the stone chair.There’s nothing more I can give you. The rest is up to you.
He claims I already know how to find Boreas, a god I have never met. All I know of him is that he rules over the Deadlands, the realm of the darkwalkers.
