No wonder men loyal to the Dahaka are turning on the commander. “But in the Dustlands, we’ll be hunted by Scavs,” I say, glancing at Roshan, whose face is tight with rage.
Aran shakes his head and hands both Roshan and me a pile of clothing each. “They don’t come this close to the fortress. We will be well. Put those on.”
I don’t believe him, but I stand and swipe a hand over my gritty face, before going into the adjacent room to pull on the blessed change of clothes that he brought, grateful I don’t have to try to brave the desert in filmy silk. A tunic and trousers instead of a dress, thank the heavens, and sturdy boots.
When I’m dressed, with my dagger secured and my nerves calmed somewhat, I give them a brave nod, and we leave as quietly as we can.
We follow the tunnel for a few minutes, until we reach a series of rungs embedded in the rock wall, rising up to a distant hatch. I swallow down my fear of the Scavs and climb, and all too soon, fresh air hits my face. The Dustlands are cool, the light of the half-moon and the twinkle of stars the only pinpricks in the darkness. The soft howl of some animal makes me jump. I peek over my shoulder to the rising walls of the battlements. We’re not that far from the perimeter of the Indraloka, which means we have to get out of sight.
Huddling together, we run hard and fast toward the west.
Behind us, I hear another howl, followed by a series of hoots much too close for comfort. The odd pitch makes me stumble. Are they wolves or coyotes? Or something worse?
“Rosh—”
A hand darts out and pulls me behind a tall rock, and another hand wraps around my mouth—Roshan’s. He gently presses me to my knees, and I tremble between him and Aran, peering anxiously into the surrounding darkness. My heart is going to pound its way out of my chest, the fear overwhelming. Out of instinct, I reach for my dagger. I feel better holding it, but I’m careful not to incite any magic that might make it glow.
Calm, calm, calm.
“We’re being tracked,” Roshan whispers.
Oh,fuck. By what kind of animal?
The realization is like a brittle slap. Not animals.Scavs.
“They’re sentries, so we have a chance. Just don’t move for now and stay quiet.”
I try to think back to what I know about Scavs. They work in packs like hyenas, sending out trackers and hunters in smaller groups that function as part of a larger group. Sentries sound deceptively benign, but all Scavs are deadly, hooked on Jade and not something you want to come up against.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
Roshan swallows. “We have two choices: keep going and hope they move on, or take our chances facing them.”
“Neither of those sounds good.”
We freeze as a few more of those unholy howls and short, owl-like hoots echo on the wind. “Fuck,” Roshan whispers. “Guess we stay put, hide behind this rock, and hope that they go right past us.”
“I could incinerate them,” I offer quietly.
Roshan hesitates but shakes his head. “Even if you could get rid of these scouts, more of them won’t be far behind.”
Despite it being my suggestion, I’m glad he’s nixed it. The thought of killing anyone—even Scavs—leaves me cold. And if my soul bound in akasha does indeed end up being for grabs to one of the twin gods, I want to do everything I can to control the outcome.
It seems like hours pass as we crouch there waiting. And then... movement, a stone’s throw away.They’re here!
The smell is the first thing to assault us, and I fight the bile rising in my throat at the foul odor of decay on the wind. I hold my breath, my body starting to quiver. Roshan notices and slips his hand into mine to squeeze reassuringly. “Breathe through your mouth,” he says softly into my ear, his fingers tightening. I focus on breathing, willing my heart to slow its stampeding pace. I’m white-knuckling the hilt of my dagger.
Heavy footsteps halt.
“False alarm,” a deep male voice says, and I nearly jump out of my skin at how close the Scav is to our position.
“Are you sure?” The other voice is raspy as though something has strangled its throat. I clamp Roshan’s palm in a numb grip, hairs rising in terror.
“Coyotes?” a nasal female voice chimes in as I silently triangulate the three of them to us.
“Too big,” the second replies. “Keep looking. Decker says he saw movement.”
A grunt of agreement.
