Page 79 of The Merciless Ones

I rush to her. “Britta!” I gasp, shaking her, but she’s unconscious, the energy inside her only a dim shadow of what it once was. She pushed herself too far.

I raise my hands to my head, frustrated. “Infinity take it! What do we do now?” The wall is still too far, and we can’t emerge from the shelter without being shot down. The jatu have already begun aiming their flaming arrows at this section of the Warthu Bera grounds.

Belcalis sighs. “I don’t know, Deka, I—”

“Shh, do you hear that?” Adwapa says abruptly.

I stop, my muscles tensing when a whooshing sound emerges in the distance, swiftly followed by panicked shouts, all of them rising from the Warthu Bera’s walls. It doesn’t sound like Ixa’s wings – those have more of a flapping quality to them. Instead, this whooshing sounds elegant, like some sort of gigantic bird. And I’ve heard it before. Numerous times, in fact.

Asha stills. “Is that what I think it is?”

I peek through a crack in the side of Britta’s shield, and my eyes immediately widen. There, winging her way towards the Warthu Bera, her body glowing softly against the moonless sky, is Melanis, Ixa flying behind her. I stare, shocked. How did she get here? And why is she here, for that matter?

“Melanis?” I call out, uncertain.

“What are you doing, cowering under that stone, honoured Nuru?” the Firstborn asks, casually swooping down to grab a jatu off the battlements – Commander Xipil, from the looks of his highly ornamented armour.

“Please, let me go,” the short, burly man snivels, a disgraceful display Captain Kelechi – the tall, stern jatu who commanded the Warthu Bera’s walls when I lived here – would absolutely never have indulged in. “Please…” he whines.

Melanis flicks him a bored gaze. “Very well,” she says.

Then she drops him.

As I stare, still confused by her sudden arrival, Belcalis pulls the bagba from the satchel at her side and starts swiftly mixing the ingredients, priming them for explosion. She shrugs when she notices my expression. “Now or never, while they’re distracted,” she says.

I nod, finally remembering myself. Then I turn to the others. “Brace yourselves,” I command. “Belcalis is about to throw the bagba.”

I have barely enough time to huddle before Belcalis abruptly darts out and tosses the bagba onto the portion of the gate Keita previously pointed out. The explosion is immediate – the entire area reverberates as chunks of wood and stone fly. Screams rise; the smell of burnt bodies, seared flesh. By the time I emerge from behind the stone shield, ears ringing, a hole occupies the portion of the wall where the gate used to be.

“Take the walls!” The shout rises up from behind us, and then the karmokos are running past, the alaki army at their heels.

Adwapa, Asha and Keita, who are still dazed by the blast, follow after them, leaping through the wall of flames. I remain where I am, next to Belcalis, who’s still shaken from the blast, and Britta, who remains unconscious.

Belcalis gathers Britta in her arms. “I’ll take care of her while I regain my bearings,” she says in an overly loud voice. The explosion must have damaged her hearing, since she was so close to it. She’ll soon recover, however. “Go,” she urges, waving me onwards.

But when I peek around the shield, the fire still looms, the heat, the stench of burning bodies suddenly so intense, I tremble. I clasp my hands together, trying to breathe. Trying to stand. I am in control, not my body, I remind myself sternly. I will not give in to my memories. I will not panic—

A brown hand stretches in front of me. “Need help?” Keita asks, somehow back by my side.

He’s staring at the wall of flames rising in front of us, that strange, almost faraway look in his eyes. He’s fascinated by the flames, just as he said. Or is it fear that haunts his gaze? The sight unnerves me enough to push aside my whirling thoughts.

I accept his hand, then turn his face to mine and inhale. “It’s time to confront the fire, Keita,” I say gently. “For both of us.” Then I pull his war mask down, over his face, grateful that it’s made of divine gold, just like the rest of his armour. It should protect him from the heat, if he’s quick enough.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“Ready.” He nods, and then we run into the flames.

The fire is hot – hotter than I could have imagined – but the heat lasts mere moments, and then we’re on the other side of it, entering the Warthu Bera’s outer wall through the massive hole Belcalis blasted there. As I gape, shocked at how easy it was to overcome my memories of fire, the army of alaki and deathshrieks swiftly dart past, only to just as swiftly stop.

Footsteps are sounding. Deep, rhythmic – familiar.

I watch, dread mounting, as the lines of Forsworn march over the bridge connecting the outer and inner walls, and then form a single line across the small courtyard that occupies the middle of the Warthu Bera’s inner wall. The deathshriek commanding them is immediately familiar, as is his deadly flower-petal-shaped spear: the jatu leader from the Oyomosin.

When he sees me watching, he growls – a low, rumbling sound. “Nuru,” he smirks. “How did I know I’d find you here?”

I’m so shocked I can understand him, all I can do is stare. “I understand you,” I gasp, pushing forward.

Behind me, Melanis swiftly darts down, Ixa accompanying her. “Deka,” she hisses. “Do not speak to that abomination.”