“For Kapastra!” Mehti shouted, vanishing after him.
Dania and I glanced at each other in silent understanding. I peeled a corner of the canvas back and peeked around. When I couldn’t find any animals or waiting threats, I nodded at Diya. “Would you like to dramatically fling yourself first, or shall I?”
“I hope Ayume has a taste for empty air,” she said. “It will find plenty between their ears.” Diya pulled her knees to her chest and drew herself through the opening.
I tightened my stomach and vaulted up. The sun blazed overhead, stinging my cheeks. The cheerful conditions clashed with the smell assaulting my nose. Sweet decay with a rotten edge. I had doused many a cloth with an identical-smelling substance during my route, including the one I used to put Zeinab’s mother to sleep.
Ayume’s assault began with its very air.
We were permitted to bring only a small dagger with us. Holding my breath, I pulled mine free and cut a large triangle from the bottom of my tunic. I tied two of the ends behind my head, covering my nose and mouth with the makeshift mask. The protection it afforded would dwindle the longer I remained in the forest. Rationing my breaths was critical.
The landscape was identical to the drawings I’d looked through my first week. The hill sloped into a lake running along the perimeter of the trees. The forest stretched like a roll of darkness, dense and lethally quiet. Beyond it, the clouds cut around our ultimate goal: the cliff.
I took a step down and nearly lost my footing. The hill was steep, covered in loose dirt and sediment. I tried to squint past the sun’s glare to study the dimensions of the lake. If it stretched too widely at this juncture, I’d need to double back. Any error would waste precious time and put me closer to traipsing Ayume in the dark, the effects of the sour-smelling air dulling my senses.
Stabbing my dagger into the soil for leverage, I hiked down the slope in stops and starts. The sun cast dazzling white diamonds on the lake’s surface. Spiderlike eddies traveled into the main body of water, the lake’s glittering surface disappearing between the trees.
My reflection stared nervously up at me. After the Urabi’s attack in Essam, I had practiced climbing the rope against the river’s current for a week. Forced my body to push forward despite Hirun’s indomitable insistence to the contrary. I heard Arin’s stern warning as if told in the present. Dark magic is embedded in Ayume, and nowhere more so than in its lake. The lake is a void, with water more viscous than sand. Under no circumstance should you allow the water to submerge you completely. Keep your head aloft. Let yourself sink, and the lake will never release you.
If not for the scarcity of daylight, I could circle the lake and forgo crossing it completely. The Alcalah tested more than an ability to finish; a Champion’s physical prowess came second to their ability to balance choices. Discernment, Arin called it. Filling my chest with the tainted air, I sealed my lips shut and waded into the lake. The water was shockingly cold, and it sucked at my legs, coaxing me deeper. I twined my hands behind my neck and lifted my chin. The water hugged my waist, lapping higher with each step.
When the water reached my shoulders, the ground disappeared below me. I lowered my arms and kicked, paddling through the tar-like water. The weight of the lake was a rebellion against logic, and my lungs burned for air before I was halfway across. Something long and slippery wrapped itself around my thigh, winding around my leg. It flitted away, but not before terror filled the limited capacity of my chest.
Have you forgotten our first lesson? Panic erases all skill, any training. Keep your head and do what needs to be done, Hanim commanded.
I tipped my chin back, keeping my face pointed to the sun as the water swallowed my neck. The water hardened. My legs slogged uselessly against the resistance. The lake caressed my cheeks, sliding at my lower lip.
Is this how Fairel had woken up after the horses trampled her legs? Fairel, who had only wanted to protect Nadia’s chairs. She would never join the young women balancing pots on their heads as they ambled through Mahair. She would never chase the ducks escaping Yuli’s farm or scale Essam’s trees. Fairel would lead a full life, because her spirit demanded nothing less, but it was not the life she would have had if not for Felix of Omal.
Pain pricked in my deadened arms. Magic flooded my body, and I gasped as sensation returned to my limbs. The water loosened around me, becoming malleable again. I swam, relishing the sharp discomfort of the cuffs, and nearly wept when I made contact with solid ground. I staggered from the lake. Any attempts to save my breath flew away as I panted like a dog in an Orbanian summer.