We Shall Be Monsters, page 21
She knew it was a useless thing to say. Tav’s soldiers had fallen here, and now he was wending through their graves, the set of his mouth grim and his eyes overly bright.
Something plucked the sleeve of her kurti, tugged the end of her braid. She kept moving forward, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. The distant cries of battle rose and waned with the wind.
A low hum on her right snagged her attention. There was nothing there—only diseased, forsaken ground. But when she looked away, the hum grew persistent, eventually forcing her gaze back to the same spot.
Where there was emptiness before now stood a soldier. Not the wraithlike form of a bhuta, but a tangible, walking corpse.
Kajal collided into Tav. He grabbed her arms and whispered, “What—?” before he saw the same thing.
The soldier was filthy, the green fabric and brass nails of his chilta hazar masha covered in dirt and dried, browned blood. His helmet was gone, revealing a head that had been brutally caved in on one side by some large, blunt weapon. Bits of stark white bone peeked through, one of his eyeballs dangling from its socket.
“What’s happening?” Tav’s fingers dug into Kajal’s arms. “I thought there were only bhutas here?”
Kajal couldn’t take her eyes off the soldier. He stood listing to one side, mouth slack, arms hanging loose. There was no sign of decay on him, but through the blood and dirt she detected thin ribbons of black creeping down his hands and up his neck, toward his face.
The blight had taken over the barrows, infecting the bodies. Had their bhutas been forced back inside their ruined flesh, allowing them to break free of their graves?
Whispers rushed by on the wind as her heart pounded, and the soldier took an ungainly step forward. Tav pulled her behind him.
“What do we do?” he whispered.
It took her a couple attempts to speak. “D-Don’t react. Keep going.”
“Don’t react?”
“It’s what they want.” The bhutas may have repossessed their bodies, but they likely hunted the same way. Kajal twisted out of his grip and gestured for Kutaa to go on ahead. “If we leave them alone, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
Tav’s mouth worked soundlessly. Even Kutaa looked between her and the shuffling soldier as if trying to decide whether to heed her order or attack. At her insistent nod, he continued to sniff his way through the barrows.
Despite the cold, the dogged pursuit of the soldier behind them sent hot sparks of panic through her. For the first time, she realized they should have procured some sort of weapon for Tav. She had a scalpel, but what good would that do against the undead?
A fist punched through the nearest mound, and Kajal slapped a hand over her mouth. The soldier that broke free stared at them with blank eyes, blood splashed across her face. She pitifully crawled after them, gray hands clawing through the dirt, the ropy intestines that spilled from her stomach dragging behind her.
“Geetha,” Tav breathed. Kajal read horror in the rounding of his eyes and the trembling of his mouth.
“Don’t look at them,” Kajal warned. “Stop feeding your emotions.”
Tav labored for breath. He shut his eyes and assumed the mudra again, whispering mantras under his breath. The corpse slowed down, but barely.
All around them, the barrows shook and cracked. Kutaa growled as bodies rose, more and more of Tav’s soldiers coming to welcome their leader back.
Kajal pushed Tav between the shoulder blades. “Kutaa, hurry!”
The dog started trotting. The butterflies abandoned their search, fluttering above crumbling earth and flailing limbs. Tav continued to whisper mantras, which kept the soldiers sitting in their graves or swaying where they stood.
The harder Kajal’s heart beat, the louder she heard the tune of Lotus Blossom. If Lasya showed up, would she attack the bhutas, or return to strangling Kajal?
She didn’t want to find out.
Finally, Kutaa stopped beside a mound slightly smaller than the others. It was intact, and far enough away from the edges of the field to not yet be touched by blight. Only a few feet away lay the remains of Tav’s own grave, his abandoned armor gleaming dully in the gray light.
Kajal didn’t know whether to laugh or swear. Advaith had been this close?
“Is this…?” Tav knelt beside Kutaa, hands hovering over the mound. In the distance, the undead soldiers watched on—unmoving, silent.
He glanced at the armor they’d abandoned last time. “Is that where you found me?”
Kajal nodded.
“This doesn’t make sense. How could he have been here, next to me?”
Kajal wetted her chapped lips as the whine blew through her ears. “Maybe it has something to do with the holes in your memory.”
Tav’s butterflies flapped in agitation above him. The soldiers twitched and moved forward.
“Emotions,” Kajal reminded him.
Tav took a deep breath. Another. The soldiers paused again. Kajal came around the other side, facing him, and their eyes met with determination.
Quickly, they dug through the mound with their hands. Dirt collected under Kajal’s nails, carrying the iron-rich smell of blood. For a moment, she was outside of Siphar, carving out a grave in damp earth. The whine flared.
The soil gave way and revealed an arm, then part of a chest. Tav exhaled as if someone had kicked him, and dug faster. Even Kutaa helped by pawing at the base of the mound. The body was dressed not in the chilta hazar masha of the soldiers, but in a simple red padded tunic, which was stiff with old blood. Kajal uncovered a hand, a gold-and-ruby ring shining on its fourth finger.
Tav pushed away more dirt in an effort to uncover his brother’s face. “It’s him. He’s—” Tav froze.
When Kajal realized why, a javelin of ice shot down her spine.
Advaith’s head was missing.
Tav stared, uncomprehending, at the sharp line of his brother’s neck. Kutaa whined, and Kajal tore her gaze away to see what the dog had found—or rather, not found.
The prince’s bottom half was also missing. Everything below the waist was gone, his body ending in a stump of exposed meat and bone.
Kajal didn’t know when her hands began to shake. Didn’t know when the whine began to climb higher. Didn’t know when the soldiers began not to shamble but to run.
Kutaa barked, jolting her into action. She leapt over Advaith’s torso and grabbed Tav.
“Stop!” she yelled. “The soldiers—”
“Why?” The single word was strangled. “Why is he like this?”
“I don’t know, but—”
“Where’s his head?” Tav scrambled around in the dirt as if the crown prince’s head was merely buried under its own tiny mound. “Where are his legs?”
“Tav!”
He noticed the advancing soldiers. He stood and held out his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he chanted in a low voice.
“Sudarshana chakra, enlighten me with the gods’ will.” Sweat ran in rivulets down his temples. “Sudarshana chakra, grant me the power to defend.”
He repeated the mantra once more, but the weapon refused to materialize in his waiting hands. The corpses were closing in. With a curse, Tav dove for the remains of his barrow, grabbing the rusted talwar Kajal and the rebels had left behind. Kajal took out her scalpel.
Tav pointed the talwar’s tip at the soldiers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” One of them stepped out ahead, a large man with a mustache plastered in blood. “Jaideep, please—”
But whoever Jaideep was or had once been, he didn’t recognize the prince now. The corpse lunged forward, ready to grab and rend.
Tav moved. It was swift and elegant, hardly more than a flash of steel and light, the deva’s energy coating the blade like blue fire. Jaideep staggered, arms severed at the elbows.
As Tav fended off the soldiers, Kajal grabbed Advaith’s arms to pull him away. He wasn’t that heavy—missing half a body helped—and Kajal managed to wrap an arm around his chest.
“Damn it,” she panted. Kutaa stood before her, snapping his jaws at the soldiers. “Why did you have to be—”
Her words fled. There, under the spot where her hand pressed against Advaith’s chest, came a faint flutter.
It was weak and abnormally slow, but there was no mistaking it. Advaith’s heart was beating.
Nausea roiled through her. She nearly hurled the torso away from her, but she was too stricken to do more than stare at the exposed stump of the prince’s neck.
Kutaa barked, startling her into looking up. No matter how fast and skilled Tav was, there were too many blighted bodies around them, black veins pulsing along their skin. One woman staggered forward as black bile poured from her mouth and down her chin.
“Don’t touch the blight!” Kajal called. “It’s poison!”
Tav kicked the woman away and backed up. The tide of dead continued to press in. Tav couldn’t cut down every soldier on his own. Kajal had to do something.
She had to make a path for them to escape.
Kajal ducked her head. Though she had ignored and resisted the whine before, she now focused on its thin, high note of warning. The melody of Lotus Blossom threaded through the sound, soft and discordant, and she joined in with her own harmony.
She had never called upon the bhuta before. It had always been Lasya’s decision, Lasya’s intention, to appear when she wanted. But if Kajal granted her permission to wreak destruction after having denied her…
“Lasya,” she whispered under the din. “Lasya, I need help.”
The whine faded and the melody cut off. Kajal opened her eyes. Before her floated her sister’s specter, eyes burning crimson in the gloom. It was as if she was silently passing judgment—determining whether or not they should pick up where they’d left off. Lasya’s face was inscrutable, terrible and cold, the darkened side of a globe when turned away from the light.
But there had to be light in there somewhere. Kajal couldn’t risk believing otherwise.
At last, Lasya turned and moved toward Tav. As he lifted his weapon to block an advancing soldier, Lasya raised her hand and blasted Tav backward. He tumbled through the dirt and stopped near where Kajal crouched with Advaith’s body.
Coughing, Tav got to his knees. “What—?” He couldn’t see Lasya, but he noticed Kajal’s expression. “Is…Is that her?”
Kajal, throat too tight to speak, could only nod.
She wasn’t controlling Lasya. She had only pleaded for protection and laid herself at her sister’s mercy. It seemed Lasya had decided to be generous today.
Lasya faced the blighted bodies and spread her hands out before her. The whine kicked up again, shrill enough to make Kajal cringe. A vaporous light surrounded the bhuta, shooting out from the tips of her fingers as if they were arrows.
They pierced the soldiers through the chest. The bodies convulsed, staggering and shivering and letting out ghastly keens. Tav gripped his sword tight, the radiance along the blade sputtering.
Then, one by one, the soldiers turned and walked or crawled back to their barrows. Kajal’s hold on Advaith loosened as they lay down and let the diseased earth creep over their bodies, shrouding them from further decay.
Lasya lowered her arms and looked over her shoulder at Kajal. Their eyes met, one pair dark and the other red.
“Burn me,” Lasya said, her voice no longer a ghostly whisper, but flat and clear. “Kill me.”
Then she was gone.
Kajal slumped over and caught her breath. Her vision spun as she dug her fingertips into the dirt, pulse pounding like a war drum.
Lasya had saved her before at the Harama Plain, but that had been a whirlwind of furious rage and strength, a stalling tactic. This time, her power had been controlled, deliberate, and strong enough to overcome the other bhutas’ wills.
Her sister was becoming far too powerful. Then again, without her, Kajal and Tav would have been torn limb from limb. Was this something Kajal could replicate? Could Lasya be not just a vengeful spirit, but a weapon?
Kajal was immediately flooded with shame. Lasya was not something to be used. Her gentle sister would never have wanted to be a weapon—would never have wanted to become one of Kajal’s experiments. Would never have wanted to be a bhuta.
“Kajal?” Tav put a hand on her shoulder. “Did she hurt you again?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” She shifted and realized she was still holding Advaith. “I…His heart…”
Tav’s hand dropped to his brother’s chest, and he felt the unnatural pulse for himself. He turned nearly as gray as the corpses. “How is this possible? He’s— He’s dead, he—” His voice was thick with anguish. “No one can suffer these injuries and still be alive!”
“I have no idea. Do you smell any of his missing limbs around?” she asked Kutaa, who gave a soft huff, which she took to mean no.
Tav stared down at his dismembered brother, tears leaving clear paths on his dirty cheeks.
“How are we supposed to resurrect him if he’s not whole?” Tav whispered.
Kajal didn’t know. She had performed wonders with Kutaa and Tav, but to bring the crown prince back now would be a true marvel.
Chapter Twenty
They rode back to Suraj in silence. Kajal had brought the same bag Tav’s corpse had been stored in, packed now with unblighted dirt and what was left of Advaith’s body. It lay behind her like saddlebags.
She couldn’t stop dwelling on its faint heartbeat, or what it could possibly mean. She rubbed her hand against her thigh as if to dislodge the sensation. Still, the larger part of her longed to study the torso, wondering about its circulation—there was no blood—or whether this indicated Advaith wasn’t truly dead.
She doubted Tav would appreciate the scrutiny, though.
Tav didn’t want to exhaust their horse, so they took a couple breaks to sit in the grass and nibble on venison jerky and nuts. Whenever Kajal glanced at him, he was either staring off at nothing or at the canvas bag.
Kajal thought of the cracks in the walls of the royal quarters. The way they’d spread and fractured with time, growing more perilous with neglect.
She scratched behind Kutaa’s ears and cleared her throat. “Once, I stole a sarbloh bangle for Lasya. She had been upset because we didn’t have any, and I hated her being upset. When I found a vendor in a city we were passing through, I took one.”
Tav’s hand drifted to his own bangle, hidden under his sleeve—the reminder of the cosmic significance one person could have upon the world.
“I thought she’d be happy.” Kajal scoffed, the noise making Kutaa’s ears twitch. “I should have known better. The fact that I took something we didn’t need to survive made her angry. Well, mostly sad. She hardly ever got angry. Truly angry, I mean.”
“Did she make you return it?”
“Absolutely. But she was smart enough to know that if I apologized to the vendor, I’d get beaten for stealing it in the first place. So instead, she caused a distraction. She pretended to run into someone in front of the vendor’s cart and break her nose. She even had a vial of pomegranate juice to use as blood. There was a whole commotion, and the vendor got involved, which allowed me to slip the bangle back without being seen.”
The corner of Tav’s mouth quirked. “I take it you didn’t steal again after that?”
“Oh, I did.” She held in a laugh at Tav’s withering expression. “But I made a point to never let Lasya see.” Though Kajal was fairly sure her sister had known and had chosen not to say anything. “Sometime later, we were searching through piles of trash for anything useful—things we could sell, eat, repurpose—and I found a copper ring. I cleaned it up and gave it to her as an apology. It was too small to fit on any finger except her pinkie, and it stained her skin green, but she loved it.”
Tav’s gaze had softened. On his chest, the amber pendant gleamed, the lotus petal inside trapped in time like all of Kajal’s memories. Seeing his own memories stir behind his eyes, Kajal gently nudged Kutaa, who went to settle beside Tav instead. Tav wrapped his arms around the dog and leaned his weight against him.
“It must have been a difficult life,” Tav said at last.
“That coming from someone who grew up in a literal palace.” He side-eyed her, and she grinned. “We had each other. That’s all we really needed.”
He nodded, and his gaze strayed toward the canvas bag again.
“We’ll find the rest of him,” Kajal assured him.
Kajal wanted Lasya back, needed her back, and Tav deserved the same reunion with his brother. The world needed the asura and deva.
Tav hid part of his face in Kutaa’s fur. Either he didn’t believe her, or his hope was so riotous he was trying to keep it at bay.
Kajal understood the feeling.
* * *
By the time they reached the university, night had fallen. The sandstone fortress was dark atop its hill, its windows like eyes watching the field for their return.
Dread had been solidifying inside Kajal since leaving the Harama Plain. It had built up deposits in her veins, in the base of her lungs, pieces breaking off and dissolving in her bloodstream.
“What’s wrong?” Tav’s voice was quiet over the night’s unobtrusive sounds, from the susurrous grass to the horse’s plodding steps.
Kajal exhaled a mirthless laugh and rested her head between his shoulders. “Everything.” Soon she would reunite with her sister’s body and make good on her promise. She would also have to admit the truth to the rebels, and she had a suspicion they wouldn’t be happy to find out their precious prince’s body was in pieces.
