The City of Brass (The Daevabad Trilogy #1) - S. A. Chakraborty Page 0,66

foot, but the daeva was nowhere to be seen.

She searched the sky, expecting him to reappear, to flit into existence like the wine he conjured up. This was Dara, the magical being who traveled by sandstorms and saved her from a pack of ghouls. He had to have a plan; he couldn’t just vanish down the gullet of some bloodthirsty bird.

But he didn’t reappear.

Tears pricked her eyes, her mind knowing what her heart denied. Her horse slowed, balking at her kicks. It clearly had more sense than she did; the only thing they could offer the rukh was dessert.

She could see the crimson bird silhouetted against the mountains; it hadn’t gotten very far but suddenly shot up in the sky, frantically flapping its wings. As she watched, it started to fall and then momentarily righted itself, letting out a screech that sounded more frightened than triumphant. Then it fell again, tumbling through the air and crashing to the frozen ground.

The force of the distant impact shuddered through her horse. Nahri wanted to scream. Nothing could survive a fall like that.

She didn’t let her horse slow until they reached the shallow crater the rukh’s body had smashed into the ground. She tried to steel herself but had to look away from Dara’s dead horse. Her own animal startled and fussed. Nahri fought for control as she approached the rukh’s massive body. It towered over them, one enormous wing crumpled under its dead weight. Its glittering feathers were twice her height.

She began to circle the bird, but the daeva was nowhere to be seen. Nahri choked back a sob. Had it really eaten him? That might have been faster than crashing to the ground, but—

A cold, sharp feeling cut through her and she reeled, overcome with emotion. She caught sight of the creature’s bent head, black blood pouring from its mouth. The sight of it filled her with rage, displacing her grief and despair. She grabbed her dagger, overcome by the irrational need to tear at its eyes and rip out its throat.

Its neck twitched.

Nahri jumped, and her horse backed up. She tightened her grip on the reins, ready to flee, and then the neck twitched again . . . no, it bulged, like something was inside.

She’d already slipped off her horse when a dark blade finally emerged from inside the rukh’s neck, laboriously cutting a long vertical gash before being dropped to the ground. The daeva followed, washed out in a wave of black blood. He collapsed to his knees.

“Dara!” Nahri ran and kneeled at his side, throwing her arms around him before her mind caught up with her actions. The rukh’s hot blood soaked through her clothes.

“I . . .” He spat a gob of black blood onto the ground before shaking free of her grasp and climbing laboriously to his feet. He wiped the blood from his eyes, his hands trembling. “Fire,” he rasped. “I need a fire.”

Nahri looked around, but the ground was covered in wet snow, and there were no branches in sight. “What can I do?” she cried as the daeva gasped for air. He collapsed to the ground again. “Dara!”

She reached for him. “No,” he protested. “Don’t touch me . . .” He dug his fingers into the ground, sending up sparks that were quickly extinguished by the icy dirt. A terrible sucking sound came from his mouth.

She crept closer despite his warning, aching to do something as a deep shudder ran through his body. “Let me heal you.”

He slapped her hand away. “No. The ifrit—”

“There are no damned ifrit here!”

Beads of ash rolled down his face. Before she could reach for him again, he suddenly cried out.

It was as if his very body momentarily turned to smoke. His eyes grew dim, and as they both watched, his hands briefly translucent. And though Nahri knew nothing about how daeva bodies worked, she could tell from the panic in his face that this was not normal.

“Creator, no,” he whispered, staring in horror at his hands. “Not now . . .” He glanced up at Nahri, a mixture of fear and sadness in his expression. “Oh, little thief, I’m so sorry.”

He had no sooner apologized than his entire body shimmered like steam, and he fell against the ground.

“Dara!” Nahri knelt at his side and checked him over, her instincts kicking in. She could see nothing but slick black blood, whether the daeva’s or the rukh’s, she had no idea. “Dara, talk to me!” she begged. “Tell me