“This way.” I hurtle over a fallen log and discover another footmark every few strides.
Rain begins to patter, dampening the fallen leaves to sticky mush and filling Yatin’s tracks with puddles. The drizzle drenches my turban but does not deter the mob or hamper their determination. Torchlights press farther into the forest as the hunt goes on.
A shout comes from directly ahead. “A rebel!”
My insides vault up my throat. Rohan and I set into a run, along with dozens of other men. We come to a halt at the gathering of lights.
A man dressed in all black grasps an imperial soldier by the neck with both hands. Droplets of blood cry from the soldier’s eyes and seep out of every pore of his exposed skin.
A soldier across the circle releases a bolt from his crossbow, striking the man in black in the spine. He arches in agony and collapses. The imperial soldier he strangled and bled falls with him, both landing in a heap. Another man checks them over.
The rebel and his assailant are dead.
The horde clambers over one another to claim the prize. Ultimately, the party with the soldier who shot the crossbow hoists the rebel and carries him back to camp. The rest of the hunters trickle after them, grumbling over the lost opportunity for coin. Bloodstains cover the fallen soldier’s body. The rain dilutes the scarlet drops to streams of pink running across his skin.
“What did the rebel do to him?” I ask.
Rohan curls into himself, a statue of misery. “Aquifiers can leech the water out of someone’s body little by little. Leeching is wrong. Bhutas should use their powers for good or we’re no better than demons.”
Opal once told me the same about winnowing when she explained a Galer can siphon air from another’s lungs, asphyxiating them to death. Rohan cries silent tears, but I doubt they are for the rebel or the soldier. He must be thinking of the Galer the demon rajah executed—and his sister.
I pat his thin back. “Tonight has been difficult, but I need you to stay tough.”
Rohan wipes his nose and nods glumly. The soldiers’ torches drift farther away, leaving us suspiciously alone. I regret not pausing to bury or pray over the fallen soldier, but time is short.
“We need to return to camp to keep up appearances,” I say. “After everyone turns in for the night, we’ll sneak away and search for Natesa and Yatin.”
Rohan falls in line with me, my feet dragging more with every stride. Two days of little food and even less rest hit me at once. It is all I can do not to keel over.
Halfway to camp, Rohan halts, and a sudden wind extinguishes our torch. The dark wicks away my exhaustion. I back up against a tree, my khanda ready.
Something hefty drops from above. Peering into the dimness, I distinguish Yatin’s shape. A smaller shadow also leaps down.
“Almighty Anu,” I whisper. “You could’ve warned me, Rohan.” He heard our friends and blew out the torch to mask their presence.
“Where’s the excitement in that?” Natesa thumps me on the chest.
Although meant as a playful jibe, the cuff hurts my tired body. “I found your tracks, Yatin.”