The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,150
my crown, my red robes—that same crimson as North’s sash, tossed to the ground before me when Elkisa brought me news of his death.
Inshara has taken everything from me. My crown. My best friend. The boy I gave my heart to. My father, my people, my home, my life’s purpose. And finally, the only other alive in the world who could possibly understand me.
The mist is gathering around me once more, having seen to it that the sky-steel river would not harm me again. I can feel it, roiling, waiting. I can see it, flickers of violent green and purple in the corners of my vision. It tastes coppery and strange on my tongue—it tastes like blood.
It bends to my will, this mist. I am the only person in this world who can feel its caress without being twisted beyond recognition.
Inshara has no such protection.
And I will make her pay.
THIRTY-FOUR
NORTH
I fight my way up the steps, dodging the fleeing guards and priests and Graycloaks trying to get away. I nearly stumble over something soft, then halt as a hand shoots out and grabs at my arm.
“Stop!” Techeki holds fast, my momentum whirling me around and toppling me down beside him. “They’ll kill you!”
Wrenching my gaze away from Jezara’s body next to him—Oh, skies, what did I stumble over?—I turn toward the terrace.
I freeze.
Mist screams through the air, singing like the blade of a sword. Inshara’s backed against the wall of the upper terrace, summoning meager flickers of magic that do little to halt the onslaught of blows coming for her.
And Nimh …
Nimh is fury. The very air around her bends, as if the aura of mist and rage she’s wrapped around herself is so dense not even light can pass through unaffected. She’s advancing upon Inshara the way she advanced upon the city. Only this time her eyes are clear—and she’s terrifying.
The mist comes faster and faster, the wind ripping at my clothes and roaring like a train passing inches away. A boulder the size of my body heaves itself up, tearing its way out of the paved terrace to smash into a hundred razor-sharp fragments that join the whirling storm around her.
I start to lurch to my feet only to find Techeki still holding me back.
“Are you mad?” he shouts, forced to put his head close to mine to be heard. “You’ll be killed before you’ve even reached them.”
“She’ll destroy the temple!” I scream back, shredding my throat. “She’ll destroy everything she has left. I can’t let her become this thing!”
“She thinks you’re dead, boy,” Techeki replies, voice cracking with the effort of shouting over the din. “That’s why—after Daoman, Jezara, the temple … I heard her, cloudlander. I heard her say your name.”
I spare a glance for Techeki, shock coursing through me. She hasn’t seen me—she doesn’t know I’m alive.
I can stop this.
A scream from the terrace jerks my attention back. Inshara’s pressed up against the stone now, and the mist is gathering around Nimh so densely she’s almost wearing it like a second skin. It reaches out, stretching like another set of arms, reaching for Inshara.
“Wait—Nimh! WAIT!” The wind tears my voice away.
Before I can stop it, the mist grabs Inshara and pulls her in, her scream cut short. Both she and Nimh vanish inside the deadly whirling mass. But where I’d half expected the violent torrent to halt, Nimh’s goal achieved—for surely Inshara could not survive so much mist—the storm rages on.
The force of the storm rips more stones from the terrace, one flying so close to us that Techeki’s forced to drop to the ground, covering his head with both hands. I manage a single glance back over my shoulder, the ruined path of destruction that Nimh left gaping like a scar across the city.
No. I will not let her do this—for their sake, for hers.
I heave a couple of breaths to ready myself, brace my feet against the top of the stairs—and then break into a sprint.
What will the mist feel like?
Will I have enough time to stop her, to reach her, before I’m dead? Before I’m twisted? Before I’m nothing more than a ghost?
My family’s faces flash before my eyes. I’ll never see them again.
Miri and Saelis—I’ll never hear my friends’ laughter.
Nimh.
The storm hits like a wall, stones battering my body, crashing against me, slicing my skin. One tears open a gash across my face—I can feel the skin peel back with sickening certainty.