Chapter 50 Aiz
Aiz
Aiz left the arch, the Empress, and the battle behind.
She flew herself to a Sail she’d had the good sense to hide about a mile away from the encampment.
Once she took it to air, she flew as if she was the wind itself.
Even without the dozen children whose spirits she’d taken, she was certain she would have been able to maneuver the Sail easily.
She was buoyed by the truth that lived in her, the knowledge that all that she’d suffered was finally being rewarded.
The Loha was nearly in her grasp. Her people were almost free. Because of her. Because she had stayed the course. Aiz had believed, enough to convince Ruh’s spirit to guide her.
Her tears froze on her face as she flew south, pushing the Sail far beyond its limits, but not caring, for she had waited long enough. Nothing so mundane as the physical vulnerability of this canvas would stop her now.
The moon was thin and all the canyons and hoodoos south of the badlands were shrouded in utter darkness. But Ruh guided Aiz true and within an hour, she was spiraling her Sail down before a high, familiar pinnacle.
Careful, Ruh said. There are others there, Aiz. You aren’t alone.
Aiz wanted to bull forward, but her magic dwindled. She had used too much to get here, and there were no sources for her out here in the desert.
Close now, Aiz, he urged her on. So close.
She flew low and landed a half mile from the cavern. She could feel it, pulsing nearby, like a twitch in her brain she couldn’t stop.
As she traversed the desert in the deep of night one more time, her neck prickled. She felt eyes on her and remembered an evening out in the desert when Ruh had been telling her stories. She’d known then that someone was watching them. But Ruh had soothed her.
It’s only the jinn, he’d said then. They watch me, sometimes.
“Ruh,” she whispered, “What’s out there?”
Nothing to worry you, Aiz. You are stronger than all of them. Hurry now. You must surprise the Jaduna in the cave. She doesn’t know you’re coming.
The shift in his tone was strange, and a long-sleeping part of her opened one eye, uneasy. But it was her doubt, an ever-present enemy. Ruh would not let her fail now. She would not let herself fail.
The spire that marked the cave towered over her, and she slowed her pace. She remembered the gateways, the long winding path. She remembered her old horse Tregan beneath her and Ruh before her.
Strength, Aiz, Ruh said. Walk on.
She hurried through the first gateway and down a rocky path that took her into a tunnel. There, she slowed, for she heard voices ahead. Shouting.
“Ruh?” she whispered. “Who—who is in there?”
Patience, Aiz, Ruh said. Patience and you will see. And then it will be time, finally, for you to save your people.