Girl, Serpent, Thorn(56)
Once they had returned to the long hallway, Parvaneh led them down—the way Soraya had been planning to go before she’d become lost. But when they reached the end of the path, at the base of the mountain at last, Soraya saw that she would never have managed to make it out of the mountain alive.
At the base of the mountain was the largest cavern that Soraya had seen yet—it was larger than the palace gardens. They stayed close to the wall, still hidden under the cloak, and Soraya’s hand tightened around Parvaneh’s. Through the fabric, she saw mostly shapes and shadows, but it was enough to let her know she was looking into the hellish heart of this mountain.
There were divs lounging throughout the massive cavern, some drinking or eating, many sleeping, and others just watching. In the center of the cavern was a wide pit, and from its unknown depths, more divs climbed out at irregular intervals.
“Is this some kind of test?” Soraya asked, thinking of the training grounds.
“This is his throne room,” Parvaneh said, gesturing to the far wall of the cavern. There, a massive throne had been carved into the rock. It was empty, of course, its usual occupant currently visiting a different throne. “And that,” she said, pointing to the large pit, “is Duzakh.”
Soraya shuddered at the word. “That’s the home of the Destroyer,” she said, remembering the yatu.
“When the Destroyer releases us into the world, this is where we emerge,” Parvaneh said. “When a div dies, the Destroyer feels it, and he sends out a replacement, a druj for a druj, or a parik for a parik, and so on. That’s why the Shahmar always captures pariks but never kills them.”
Soraya’s eyes were locked onto the mouth of Duzakh as a wolfish head emerged from it. A div similar but not identical in appearance to the one who had perished in the sparring pit crawled his way out. As soon as he was fully above the surface, a wiry druj came to his side and led him away—recruiting him to the Shahmar’s cause, Soraya guessed. She thought of all the battles her brother and the shahs before him had led, all the divs they had killed, not knowing that each victory was only temporary.
“Will the same thing happen if we kill the Shahmar?” she asked. “Another div will rise to take his place?”
“Not exactly,” Parvaneh said, her voice strained. “Some of us tried to kill the Shahmar in the beginning. But something about his human origins has interfered with the usual process. When he’s struck a mortal blow, he doesn’t die—he regenerates. His scales spread out and close over any wound. I think the div in him only grows stronger with each attempt. In order to truly defeat him, we must make him human first—and to do that, we need the simorgh’s feather.”
Soraya’s hand went to her sash again, a hollow feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.
18
From Azad’s throne room, Parvaneh led her back into the tunnels. She mentioned something about a secret escape route known only to pariks, but Soraya only half listened. She was too busy arguing with herself.
Tell her about the feather, one part of her was saying. Tell her now.
If you tell her now, she’ll never help you, the other insisted. She’ll leave you here in the tunnels to be torn apart.
They stopped in front of a blank wall, Parvaneh looking around before she dug her fingers into a crease and pulled open a heavy slab of rock. She removed the cloak from around their shoulders, and both of them took a breath. “Watch your head,” Parvaneh warned, and they ducked into a narrow passage. Once they were inside, Parvaneh pulled the hidden door back in place, leaving them in total darkness.
Soraya tried to straighten up, but her head met the rock above with a dull thud. This passage was clearly smaller than any of the others; she felt more like she was inside the passages of Golvahar than the finely carved halls of Azad’s mountain palace. But the darkness of Golvahar’s passages was far more familiar to her, and she tried to find the wall with her hand to give her something solid in the nebulous dark.
Something brushed her hair, and she let out a small yelp.
“It’s me,” Parvaneh said in a hushed voice. Parvaneh’s hand found Soraya’s, and Soraya gratefully latched on to it. “We’re in a part of Arzur that only pariks know about,” Parvaneh explained. “Keep your head down and don’t let go of my hand.”
They continued on, and when the ground beneath them started to incline upward, Soraya hoped they were near the end. The air here was thin and stale, and not being able to see made her feel untethered, with Parvaneh’s hand as her only anchor.
Finally, Parvaneh told her to wait as she took back her hand. Soraya heard the sound of rock scraping against rock, and shortly afterward, a stream of air and moonlight bathed her face, as pure and refreshing as any river.
Parvaneh emerged first, and Soraya followed. Outside the mountain at last, Soraya stood with her head back and filled her lungs with the night sky. And then she looked around her and was convinced she had stepped into a different world.
“Where are we?” Soraya asked with a mixture of alarm and awe.
“The forest, of course,” Parvaneh said flatly.
But Soraya had never seen forestland like this before. She had never been inside a forest at all. From the roof of Golvahar, she could see the sparse forestland at the south of the mountain—where her mother had first encountered a div. But the land there was dry, with clumps of trees scattered across the landscape, more brown than green. That was not the forest Soraya was standing in now.