Jade Fire Gold(6)

“I don’t know anything about magic, but I know the granddaughter I raised. You won’t harm anyone.” Ama straightens her back with purpose, a look on her face that can only be gained from the pain of experience. “I have lived long enough to remember a time when our world was green—greener than what you may remember. There was life, not this vast nothingness you see around us now. Why would the desert still spread if those false priests keep killing the ones they call the Tiensai?”

Calling the Diyeh false priests is an invitation for trouble. But Ama soldiers on without a care. There’s a spark in her eyes as she speaks, as if she has wanted to say all of this to me for a long time.

“There was a time when things were different. We don’t speak of him now because it is forbidden. But the emperor before Gao Long didn’t believe that the Tiensai were monsters or demons. He was a good man. May the Heavens bless his soul.”

I’ve heard of the peacefulness of Ren Long’s reign, even though I remember little of it. He died when I was six years old, before Ama adopted me.

She tries to speak again but a coughing fit overwhelms her. It’s clear she needs her medicine. The healer’s suggestion darts across my mind and I start to feel sick again.

I fetch a cup of water. “Rest, Ama. We can talk tomorrow.”

Ama goes to bed, and after she falls asleep, I sit in the dark, remembering the dirty little thing I was, wandering around in Shahmo all those years ago. How my feet had ached, how tightly I clutched this ring in my hand. How everyone ignored me and walked on. Until a midwife chanced upon me on her way back to her village. The snowflake in my palm was a sign that I had magic. Anyone else would have left me alone or hauled me to the Diyeh priests for a reward.

But not her.

I remember the warm crinkle of the woman’s eyes as she bent over and asked for my name.

Ahn, I said.

What a pretty name, she replied.

Ama’s heart is big, though her money purse is not. Her children and grandchildren died from a devastating plague that spread across nations years before, and she raised me like her own granddaughter. She is all the family I have now. And selling this ring will save her life.

But it also means I will lose the only connection I have with my birth parents.

A warm prickle of tears traces the edges of my eyes. I blink them back fiercely. Li Guo might know of my desire to leave Shahmo, but he will never understand what I owe Ama. I can’t leave her, and I won’t watch her suffer. I run my thumb over the ring again before stuffing it into the pouch and under my pillow, burying the emotions rising in my chest.

The desert is no place for sentiment. Here, you learn not to shed tears.





2


Altan


“Run, Altan!”

Mother’s face contorts with effort, one eye swelling shut from where the man hit her. Blood drips from her nose.

I see panic on her face. Terror. But I can’t move.

The man pulls her head back by her hair, slowly slicing her cheek open with a knife. She shrieks as red rivulets stream down her face.

He looks at me. He wants me to watch. His lips curl into a twisted smile, and something savage lurks in his eyes.

His face. There is something wrong with it.

It is melting.

The face of a demon.

I know the demon-man is coming for me next. For my sister. I want to run, but my feet are lead.

The demon-man knees Mother so hard in the stomach that she buckles to the ground. He kicks her as she trembles. The soldiers join in with their metal-toed boots, again and again, laughing as she tries to crawl away.

One, two, three . . . each kick is a number involuntarily counted in my mind.

The demon-man is not a soldier. He is clad in a shroud of black smoke and red fury. He reaches out a hand, cajoling like a father would. But he is not my father. His cruel smile widens and his palm flares open.

A flame extends from his hand. Curves, like a snake dancing to a vicious tune. The serpent bares its fangs and a tongue of fire and smoke slithers out.

Again, I want to run. But fear has wrapped its tendrils around my legs and rooted me to the ground. It is only when my sister lets out an inhuman howl that I find myself.

Something pulls from within me, vibrating.

Wind rushes from all sides, knocking the soldiers off their feet. Sand shoots up everywhere, guided by an unknown force, blinding the men.

I see Mother’s one open eye amidst the fog and flurry of sand. I hear her voice in my head.

Run, Altan.

I grab my sister’s hand, pulling her along, running mindlessly into the abyss of hurtling debris and shadow. Her hand slips but I hang on.

There’s too much sand. It scratches my face. Gets into my eyes, my nose.

Can’t breathe.

A tug.

My sister pulls me back.

No—keep running, I try to yell. But sand fills my mouth, and nothing comes out.

Another finger slips. I must not let go.

I must not.

A yank.

Our fingers tear apart, and she is gone.

I bolt awake, drenched in sweat, shaking as a silent scream dies in my throat.

For a moment, I forget where I am. Who I am.

Then it all comes charging back.

I’m no longer eight years old, running away from the soldiers, fleeing from the man with the melting face and terrifying raven eyes. I’m no longer dragging my sister along as she kicks and screams, wanting to go back for our mother. I’m no longer blinded by the sand that envelops us. Crushes us.