The Library of Fates(52)

I glanced in the direction of the storm. It was getting closer. My stomach twisted into a knot. I imagined sand in my eyes, in my mouth, my ears. I imagined being buried alive. I had never considered that I would die this way, but now it was looking like a distinct possibility.

I turned to look at Alexi, who was watching in horror as all of his men took off on their horses, leaving him alone in the sand.

“Think they’ll make it home alive?” I asked.

Thala looked at me. “That I can’t see,” she said. “Like I told you before, without chamak I’m not able to see things as sharply. I can still make out some things, but not others.” She smiled. “But this moment, right now, what they’re feeling? It’s the greatest feeling of their lives.”

I could barely make out her words over the howl of the wind now.

Alexi approached us, unshackling us quietly, without ceremony, without words. He did it because he knew he had no choice. He looked at me with fear in his eyes before he turned and mounted his horse, bolting away from the storm.

I watched him ride away.

“Coward,” I said over the howling wind.

“But look what he left behind in his panic,” Thala said.

I followed her eyes to a spot in the sand where my satchel sat waiting for me. I grabbed it, eagerly opening it. The map, the dagger, it was all still there. I held the satchel tightly to my chest as I looked back up.

It was closer now, the storm. I could see it coming for us, like a bulwark of dust. It looked like a solid mass.

“So . . . what now?” I yelled.

“I don’t know what happens now,” Thala said.

I reached for Thala’s hand and closed my eyes. We stood there, the wind screaming into our ears, cold sand whipping our faces. I braced myself for whatever was to come. I opened my eyes to see objects flying through the air: palm leafs and entire tree stumps, pieces of fabric, flags, all violently cycling around us. Soon that would be us, I imagined, the storm chewing us up and spitting us out. My grip tightened around Thala’s hand, and my stomach plummeted.

Please, I pleaded with whatever force might listen. Please don’t harm us. Please deliver us to safety. I realized I was speaking with the storm itself. Please, I asked again. If you can hear me, please know that all I would like is for my friend and me to make it to the edge of the desert, to the Janaka Caves, unharmed. We want to live. You owe us nothing. But I ask you, humbly, to deliver us to safety.

I no longer have a father. I don’t know my mother. Everything I’ve ever had is lost, gone. I am no longer a princess.

I am nothing, nobody.

I come to you with nothing but a plea. Please help us.

The wind continued to howl, louder and louder, whipping my hair across my face, the taste of sand in my mouth. And then a voice emerged from the roar of the wind.

We have heard what you have to say. We will grant you our aid, I heard. My eyes snapped open.

I gazed up at the stars, and as I did, we were lifted into the heavens by a bump of air, and we were flying higher than the storm, looking down into a funnel of sand, shifting, twisting, like those palm leaves. I tensed for a moment before I closed my eyes and gave in to it.

Before I had a chance to make sense of those words, we were within it, engulfed. We found ourselves floating in the eye of the storm, watching as sand and debris spun around us.

I was surprised at how quiet and still it was. Peaceful, almost.

“It’s already happening,” Thala said, her eyes full of amazement. “You’re becoming her. Maya.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to respond. I had always thought of storms as violent, but this was majestic, a force of nature that commanded respect, not fear. I would remember it always. A storm protecting us from itself.

Finally, I spoke. “I don’t even understand what that really means,” I said to her.

“Just keep watching and listening and asking. You’ll find out,” Thala replied.

¤

I don’t know how long we were inside the storm. Maybe it was a few hours, maybe it was days, or weeks.

All at once, we landed gently on our feet.

It was almost dawn, and the sky emerged a clear, pale pink where the storm had been. It was as though the winds had scrubbed the desert clean, or rearranged it to their liking. We stood quietly, watching the cyclone as it went on its way. I was stunned at how I felt: Sad to see it go, as though it was yet another family member I was saying goodbye to. Amazed at what we had just witnessed. It was majestic, but it was also whimsical, lovely. I had seen another side of something that I had previously considered only dangerous and destructive. How limited my perception had been before this moment.

Thala’s laughter snapped me out of my thoughts. “Look where we are!” she said. “It deposited us at the edge of the desert. A day’s walk from the Janaka Caves. It’s as though it knew.”

I felt a sense of amazement at her words.

“I’ve heard that the Diviners knew how to do that—how to speak to the sand, call to the wind, ask for their aid. And they offered it to us. To you.”

I couldn’t help but think about the voice I had heard when we were in the eye of the storm.

Thala smiled a rare smile. “We’re going to make it to the caves,” she said. “I knew it.”

We began to hike up the trail.

“Did you hear that voice?” I asked Thala.