Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands, #1)(47)

It was a hell of a lot harder than it looked getting down into the canyon than it had looked from the top. And it’d looked impossible from there. Jin could still walk, but he leaned more heavily on me with every step.

I had a mean slice on my arm from skidding on some loose rocks near the top of the valley. One cracked rib from where I’d slammed into a rock nearer the bottom. There were a few others in between that I hadn’t had time to worry about yet. The rest of my body was just a dull ache under Jin’s weight.

At least there was water at the bottom.

The Dev’s Valley ran like a wound deep into the skin of the desert, a shallow river like an exposed vein at the bottom. I sat Jin down as I plunged my hands into the water and scrubbed blood before sticking my face in, too, and gulping as fast as I could.

I gathered a handful of water. “Jin.” His head was tipped back, eyes squeezed shut against something he didn’t want to see, except it was inside his head. “Jin.” I pressed the water to his mouth and forced him to drink.

I sat back with my legs in the water and pulled out the compass. I’d managed not to smash it, at least. It pointed straight into the dusty canyon maze, but it didn’t say how far I had to go, and Jin wasn’t in any kind of state to tell me. Only one way to find out.

I was just lugging Jin back to his feet when I heard it, echoing through the canyon walls: the sound of hoofbeats on stone. Someone was coming out of the canyon. I hesitated for only a second before heading for cover. We moved painfully slowly, Jin’s weight pressing down on my spine. I half led, half dragged him into the dusty maze. I could hear the hoofbeats getting louder with every step. We were going too slowly. We needed to get to cover before whoever it was spotted us. We reached the mouth of one of the paths into the canyon just as a soldier in Gallan blue emerged from another.

My whole body rebelled against the sight of him as I remembered the Gallan in Fahali. The general with his gun to the girl’s head. But there was nothing I could do now except watch with bated breath from our place hidden in the shadows of the canyon, while the soldier dismounted, dropping to his knees to drink.

“Amani—” Jin had finally opened his eyes. They were clear for a moment. “He can’t find us, if they do—”

I clapped my hand over his mouth as the soldier raised his head, looking in our direction. “He won’t find us,” I promised, quietly as I could.

We waited in silence while the soldier finished at the river before he mounted again. From the top of his horse, he pulled out something hanging around his neck that shined silver and pressed one end of it to his mouth. A sharp whistle blast echoed off the canyon walls. He waited while it went silent. And then another one answered. When that went silent, a third answered.

A search party. For us, or for something else. “They’re not going to find us,” I repeated, so quiet I wasn’t sure if it was for Jin or if it was a prayer. “They won’t find us.”

? ? ?

WE’D BEEN WALKING a few hours when I needed to rest. I leaned against the rock face, letting Jin slide to the ground, trying to catch my breath. We’d had to double back twice already when the path dead ended. I clutched the compass to my chest. I was still following the needle, but I had to get my head to stop spinning. And every step brought more chance the next one would lead me to the Gallan soldiers.

The sun was getting low when I ran into another dead end. Except none of the other dead ends had looked like this.

The wall of the canyon was painted bright—almost violent—colors, climbing one on top of another, from the dusty ground all the way up to where I couldn’t see anymore: A girl with yellow hair turning into an animal. An immense red Djinni raging against roiling water. A blue-skinned man surrounded by demons. A battle that might be able to split the earth open right where we stood and leave a mark the size of this valley. And wedged between a dancing girl with snakes for hair and a demon brandishing a severed head was a painted door. I checked the compass; sure enough, it pointed stright ahead.

I was raised on stories of Djinn and their world, of secret palaces in the clouds, homes that could be summoned from the sand. Doors to their kingdoms that could only be opened by whispering a secret word into the lock.

I traced the line of the door with my finger. Solid stone by the looks of it. Solid stone until the right password was whispered to it. Like in the stories.

Or else I was a deluded girl with a bad habit of putting too much stock in the stories my mother told me.

“Jin.” I shook his shoulders. My voice was scratchy with thirst. “Jin, wake up. I need you to wake up. I need the password.”

“Lost?” I jumped at the voice. The Gallan soldier, the one we’d seen, was standing a few feet away, leaning on the other side of the valley in the shade, looking smug.

I might’ve been afraid if I wasn’t already so desperate. “How did you find us?” My voice sounded scratchy.

“On your feet, before I have to shoot you,” he commanded, but I didn’t see a gun. And he was speaking perfect Mirajin.

Something was wrong here.

“Why don’t you come make me?” He was hovering in the shadows. Then I noticed the fresh blood smeared along his jawline. “Or are you afraid of daylight, Skinwalker?”

The change on his face was instantaneous. It became a person’s face without any humanity in it. The Skinwalker bared its sharp teeth in the soldier’s face—the face belonging to its last kill, I realized. I watched in horror as it sauntered over until it was at the very edge of the shadows cast by the canyon walls. “Well, it would have been nice to feed on you now.” Its tongue flicked out, long and black between sharp teeth. “I am starving. Even after eating that foreigner’s flesh. And you look so tasty. But I suppose I can wait a few hours.”