Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands, #1)(74)

“It means Ahmed is on the move. Only there’s no reason Ahmed ought to know what we’re doing.”

“Delila told him,” I realized aloud. She’d told me how she used to lie awake at night, trying to say out loud that Jin was alive. That he was safe. That he would be home soon. That it would only come out if it were the truth. We were in enough trouble that one of those wasn’t true. And Ahmed was coming to find us.

“We have to get out of here before Ahmed can reach us.” Jin shoved the compass into his pocket. I had a sudden surge of resentment from nowhere. That he got to keep his brother alive while I was aiming a gun at mine.

“Hala,” Shazad ordered. “Now.”

“Oh, it’s that easy, is it?” Hala said sarcastically. But she sucked in a breath all the same and then twisted three dozen minds to see the same thing.

We shared the illusion with all of Naguib’s men that the gates of the city were swinging open, letting out a dozen men in Gallan uniforms. All I could see was the tops of their uniform caps as I craned over the edge of the canyon and watched them ride toward Naguib’s army, their horses kicking up sand.

They weren’t real. But they were enough to fool anyone who didn’t know. To confuse the real Gallan soldiers. Who I could now see climbing onto the city’s walls. Looking over the soldiers they thought were their allies, riding toward illusions.

Naguib leaned forward and said something to his weapon. Noorsham dismounted and started walking out to meet the Gallan soldiers. A safe enough distance that he wouldn’t burn up his own side with the enemy.

Almost there. Another step. He raised his hands. Almost. Almost.

The heat struck like a physical blow. I could feel it, even perched above the illusion. I swayed back; everyone else did, too. The first thing I saw was the sand turning black at his feet. The second thing was the illusion of the Gallan soldiers screaming. Screaming like Bahi had screamed. Screams planted in Naguib’s army’s mind by Hala. Even as she filled the air with the smell of burning.

Noorsham advanced.

A few more steps. My heart hammered.

His hands were raised, like he was blessing them.

And another step.

The heat swept across the sand and hit the walls of the city. Hit the real Gallan soldiers. Suddenly the screams turned real. The smell of burning snagged the corner of Hala’s attention. Not long, but enough. Enough for the illusion to waver.

One of the soldiers called something out, pointing straight at us, as our invisibility slipped. Guns swiveled toward us. I rolled away from the edge of the canyon a moment before the first bullet clipped the stone. I was on my feet, pistol back up.

High above, Izz screeched. The illusion vanished altogether, a second before Izz crashed down from the sky into Noorsham. The small bronze figure slammed into the ground as Izz transformed into a giant ape. I turned my head away. I didn’t want to see Izz’s fist crunch through copper and skull.

“Izz!” Hala’s cry drew my eyes back.

Noorsham was rising to his feet. Izz was still on the sand, turned back to a boy. For a second I though he was dead, and then he rolled. My own skin stung at the sight of the angry red burn mark across his neck.

Noorsham raised his hand over Izz’s head.

I shouted his name.

It was drowned out by another screech. A huge brown Roc with a blue tuft of feathers on his head crested the canyon.

Maz. And Ahmed riding on his back.

Maz dove straight for his brother. Noorsham was already raising his other hand toward him. The tips of his wings caught fire. No!

I was on my feet in a second, teetering at the edge of the drop from our mountain perch. Noorsham was in my sights now, and my finger was on the trigger.

The bullet hit him square in the breastplate. Noorsham stumbled back. His head reared up. Even this far away I could see his eyes, spots of blue behind the mask. He saw me.

He raised his hands like he was reaching out to a long-lost friend.

The blow of the heat carried me off my feet.





twenty-eight


Sand was under my back and I was staring at the sky. The same color as my eyes, as Noorsham’s eyes. He’d knocked me clean off the face of the mountain.

It was a twenty-foot drop. I ought to be dead. But I remembered sand surging up to catch me, just as I lost consciousness for a moment.

I dragged myself to my elbows, my whole body protesting. I could see Jin and Shazad craning over above me. Jin moved forward as if to jump off after me, but Ahmed pulled him away from the wall of the canyon as a bullet struck. Ahmed and Maz had landed safely. Why weren’t they running? Why weren’t they flying away? Were the twins too injured?

Another bullet hit near my elbow.

I rolled on instinct. My fingers scrambled for my own gun. I must’ve dropped it when I fell.

Naguib’s small army was moving up the mountain, toward our rabble.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight even without Demdji, but they had Noorsham. I could see him now. It would be a clear shot if I had a gun. But I didn’t.

I shifted my sore fingers. The red sheema was still tied around my right hand like a brace. I unknotted it quickly, wrapping it around my neck. I felt the sand shift around me in response to my every move. I had no idea what I was doing. I’d spent the last sixteen years as the girl with the gun, not a Demdji. I saw what Hala did, creating new worlds in people’s minds. Delila bending reality. Noorsham turning the world to fire.