Gifting Fire by Alina Boyden (read my book .TXT) 📕

pieces of furniture or bundles of fine cloth. Horses pranced alongside them, as the Bikampuri soldiers Arjun had sent with the caravan struggled to keep their mounts under control. Their heads were twisted in the direction of the fortress’s parapets, where a haze of white smoke hung over the heads of the Nizami soldiers who were rushing to reload their toradars.

“Arjun, get your men together and join me on the parapets!” I shouted to be heard above the clatter of horseshoes against the courtyard’s paving stones. If it was a rebel attack, we’d need all the muskets we could get.

“Right,” he agreed, rushing off to follow my orders without a second’s hesitation. So many other men would have had their pride piqued from being bossed around by a hijra, but Arjun was different. While he dealt with the men of Bikampur, I raced toward the gatehouse that protected the fort’s main entrance.

A sound that was so deep and so loud that it struck me like a physical force roared out from the gatehouse as a cannon belched fire and smoke. What were we dealing with if we were having to shoot our cannons at it? A whole army? My heart raced as I took the stairs to the top of the gatehouse two at a time to find out what in the world was happening.

“Hold that volley until they show themselves again!” Sikander was shouting, his form partly obscured by the white fog of gun smoke hanging thick in the air.

I rushed to his side, near the edge of the battlements, where the wind was blowing the smoke clear, giving me a view of the dirt road that led back to the city far below us. The whole hillside seemed clear of any enemy soldiers, or any people at all for that matter. I saw nothing but green shrubs and yellow sandstone boulders. Whatever was attacking us, it definitely wasn’t an army.

“What are the men shooting at?” I demanded.

“Zindhi soldiers, your highness,” he replied, and he pointed across the river, where a whole army had appeared on the plain seemingly out of nowhere. There were thousands of them, all soldiers mounted on horseback, ready for battle. More had already crossed the river on boats, and were moving through the town.

A guard shouted, “Your highness, zahhaks!” and my mouth went dry. Sixteen thunder zahhaks were flying straight at the palace, and I knew they weren’t my father’s.

CHAPTER 5

We meet them in the air!” I exclaimed, racing for the stables with Arjun and Sikander hot on my heels. I got Sultana saddled in record time, fear surging through me as I feared we’d never get up in time to save ourselves. I strapped myself into the saddle, lowered my goggles over my eyes, snapped the reins, and she took off at a run for the cliff at the garden’s far end. I was followed closely by Arjun, Arvind, and Sikander on their own animals. That gave us six if I counted my patrol circling the city. We’d still be outnumbered, and our adversaries would have the altitude advantage, but it was all we could do.

Sultana leapt into the air, and I urged her into a tight, climbing turn, her wings beating for all they were worth. Sikander kept pace with me, but the fire zahhaks were slower, and Arjun and Arvind couldn’t keep up. But we all climbed as quickly as we could toward our thunder zahhaks, who had spotted the danger and were maneuvering against their sixteen adversaries.

We weren’t going to be able to reach our enemies’ altitude before they passed overhead. I bit my lip. That wasn’t good. They could just roll over on top of us, having the advantage of speed and maneuverability. They’d be able to pound us with their breath weapons, and it would be hard for us to muster any reply. It was only the two thunder zahhaks I’d kept in the air that had any chance at all of saving us. If they could break up the enemy formation, then we might be able to make a fight of it.

“What the devil are those things?” Arjun demanded, his voice loud enough to carry across the dozen or so yards between us.

I squinted to get a better look at our opponents, and I immediately felt my stomach twist. For a long moment, I was convinced that we were facing sixteen thunder zahhaks. They were the right size to be thunder zahhaks; their wings were swept back and pointed, their tails long and straight. But as I drew nearer, I saw the little details that I’d missed before. Their scales were all wrong for thunder zahhaks—black on their heads and necks, white on their bellies. Their wings had turquoise underparts rather than gold, and upper feathers that were indigo, black, and white in a blocky pattern. Their tails were colored the same way, and as they wheeled above us, I saw that they were forked like a kite’s. Like thunder zahhaks, they had snouts rather than beaks, but theirs were longer and skinnier.

Even though I’d never seen them before in my life, there was something oddly familiar about them. It took me a moment to recall the strange animals I’d seen inlaid in my white marble throne back in the palace.

“River zahhaks!” I exclaimed. “They don’t have breath weapons! Don’t attack them!”

“Don’t attack?” Sikander asked, twisting his head over his shoulder to show me how insane he thought that order was.

I pulled up alongside him. “They can’t hurt us. They can’t have come to fight us; it must be a parley.”

He shrugged, seeing the logic in that. We continued climbing, and the river zahhaks did a funny thing. They started a spiraling dive. They were magnificent fliers. God, with those forked tails, they could change direction in a heartbeat, and their wings were longer and pointier than an acid zahhak’s, but broader and