I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 19

***

Juba chuckles, and when I say no more, he glances down at me. “Selene?”

“Forgive me,” I say around a yawn. “For a moment, I was struck by the memory of what our lives were supposed to be like right now, and I just…”

“I understand,” Juba says. “Everything that’s happened so far feels overwhelmingly suspicious. Like if I close my eyes for too long, I’ll open them to find that the time we’ve spent together has just been some marvelous daydream.”

“I often find myself fearful that if I let my guard down, Roma will appear out of nowhere and capture—"

“That won’t happen. Even if we must lead Gustavian on a chase to the ends of the Earth, he will not capture us again.”

“Such a chase might bind us together for the rest of our lives,” I tease.

Juba’s fingers find mine with a featherlight touch. “Would it be so terrible a way to spend our lives?”

“You stand a far greater chance of survival than I do.”

“But you would miss me if we were to part.”

“I would miss you for the rest of my life. But I would miss you far more, were you to die and I be left in a world without you.”

We fall silent with that, cloaked in the weight of our admissions and the thick scent of campfire smoke. At the fire’s side, Mrunal and his companions pass jokes back and forth. Upon listening in, I realize they are laughing about the plan for Raja to marry Helios.

“Her Highness will sooner be the master of their marriage than an obedient wife,” Mrunal snickers, and passes a small, clay jug to the man on his right. “Ah, but Helios didn’t seem to mind giving her the reins on our way to Pataliputra. If anything, he looked at her as though she were the most wondrous sight in all the world.”

“Does the boy lack ambition?” a man asks from his left.

“Or manly pride?” another bellows, flinching at the jabs thrown his way.

“I think he sees her for herself,” Mrunal says, leaning back on his elbows. “Her Highness may be the most proper rajkumari in all the world when His Esteemed Majesty is around, but we all know who she really is.”

“A wild girl.”

“A devout rajkumari.”

“A widowed mother to a sickly child.”

“Helios saw it all, and accepted it without a moment’s hesitation. He really is a remarkable guy." Mrunal tips his head back and catches my gaze as I smile.

“For now, what he treasures most is their friendship,” I say. “But someday those feelings will grow to become more.”

“Knowing Her Highness, she wouldn't have it any other way.”

“You seem to genuinely care for Raja,” Juba says. “She must be an exceptional mistress to have earned such loyalty.”

“You give her too much credit,” laughs the man to Mrunal’s right. “She’s kind enough, I suppose, but nonetheless spoilt.”

“And greedy when it comes to sweets,” snickers another.

“And is always stirring up trouble. If she weren’t the only acknowledged child of us lot, His Esteemed Majesty might have had her head by now!”

“Of you lot?” Juba asks.

Mrunal sits up, twisting to hand me a second clay jug. “All of us here are Rajaputras: sons of His Esteemed Majesty and unrecognized women. We look after Her Highness not only because our Maharaja commands it, but because she’s our only sister.”

“Our reckless, stubborn brat of a sister,” the rest say, as if they’ve repeated such words a thousand times.

“You’re her brothers, yet you serve her?” I ask, confounded.

“Just as they likely would if this were Roma,” Juba says. “Are illegitimate children not treated the same in Kemet?”

“We’ve no notion of illegitimacy. So long as the father recognizes a child as his, that child will share the father’s prestige—regardless of the rank or prior recognition of the woman who birthed them.”

“How generous,” Mrunal says. “But don’t misunderstand. We’re not illegitimate, just…of lesser status. Not that it’s mattered all that much. Her Serene Majesty, Agramahisi Asandhimitra, was an exceptionally kind woman who raised us as her own. Willingly, we honor her memory by serving the child she gave her life to bear.”

I take a sip from the jug, savoring the cool water that flows onto my tongue before I say, “So long as you are happy, I’ve no right to complain. Still, it saddens me that you can’t have the kind of relationship with Raja that I do with my siblings.”

“It’s for the best,” the man beside Mrunal says, falling onto his back with arms crossed behind his neck. “If we showed any interest in power or titles, it’d put Her Highness in danger. Greedy nobles might try to bribe us into turning on her.”

“Or if something ever happens to the yuvaraja, His Esteemed Majesty will force Her Highness to try again for a son,” Mrunal says lowly. “She barely survived giving birth, once. Many would assume her unable to survive a second delivery, and begin plotting to take advantage of whichever of us they think would be the easiest to manage as a puppet-maharaja.”

“Helios will not simply accept that such threats exist within your court,” I warn.

“There’s nothing he can do about it,” Mrunal tries, but I shake my head.

“If Helios takes Dasharatha as his child, he will raise him with the mind of a Jambudvīpan and the heart of a Kemite. My brother will not stand for danger to run rampant in his home, nor accept endless threats to his son and wife.”

“Helios may give it his best shot, but change will not come easily.”

“Even so—”

‘Run,’ a soft, male voice whispers on the breeze. ‘Before it reaches you, you must flee to a place where birds nest!’

“Selene?” Juba asks, following me as I scramble to my feet. 

“Something is coming,” I say, and peer into the dark, sandy hills around us. “We must move. Now. To a place where birds fly.”

“Birds?” Mrunal asks, already on his feet. “At this time of night? They’ll all be bedded down on high trees or boulders.”

“Why birds?” Juba asks. “What’s out there that might fear such harmless creatures?”

Whispers rise behind us, and when I look at Mrunal, his face has gone pale. Hands trembling at his sides, he whirls toward his brothers. “Rouse the horses. We have to move quickly—before it arrives!”

“What is it?” Juba demands.

“That would be me,” a new male voice hisses in my ear.

I gasp, throwing myself forward at the same time Juba rips the sickle from his belt and takes aim at the frightening newcomer.

Tall—fiercely tall, with long black hair and golden skin, an unnaturally handsome man smirks down at us. From his lips the forked tongue of a serpent flicks out and back, and he watches us with bronze eyes slit by long, narrow pupils.

Heaving a curt huff, the man tips to the side and—vanishes.

“So this is the mortal who dared to defy the stars? How disappointing,” he hisses, and appears on my right.

Stretched out on his side, supported by one arm and with cheek in hand, the man laughs when I jerk backwards and fall. Clawing at the sand, desperate to rise, I pause at the feel of something smooth and cold against the fabric over my knee.

A glance back steals my breath, for I have struck not the legs I expect, but an ebony serpent’s tail thick as a tree trunk!

“What are you?” I breathe, daring to look at the man—no, the beast. “Are you a gorgon?”

His tongue flicks out and back. “I am a servant of the spirits,” he says, and slowly parts his lips to reveal two long, vicious fangs that drip with a steaming purple liquid. “You dared to oppose the great forces of this world. For that, you will pay with your—”

“Duck, Selene!” Juba shouts.

I fall to the side, crossing both arms over my head. A bright light passes over me, striking the serpent with a thunk and splash. The beast hisses, screeching out the most monstrous wail as its tail begins thrashing in great, heaving flops.

“Selene!” Juba shouts, drawing my gaze.

Bent over the tail, face red from the struggle to cling on, he reaches a hand out toward me. I take it with both of mine, tugging until I’m hauled tightly against Juba’s chest.

“Come on!” Mrunal begs, beckoning us to where he sits astride his horse. On either side, his brothers uncork jugs and launch them at the serpent, where they explode on impact.

“What are they doing?” I ask, moving with Juba when he breaks into a run.

“It’s alcohol,” he says, dropping his sickle to grasp my waist. Hefting me up, Juba’s hands are replaced by Mrunal’s arms, which sloppily drop me onto the space behind him.

“The flames won’t last long against a naga,” Mrunal says, at the same time Juba pulls himself up behind me. “Why would it attack you, Selene? Naga have always been known as benevolent servants to the spirits.”

“Don’t worry about the specifics,” Juba scoffs, and wraps an arm around my waist. “Just know that many fear Selene’s Blessing, and will stop at nothing to keep her from fulfilling the task that Isis has bestowed upon her.”

Whatever he might think of all that, Mrunal doesn’t ask any more questions. Kicking his feet, he spurs the horse into a gallop.

A roaring hiss rocks the air around us just seconds later. I glance back to watch the hair fall from the creature’s head before its ears morph into the wide hood of an iaret’s face.

Seeming uninterested in Mrunal’s brothers, the beast swings its tail in a hard arc, which extinguishes the small flames clinging to its scales. A second swing sends the lingering horses flying, and a third tosses Mrunal’s brothers into the open air.

With its path finally cleared the creature slithers after us, fast as a falling star.

“Curse it all!” Juba shouts, plucking a white ball from his belt. Handing it to me, he says, “When I say to, throw that at the naga.”

I nod, curious as to what I hold. From my memories I recall the first Juba making such balls a time or two, but I’d never asked him what they were for.

Digging into his pocket, the Juba of the present plucks out two small stones. Striking them together over the ball in my hands, he curses again when a spark sputters and dies. With his second try the spark catches, and instantly seeps down toward the center of the ball.

Heat sears my palms, and the putrid stench that begins wafting from a rising plume of brown smoke makes me more nauseous than the swaying of the horse.

“Now!” Juba commands, and I toss the ball behind us.

Twisting at the waist, I try to turn back; try to see if I’ve struck our target. But Juba stops me with a hand sealed over my nose and mouth.

“Hold your breath,” he says. “That ball will slow it down, but only for a little while. In the meantime, we have to come up with an escape plan.”

“What plan can be made?” Mrunal demands. “Naga are relentless—and there’s nowhere to hide out here!”

‘Ride toward the cliffs,’ a spirit voice—Serapis’ voice—whispers. ‘Find the water. Find me.’

“The cliffs,” I gasp, unsure where they might be. “The spirits claim that the cliffs are a safe place.”

“The same spirits that sent the naga after you?”

“Just trust her,” Juba groans. “And if you can’t, then step down and let me take the reins.”

“I swore an oath to protect Selene,” Mrunal snaps. “I will do whatever it takes to keep my word—”

“Get back here, you wretch!” the serpent roars. “Get back here!”

Ignoring the beast, Mrunal pushes onward, driving the horse as hard as he can.

Flying across the sands, kicking up a cloud of dust in our wake, we ride until a low rumble fills the air. A swift jerk of the reins brings us to a sudden stop, and Mrunal glances down on our right with a vile curse.

I look as well, both excited and devastated at the sight of a rushing river far, far below.

“Are there birds here?” Juba asks, throwing an arm up to shield us as no sooner does a rush of air send the horse skittering backwards.

“And what is this?” a deep voice bellows. “You dare trespass in my domain? How bold.”

“What now?” I whisper, and peer up at a massive, dazzling bird of sapphire blue. My gaze trails along its wide wings, and my stomach drops when I notice a tanned human face where its beak should be.

The creature scowls, its dark eyes fixed on me—only to narrow when it looks just beyond us.

Whatever the beast sees instantly changes its scowl to a disgusted sneer.

“They’re mine!” the serpent hisses.

“You’re dead,” the bird-creature replies, and swoops over us with its black claws extended.

“A naga and a byangoma,” Mrunal breathes, shaking his head. “How can we survive both of them? It’s impossible…”

“It’s not,” I say, forcing myself to look back toward the river. “Let me down, Mrunal, and I will draw them away.”

“Never,” Juba says, sliding from the saddle as soon as I do. “Selene!”

“Serapis called out to me. He told me to find water, and so I have.”

“And how can the water—don’t tell me you intend to jump down there?” Juba’s eyes go wide. “You’ll die!”

“We’ll all die if I stay here,” I argue, and look up at Mrunal. “Go. Seek your brothers and a safer place for us to reunite. Somehow, I will find you again once this danger has passed.”

“We will find them,” Juba corrects, his arms already winding around me. “Wherever you go, I will follow.”

“But—”

“Save your breath for the fall.”

Much as I’d like to argue, time is not on our side. With a deep breath, a prayer that we shall survive, and a second prayer that my siblings will live on if we don’t, I nod.

“In the event that, for whatever reason, we do not meet again, pass on a message for me, Mrunal,” I say without looking at him. “Tell the maharaja that I did as the spirits commanded, thus neither you nor your brothers are to be punished for whatever happens next.”

Mrunal begins to say something, but before he can finish, before I can second-guess myself, I follow Juba’s lead and lean to the right.

And just like that a rush of wind consumes us, as together we plummet into the abyss and river below.

***