The Mosquito and the Lion

thirteen

Arjun's sword lay at Alia's hip, slapping her thigh with each careful tread through the dense woods. Beads of sweat spilled down her back in lazy rivers — her blouse drenched. Her shoulder muscles were stiff and ached, and Nandini's bandaging meant her mobility was limited. Alia's breathing came out in dry rasps only hours into their journey.

Yet she refused to stop.

She trudged along, desperate to put as much space between her and the Crown Prince. Everything made sense now. Yadav had sent the bandits. Yadav wanted her dead and the connection to the Gods eliminated. With her head on a spike, they would have free reign to trample over Maurya.

A new vigor rushed through her blood. She had always been fighting for her people. But now she was protecting them, too.

Their spat with Arjun — as well as Nandini's careful healing of her wound — had taken up valuable time. And the noble woman was slowing them down, though Alia had managed to bite her tongue. Yelling at the woman would not speed her up, but Alia's patience was slipping away like a kite caught in a stiff breeze. They would not reach the entrance to the caves until morning, which meant they would have to spend a night in the forest.

The very idea made her skin crawl. Though the labyrinth had its own horrors, the creatures in these woods, particularly the closer you got to the caves, were the stuff of myth and legend. Even as the sun shone bright in the sky, its rays leathering the skin of her back, she could hear strange animals. Occasional loud bangs ripped through the air, sending jolts down her spine.

But the voices were worse.

The birds in the forest were terrifying, like they had been plucked from children's nightmares. Their feathers were darker than the night sky, and Alia's fingers trembled at the thought of listening to their haunting songs when she could not see them.

For the birds carried the warnings of ghosts.

"Oh, please listen to our tale of woe,

Look at the wanderers, how they go,

So sure in step, but one move faux,

And the Reaper's face soon they'll know."

The demon-birds sang their cruel tune like it was a jig, tittering amongst themselves when they finished. Their batting wings mimicked applause.

"I wish they'd stop," Nandini cried, clasping her hands over her ears.

The song — and the birds — was relentless, dogging their every step. A part of Alia wanted to drive her new toy into their hearts and eat them for dinner, but she did not want to test these monsters. They would peck out her eyes. She was sure of it.

They continued their methodical march through the jungle. Alia had long ago given up on smacking the mosquitoes that picked at her skin, and red bumps lined her arms. She desperately wanted a sip of water, but Vikram guarded their canteens like they were Yadavan prisoners.

Nandini had plotted out a new route following their encounter with Arjun. As she wrapped her bleeding neck with gauze, the scholar had said, "If they have their own academic — and I'm sure they do — they'll expect us to follow the creek. It's the safest, surest route, but there are other paths to the caves."

Neither Vikram nor Alia had argued with the noblewoman, but as they continued their ascent, her mouth tasting like burnt firewood, she wished they had just killed Arjun and followed their original path.

You don't mean that.

Maybe she did. Alia knew far too little about this adventure, but one thing was certain. The caves held enough dangers. They didn't need a murderous gang of Yadavans chasing after them.