Kunal paused, considering Alok’s words. He was right. Without General Hotha, Alok was basically the only one left at the Fort who would care if something happened to him.
“I will. I promise,” Kunal said with sincerity. The tension from Alok’s shoulders lifted, as did his expression. “Though I’m not sure why you’re not bothering Laksh as well.”
“I tried already.” A cloud passed over Alok’s face, but it shifted so quickly that Kunal blinked, thinking he had imagined it.
“Anyway.” He slapped Kunal on the back. “For a man facing almost certain death, you don’t look too worried.”
Kunal grimaced at him. “Thinking that I’m facing certain death might change that, so let’s go with a man looking to avenge his uncle’s honor.” Alok snorted. Kunal continued, hoping to get him off his back. “And a man who plans to return as your commander. Maybe then I can get a proper lock on my door and some privacy,” he muttered.
Alok looked at him with dawning comprehension. “So, that’s your play. I didn’t think you’d have something like that in you. Gods above, do you actually want to be commander? Or is this just your uncle talking?”
Kunal shrugged. “If this is to be my home for most of my life, I may as well have a role in leading it. Steering it in the right direction.” He didn’t mention that his words were ones taken almost directly from his uncle.
It was his duty to take over at the Fort, to honor their family.
Kunal had heard it so many times he could whisper it while drowning.
He knew what “steering the Fort in the right direction” meant to his uncle, but he had yet to fully determine what it meant to him. There were ideas, small hopes and inklings of changes that he believed he could make, but Kunal was hoping this journey would bring clarity.
Kunal remembered the tales his mother had told him of the Jansan army, the warriors of old, made in the image of Naria, the just and strong twin. That army had been revered, unlike now.
Maybe it was a dream, but as commander he could lead the army back to that era.
A whistle came from Alok, cutting through his thoughts. “I’m impressed. I thought you were doing this for some ridiculous sense of loyalty to your uncle. He was a strong general but he did you no favors.”
“Of course, I am—” He stopped, realizing it would be easier to get Alok to stop worrying if he thought Kunal was doing this for himself. And Kunal couldn’t deny that his uncle had been hard, didn’t even want to deny that. “It’s both, Alok. Honor and ambition. It’s what I have now.”
“Anyway, was any of the information we collected useful?” Alok asked.
“I thought it would simply be a collection of scattered and unhelpful stories. But I’ve noticed some patterns.”
Alok raised an eyebrow and Kunal began ticking off each with his fingers. “One, the Viper works alone—that seems to be a theme in every report. No official affiliation with the Crescent Blades or any of the other rebel groups. There are suspicions, but the Blades have never hesitated to recognize one of their agents, especially one who’s created as much havoc as the Viper. Two, there are no clear depictions of the Viper’s face and he often disappears quickly after a mission, which tells me he’s the type of person who doesn’t stand out. And finally, two whips.”
Kunal paused, and Alok scooted closer. “That means stealth. The Viper relies on speed and stealth rather than brute force.”
Alok let out a low whistle. “So, basically, you should have listened to me and not agreed to this crazy mission?”
Kunal looked to the skies and ignored him, tucking away rations he had left over from his last mission in the west.
“Fine, ignore me,” Alok said. “You know, I was talking to Zane and he said he saw someone last night.”
Kunal’s head whipped around. “And you waited this long to mention it? I thought you wanted me to stay alive.”
“Yes, for some reason.” Alok rolled his eyes. “I had forgotten because it seemed like such a useless piece of information. He was drunker than a trader at the Moon Festival. It showed—he said he saw a girl.”
Kunal froze, his hand hovering over his pack, not realizing he was holding the knife in his hand the wrong way. He looked down—a sliver of blood cut across his palm.
Alok chuckled and continued, oblivious. “Clearly he couldn’t handle his wine. I wish there had been girls around last night.” An ungainly snort escaped from Alok. “It’s like he wants us to think he’s lost his mind.”
It was preposterous. The mythical Viper, slayer of soldiers, warrior of the rebels.
A girl?
Those chestnut eyes stabbing a knife into the general’s heart?
He tried, but he couldn’t paint that picture in his mind. She was a trader girl from Jansa, here to deliver poppy seeds and gone just as soon. If Kunal had thought any more, he would’ve been more careful, more alert. Kunal laughed along with him, brushing aside the thoughts. The guard had seen what he wanted to see.
“Alok, get off your fat ass and help me finish packing. I need to leave with the rest before sundown.” Alok smirked at the insult but moved to help him, tossing Kunal’s sheathed weapons onto his bed.
“Looks like I’ve finally rubbed off on you.”
Kunal kept up the banter with Alok, glad to have his mind occupied with anything other than the girl.
Chapter 10
Esha looked up at the sky as the last purple of the sunset faded.
Back home in Dharka, it was monsoon season, and she checked the sky out of habit, despite knowing there would be no rain in Jansa. She settled into the small nook of the tree she had climbed, broad enough to hide her small form. The Tej rain forest was lush and thicketed with banyan trees, the perfect cover for her.
It was too risky to camp on the ground, another side effect of the broken janma bond. Strange things had been reported over the last two years: animals turning to blood when berries would’ve been their choice before, twisting tree roots that clawed at passersby in the night. Almost as if the land itself was angry.
Esha tugged out a small blanket to cover herself from bugs, pulling out the stolen report scrolls as well. She had glanced at them earlier but needed a private place to look through them. The sounds that enveloped her, the chirping and hissing animals, the breeze on the leaves of the canopy above her, all buffeted her. This was the only privacy she would find while on the run.
She squinted at the scroll in her hand, trying to take in the sloping scrawl as the last of the sunlight vanished. Already a difficult task, but someone had decided to write the cursed reports in Old Jansan, which she wasn’t familiar with. There was a part of her that was hoping her years of tutelage in Old Dharkan would help, but despite sharing a script, the two languages were different enough that it made her head ache.
Esha resisted the urge to crumple up the scroll and toss it to the family of monkeys a couple of trees down. Instead, she rubbed her eyes and rolled the scroll back up, deciding to give it another shot in the morning when she reached the next town before Faor.
Night descended and all around her the trees began to emit a faint glow. Esha took a minute to marvel as the rain forest slowly came to eerily colored life. She had heard tales of the Tej since she was a child, the glowing forest, but seeing it in person always made her breath catch. It was as if the whole of the Tej had been dipped in bright green paint.