Chimípu rested on the borrowed bed and stared at the rock ceiling. She could only sleep a short while before she woke up. Many days of sleeping alone had taken their toll on her and she felt like there were assassins approaching even while locked in the room.
Across the hall, Hyonèku snored fitfully. Every few minutes, he would cough wetly or groan in his sleep. He kept shifting in the bed, as if his injuries prevented him from getting comfortable.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Even though it has been days since they fled Kosobyo City, it felt like years. An eternity of no sleep, fighting off assassins, and worrying about the others. Desòchu had given her the longest route because she was the fastest. It also meant long hours of racing while thinking about the others: Desòchu, Nifùni, Mapábyo, Byochína, and Rutejìmo.
Byochína had been killed along with an entire caravan heading toward the mountains. She was no doubt hiding inside it but that didn't protect her when warriors came and slaughtered every man, woman, and child to get to her. When Chimípu had ran by, she almost missed the Shimusògo colors among the burnt corpses.
Sadness caught in Chimípu's throat. They had separated to make it difficult to catch them all but that didn't make the pain any less. She was a warrior, she spent her entire life defending her clan. It was her duty to protect them against death, not let them run alone into oblivion.
She wanted to ask about the others but Hyonèku passed out during dinner. She tried to close her eyes but her thoughts pried them open once again. With a groan, she rolled over. Her unwashed clothes crinkled and the scent of dried blood and ashes rose up. She wasn't going to sleep.
With a groan, she rolled over and then out of bed.
Chimípu double-checked the door lock before backing into a corner. She quickly changed, her eyes never leaving the door. When she finished, she secured her weapon and grabbed the message tube containing the stolen Kosòbyo documents. Everything else she left in the room, though part of her wanted to bring her pack in case she had to run away again.
A few minutes later, she was walking outside of the house. Like every other home, it was a small place shaped from the living rock of the mountain.
“Late night walk?” asked Gichyòbi as he walked up. He was no longer in his armor but wore a simple gray outfit with his clan name embroidered along the hems. He was a broad man with graying hair and an easy smile, Chimípu could see why Rutejìmo was fond of him.
She nodded. “Couldn't sleep.”
“The night before a battle? Always the worst.” Gichyòbi sat down on a bench near to her. With his broad shoulders and muscles, it looked like there was only a sliver of space to sit in.
She walked over to a bench opposite of him and sat down. “It's hard to relax,” she said. “There were so many days of watching over my back I can't relax.”
He nodded but said nothing.
She tugged on her shirt, letting the red fabric run through her fingers. “Do you know what happened to the others?”
“Desòchu is dead.”
Chimípu sighed. “He stayed behind, didn't he?”
“To slow the Kosòbyo down. He told Jìmo before they parted ways.”
She shook her head. “That's what warriors do, right? None of us are going to die of old age.”
Gichyòbi chuckled. He drummed his fingers along the stone bench. “No. It sucks rotten eggs, doesn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Rutejìmo said that Nifùni was desecrated, had his head cut off.”
“What about Mapábyo, his wife?”
Gichyòbi held out his hands to indicate he didn't know. “Safe, I hope. We all love Pábyo. She's been our guest many times and we were looking forward to seeing the children next year.”
She said nothing for a long moment. She prayed that Rutejìmo and Mapábyo were both safe. After a moment, she had to ask a question that haunted her. “Did he really speak for Mifúno?”
Gichyòbi's dark face paled slightly and the easy smile faded. “It was singularly the most terrifying moment of my life. It felt like having the personification of death standing right in front of me. I was judged by a force as powerful as the sun.”
She shook her head, trying to comprehend it. “What happened to him?”
“He should tell you himself.”
Chimípu gave him a sad smile. “I loved to hear his stories when he's telling his children. He sees the world so differently than us warriors.”
“I bet he'd love to tell this story to the rest of his family.”
She stared at him for a long moment. She let the shirt fall from her fingers. “You know we aren't supposed to have family of our own, not after becoming warriors.”
Gichyòbi raised an eyebrow. “You could adopt like me.”
She smiled weakly. “I guess I did. I adopted Jìmo when his own brother turned his back on him. He was my little brother.”
He nodded again.
Chimípu shook her head. “I feel bad about it sometimes. I was worried about the others, but when I heard that he was alive… I was so happy. It felt like a weight had been lifted from me.”
“Don't worry, you'll be with him soon—”
A screech interrupted him. It was the sound of a bird being tortured and crying out for its mother. It pierced the stone walls of the city and she felt her heart ripping in half from the sound of it. Her power—Shimusògo's—rose up inside her reflexively as an overwhelming urge to run toward the screech echoed endlessly in her head. She lifted her hand to find flames running along her skin.
Across from her, Gichyòbi tensed. His own energies flared up and she felt it scraping against her nerves. Magenta sparks formed between them, scorching both of their clothes.
They backed away from each other. She felt the magic throbbing in her joints. Glancing down the street, she saw that the other Wamifūko warriors were shifting slightly as they stood at attention. They had heard the screech also.
Her heart beat faster. It was a distant call for help and she knew who needed her. “Jìmo.”
Gichyòbi's jaw tightened. “I have never heard the Call from anyone outside of my clan before,” he said in a stern voice.
“I have to go.” She started toward the house to gather her supplies but stopped after two steps. If she survived, she could get them back later. Gulping, she turned. “I need to get to him, now.”
“He has to be hundreds of miles away.”
She snarled at him. Her body ignited into flames, the golden glow flickering against his face and the stones around them. Balling her hands into fists, she stepped toward him. “Are you trying to stop me? I won't—”
“No,” he said. He stiffly pointed in one direction. “Head that way for the eastern gate nineteen.”
The screech came from the west, she could feel it in her heart. “No, I have—”
“There is a straight road that runs through the city from that gate. That will give you enough time to accelerate before you exit the city.”
She stopped despite the overwhelming need to run to Jìmo. Her body vibrated as she forced herself to be still and look at him.
He gestured to the west. “If I heard it, then every warrior, day and night, also heard his cry. Those against you are already getting ready to stop you. I can only promise that you will have the length of this city to gather your power, then you are alone.”
“T-Thank you.” Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she concentrated on the image of Shimusògo. Heat rose inside of her as she focused on it, summoning the clan spirit with her own energies. Sweat prickled her brow from the effort.
“Jìmo has been my friend for years. I would declare war on the sun to save him. I expect no less from his sister.” He gave her a sad smile.
She bowed deeply. As she did, the image in her head sharpened and Shimusògo flashed past her. She spun on her heels and launched after it, accelerating fast enough to snap the air.
It took her a second to reach the eastern gate. Without slowing, she raced around a block to orient herself and started down the street toward the western side.
To her surprise, Wamifūko warriors were already clearing out the path down the street. They rose out of the stone ground and walls. Wordlessly, they yanked people away from the center.
Chimípu's feet struck the ground in a fast beat, thudding against the stone as she tore down the street. The flames over her body grew brighter until golden feathers swirled around her body and trailed behind her.
Magenta lightning crackled ahead of her in an increasingly larger wave. She saw the runes protecting store fronts and the lights over the city flare into brilliance before they exploded. People screamed as she accelerated through the cleared path. The power of Shimusògo filled her veins with the liquid euphoria. It sang to her and pushed away the discomfort and the fear until there was only the overwhelming desire to run.
The gate shattered when she blew past it. Shards of rocks and metal flew in a spiral behind her as she sprinted across the sand. She was moving too fast to avoid the camps that had set up outside of the city but the ropes and fire pits were only the slight tug against her legs and arms when she destroyed them.
Before she knew it, she was racing alone in a pool of light against the night.