Intermix Nation (39 page)

The three campaigners enter a waiting truck
in the underground garage. Nazirah spends the following hours
curled up in the backseat, ignoring everyone.

Nazirah rose early, unable to sleep. She
bathed in a wooden soaking tub filled with mountain water, heated
by sizzling fire stones. Nazirah scrubbed her lips until they bled,
trying to erase all traces of him, of what they did. She cried into
her knees, alone in the dark, until the water turned icy.

Submerging entirely, Nazirah sank into
divine inexistence, nothing but a bag of bones, atoms, and
collapsed matter. She sank far down and she tried to stay, there,
in that black hole of nothingness. But it spit her out. Lungs about
to burst, Nazirah returned to the surface, a sputtering, gasping
mass of being.

This needs to stop.

“There is only one path to redemption,”
Nazirah whispered, remembering her promise. “You know what it
is.”

Truthfully, Nazirah isn’t sure what she
knows.

The truck zooms along. Nazirah sits up
slowly, blinking into the bright sunlight. She looks out the
window, finds that the barren north has become intensely green.
Green like emeralds, green like envy. Green like the eyes of
someone she has spent hours avoiding.

The mountain ranges have been replaced by
lush, rolling hills. The ice has melted, forming freshwater streams
and creeks. Trees, taller than Nazirah ever imagined, blanket the
vivid sky. Osen was the cradle and rattle of Kasimir’s childhood,
the rock of his youth, the muse of his adolescence. It was his
first love, his lifelong love.

But not his one love.

Coming here is surreal. Nazirah was once so
excited to visit Osen. But that was in the beginning of the
campaign, when the threat of war seemed distant, when Eridies was
not under attack, when life made more sense.

The truck rolls to a stop. Nazirah steps
outside and stretches. A soft breeze caresses her cheek. The scents
of pine and grass saturate the air. Valestream is breathtaking, an
architectural wonder. Impossibly large oak trees abound, a legion
of bark and leaf. An entire village, built high into the trees and
surprisingly modern, connected by rope bridges and winding stairs
pegged into thick trunks. Several loggers and carpenters hum in the
distance, familiar childhood melodies, lullabies Kasimir would sing
to send Nazirah to sleep.

The villagers swing axes effortlessly,
bringing down timber without ceremony. Nazirah closes her eyes,
inhaling, turning her face upwards. She can almost feel Kasimir’s
presence floating somewhere in the treetops.

Aldrik stands beside her, cracking his neck
and rolling his shoulders. “They expect us to sleep in a damn
tree?” he grumbles. “We’re not a bunch of monkeys.”

“I think it’s amazing,” Nazirah says
candidly.

Adamek snorts. “Good luck crossing those
bridges on your own.”

Nazirah glares at him. “Somehow, I’m sure
I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Irri!”

Nazirah whirls around. Lumi and Taj wave at
her, smiling and sitting on a bench carved into the base of a tree.
Nazirah abandons Aldrik and Adamek, running over to them.
Overjoyed, she gives them both huge hugs. Lumi’s hair has grown a
bit longer and Taj has slightly more muscle. But they both appear
largely unchanged. Their constancy amidst the chaotic gyre of
Nazirah’s life lifts her spirits.

“Who are you, and what have you done with
Nazirah Nation?” Lumi asks. She pulls away, taken aback by
Nazirah’s friendliness, making room on the bench.

Nazirah smiles widely, never happier to hear
her dulcet tones. “What are you doing here?” she asks breathlessly.
“It’s so good to see you!”

“I was called back from assignment a week
early,” Lumi responds. “I traveled through Valestream last night,
where Taj was. We heard you were passing through today and decided
to wait for you.”

“You did?”

“We needed a ride.”

Lumi hits Taj’s arm. “We may have also
desired safe passage into Krush, considering the current
circumstances.”

“You mean your uncle’s troops?” Nazirah
asks.

Lumi sighs. “Yes,” she says. “My uncle is
completely incapable of doing anything right. But with the troops
already breaching Krush, set to reach the compound within a day,
it’s best to take precautions. He’s psychotic and
unpredictable.”

“Why would Gabirel send him in the first
place?” Nazirah asks. “And to burn everything on foot? Why not send
the Medi troops in choppers?”

“Because,” Lumi scoffs, as
if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “this isn’t the
fight yet, Nazirah. It’s
a
fight … but not
the
fight. It’s meant to intimidate
us, instill fear. Or maybe overconfidence, knowing Ivan’s
ineptitude.”

“How have your travels been?” asks Taj,
trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s been unreal,” she replies. “It was so
good to go home, even for a little while. And the Red West was
fascinating … once you got used to the dust. The music, the food,
the dancing … everything was intoxicating.”

“I know,” Taj jokes. “You Eridians cannot
dance.”

“Hey!” Nazirah says. “I’m only half
Eridian.”

“From what I’ve seen,” he replies, “the
Oseni aren’t much better.”

Adamek and Aldrik climb some stairs as they
talk, entering one of the larger buildings lower in the trees,
Valestream’s visitor lodge. Nazirah doesn’t move to follow. There’s
nothing on the agenda until tomorrow morning. And right now,
Nazirah could not care less about campaigning.

“Zima was so beautiful, Lumi,” Nazirah
continues. “We were in Shizar for less than two days, but it was
worth it. I got to see snow for the first time, and the
mountains.”

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” she says.
“Returning to Zima and working in the hospital was exactly what I
needed. Helping those people grounded me … after everything.”

Nazirah nods in understanding. Walking down
the streets of Rafu centered her, too. Seeing the slum put her
upbringing into perspective. And Lumi does seem more at peace.
Although Nazirah knows the grief from Aneira’s death still lurks
painfully below the surface. “That’s great, Lumi,” Nazirah says.
“Although it wasn’t so wonderful to learn about the intermix
situation in Shizar. I wish you warned me.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But I wanted you to
give Zima a fair shake.” Nazirah only shrugs. “Tell us though,
what’s been happening with the campaign?” Lumi glances briefly at
Taj before continuing. “There have been so many rumors circulating
about you! No one knows what’s fact or fiction.” She lists the
juiciest gossip on her delicate fingers. “You and Adamek Morgen are
forbidden lovers … you were caught in some insane fire … you were
attacked by a psychopath.…”

None of these are just rumors.

Nazirah coughs, voice strained. “Well,” she
begins, “Morgen and I obviously aren’t together … like that. Aldrik
thought it up to garner more support on campaign. We’ve just kind
of been going along with it to appease him.”

Taj smirks triumphantly. “Told you so!”

Lumi shrugs, reaching into her jeans and
pulling out a wad of money. She counts off a few notes and hands
them to Taj, who pockets them happily.

“You bet on that?” Nazirah screeches.

“Sorry,” Lumi says, not sounding sorry at
all. “I thought it might be possible.”

“How could that ever be possible?”

“Please, Nazirah. You and Adamek have more
primal tension than two NoZimans trapped in a cave during a
blizzard.”

“Lumi!”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Even Cato didn’t believe me,” Nazirah says,
immediately feeling guilty about mentioning him. But Lumi doesn’t
seem rattled in the least. It seems these past few weeks really
have changed her.

“He did have a few choice words for you when
we last spoke,” Lumi states.

Nazirah groans, putting her head in her
hands. “We’ve never fought like this before,” she says.

“People fight, Irri,” Taj says, “so they can
make up. That’s what we do.”

“I think Cato just needed a friend,” Lumi
chimes in, unusually supportive. “He really didn’t say much.”

“How is he?”

“He misses you,” she says. “I can tell.
Don’t worry. You can hash it out once you finally talk
tomorrow.”

“Unless we all get killed,” Taj jokes
grimly. Lumi glares at him.

“Right,” Nazirah says slowly. “So anyway …
that’s that. We were in a slum fire in Rafu. But I think the
campaign has overall been relatively successful. Although, I’m not
sure how much I’ve helped.”

“Are you kidding, Irri?” asks Taj. “I can’t
speak for the other territories. But in Osen, no one has stopped
talking about you since that fire. Hearing your name inspires
people, gives them hope and strength. They rally around you.”

“Honestly?”

“It’s true,” Lumi agrees. “In Zima too. I
don’t know if you’re aware, but Niko organized this entire
propaganda campaign to promote you. Your face, your story, your
suffering has been plastered all over the news, the television, the
streets. Glumindo and Badoomi even managed to hack into the Medi
stations a few times. People seem to find you relatable … the
idiots.”

Nazirah laughs. She can always count on Lumi
to tell it to her straight.

“And don’t forget about the carrier rebels,”
Taj reminds Lumi.

“Carrier rebels?” asks Nazirah,
overwhelmed.

“Niko dispersed dozens of them throughout
the four territories,” Taj explains. “Their sole purpose for weeks
now has been to instigate propaganda about the rebellion and spread
rumors about you. You know, drum up support and stuff. Just the
other day, I was taking a leak in the woods and a carrier told me
–”

“Enough about me,” Nazirah says quickly.
“Lumi, I know you’ve been working in the hospital. Taj, you’ve been
here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Taj says. “Isn’t Valestream
unbelievable? The entire village gains altitude every year as the
trees grow.”

“I’ve never seen trunks so wide,” Lumi says,
looking around.

“The trees are treated with some sort of
MEDIcine,” Taj says. “It makes them grow unbelievably quickly … and
strong. Valestream is the main supplier of lumber to Mediah. I’ve
been helping the loggers cut the trees down, redistributing timber
to the rebels so it can be dispersed throughout the territories.
Everyone here is amazingly supportive.”

Nazirah has never seen either of them look
so satisfied, so optimistic. She wonders if the other recruits feel
this way as well, a foreign hope springing inside of her. Maybe,
just maybe, they actually have a shot at winning this war. “How do
the Medis feel about this redistribution?” she asks curiously.

“Well,” Taj says proudly, “we’ve been lying
to them for weeks now. Telling them the winter is harder than
expected, our workforce has suffered, stuff like that. Basically
coming up with every excuse possible for why we aren’t meeting our
quotas.”

Lumi quirks an eyebrow. “And they actually
believe you?”

“Course not,” he chuckles. “But the
Chancellor has his hands full, what with the anarchy in Rafu and
the march to Krush. He’s trying to keep the Eridian dissent quiet
as possible, not wanting the rest of the country to know how big
the rebellion has become.”

“But how is Gabirel explaining the lack of
resources to the capital?” asks Nazirah.

“He’s apparently saying there’s some sort of
epidemic raging throughout the territories … that the government is
intentionally restricting supplies because our goods are
contaminated.”

Nazirah feels uneasy about the whole
situation. It seems too simplistic, like they’re missing a huge
piece of the puzzle. She remembers the Chancellor in Adamek’s
memory, sitting leisurely beside his dead wife, smoking a cigar.
Somehow, Nazirah doesn’t think Gabirel casually dismisses
dissention or deception.

“How do you know all this, Taj?” Lumi asks.
“They never told us anything classified at the hospital.”

“Grum told me.”

Nazirah chokes. “Grum … as in Mather
Grum?”

“As in Mather Grum, whom you gave a
concussion in combat training?” Taj clarifies.

“Yes.”

“That would be the one.”

Lumi makes a face. “He’s here?”

“For weeks now,” Taj says. “He’s actually
not that bad. Drinks like a fish, but who doesn’t? He keeps to
himself most of the time, transporting resources and intercepting
information. Looking forward to a rematch, Irri?”

Nazirah is not. “I think that was just
beginner’s luck,” she mumbles, recalling her much less successful
encounter with Ramses.

“You underestimate yourself,” Lumi says.
“You may be small, but you’re relatively smart. It was your brains
that helped you win that fight with Grum, not your brawn.”

“I guess.”

Feeling the tears welling, Nazirah looks
away, trying to erase the memories of Ramses … hitting her …
punching her … touching her. With so much happening in the last few
days, Nazirah hasn’t allowed her mind to go there. But what would
have happened if Adamek hadn’t saved her?

She would be dead.

“It’s true?” Lumi whispers in shock,
noticing her reaction. “What happened in the Red West? The Khan’s
son tried to….” She trails off.

Nazirah nods sadly, wiping a tear away with
the back of her hand. “Morgen saved me.”

Taj glances at Lumi, but she’s distracted by
Nazirah’s wrist. Lumi grabs her arm, staring at Nazirah’s tattoo in
disbelief. “Where did you get this?”

“An old monastery in Shizar.”

“Zero-five-one-four,” Taj reads out slowly,
confused.

“Protection marks are not something to take
lightly, Nazirah,” Lumi snaps.

“I’m sure loads of Zimans have them.”

Lumi shakes her head. “They don’t,” she
says. “It’s like the dusza, a lost tradition. They’re extremely
rare.”