“I made a promise, though.” The hint of a grin echoed in his voice, making me blink and look up at him. He gazed down at me, not smiling, but his eyes were soft. “We can’t die, Sparrow, either of us. I swore I would keep us both alive until the end of the journey.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “You said you wouldtry.”
“Same thing.”
A chuckle escaped me, making the hint of his smile turn intothe real thing. He bent close, lowering his head even further. “Do you trust me?” he asked. I swallowed and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then believe I will be there, always. So you don’t have to be afraid of Deathless Kings, of abominations, of anything. I swore I would protect you, and I intend to be there when it matters.”
I grinned, feeling less afraid and needing to be irreverent, if just to scoff at the impossible destiny I was supposed to follow. “Unless a giant flesh-eating insect shows up.”
“Well, then we’ll just have to protect each other.”
A loud sigh stopped me before I could lean up to kiss him. “Please tell me this is not going to be a thing the entire journey to the World Scar.”
Raithe reluctantly pulled back as Kysa shook her head at us. “I have already saddled both Rhyne and Ratuk,” she said, looking at me. “They are ready to depart. I suggest we do so.” She glanced past us to the endless stretch of sand rolling gently to the horizon. “It’s going to be hot out on the dunes,” she muttered, “more so than anything we’ve experienced. There is no water, and there is no shelter. Once Demon Hour comes, only our tents will save us from burning alive. This is going to be a difficult journey, for all of us.” She looked back at us, her eyes grim. “It is only going to get harder before we reach the World Scar. We need to save our strength however we can.”
Kysa was, unfortunately, absolutely right.
The air around us shimmered with heat. Even through my clothes, the sun was baking the top of my head, my shoulders,the back of my neck. The wisps of breeze caressing my face felt like they’d come from a campfire. Not a single blade of grass poked up from the rolling dunes. Not a single insect moved or scurried through the sands. It was like being out on the Dust Sea, surrounded by nothing but sand from one horizon to the next. The only things marring the endless dunes were the prints from Rhyne’s and Ratuk’s passing; a trail of perfectly circular holes marching through the sands, there for just a few seconds before the wind scoured them clean.
The heat of Raithe’s body pressed against my back. He sat tall in the saddle, and I suspected he was trying to shade me from the rays of the sun as best he could. Ahead of us, Rhyne plodded stoically over the sand, seemingly uncaring of the heat, though behind Kysa, Halek slumped dangerously low in the saddle. Normally, I could hear the Fatechaser’s voice raised in song or jokes or cheerful banter. It seemed he was either taking Kysa’s warning about conserving his strength to heart or the heat was too much even for him.
A bead of sweat ran into my eyes, making me blink and scrub at my face. As I lowered my arm, I caught a shimmer of movement over a distant rise: a figure that seemed to dance and sway, before writhing into the heat waves and vanishing. I straightened in the saddle.
“Sparrow? Do you see something?” Raithe asked.
“No. Maybe. I thought I saw... something. Out there.” I gestured to where the figure had been. “It was probably just a mirage.”
He looked at the rise where I pointed, frowning. “Keep yourguard up,” he said. “It might’ve been a mirage, but no one knows what’s really out here. We don’t want to be taken unawares.”
The dunes continued, eternal and endless. I watched one distant rise be slowly scrubbed away by the wind, flattened to almost nothing, only to reappear farther on. The hot wind felt strange against my face; I could almost hear whispers in the breeze that swirled into my hood. I saw no more mirages dancing out on the dunes, but I began to see strange shapes, half buried in the sands. A round section of stone that might’ve been a tower, or a corner that might’ve been part of a wall, glimpsed for just a moment before the dust covered them once more. Once, the sands blew away to reveal half a cracked pottery jug, the faded image of a palm tree gracing its side, before it was swallowed again by the dunes. I remembered what Raithe and Halek had said about a lost civilization, now buried beneath the sands, and my skin prickled.
I also began to have the eerie sensation of being watched. Which was impossible; there was no one out here but us. The sands were empty, as were the dunes and the skeletal remains of whatever was left beneath our feet. But I had always trusted my gut, and those feelings—even the impossible ones—had saved my hide plenty of times. There’d been times in Sparrow-the-street-thief’s life when a job just hadn’t seemed right, or a certain alleyway felt off, when I’d trusted my instincts and gone in a different direction. Sometimes nothing came of it, but a few times, the shadows had hidden guards or predators or other threats, and had I ignored my paranoia, I might’ve ended the night facedown in a gutter. So I made it a point never to ignore these sensations, no matter how improbable they were.
I mentioned the feeling to Raithe, who nodded grimly.
“I feel it, too,” he muttered, making my dismay spike. I’d been secretly hoping he wouldn’t say that and I was just being paranoid. But the kahjai shook his head, observing the dunes with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think we’re alone out here, after all. Something is aware of our presence.”
“Do you think it’s the Deathless King?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.” Raithe sounded frustrated. “If it is, it means the tattoos the Scarab Clan gave you aren’t working, because they’re supposed to keep you hidden from the magic of the king and the ma’jhet. But let’s assume that they are working; otherwise, that abomination wouldn’t have to look for us. Which means there’s something else out here.”
I gazed around the dunes once more, searching but not really expecting to find anything, when I caught a flash of movement on a distant hill. Something tiny, like a cat or a desert hare. It bounded away over the dune and vanished before I got a clear view of it.
I felt Raithe’s surprise as well. “So, there is life out here, after all,” he murmured. “I suppose even in the harshest environments, there are creatures that can thrive. You didn’t see exactly what it was, did you?”
I shook my head. “No, but it was small,” I replied. “I don’t think it’s a creature we have to worry about.”
Raithe made a noncommittal sound. “I wouldn’t trustanything at this point,” he answered darkly, then shrugged. “But you’re probably right. I don’t think an attack by rabid desert hares is very likely.” A short, soundless chuckle. “Though I’m sure Halek has some kind of tale or legend that would prove me wrong.”
“I heard my name.” The Fatechaser twisted in Rhyne’s saddle to look back at us. “Also, I thought I heard the phrase ‘rabid desert hares’? When we have time, I’ll have to tell you the story of me in the livestock market of Thyricia.”
Raithe shook his head. He glanced up at the sky, where Solasti stood directly above us, a white-hot sphere against the blue. “Demon Hour is coming,” he said. “We should make camp soon.”
There was no shelter out on the sands. No trees, buildings, or bushes to provide the slightest bit of shade from the twins. While Kysa bullied Halek into setting up the tent with her, Raithe and I worked to get a shelter erected for the rock beetles before the brunt of Demon Hour arrived. It wasn’t fancy—just a canvas overhang on four poles that would give Rhyne and Ratuk some shade from the suns—but it was far better than leaving them out in the open to bake. The rock beetles were hardy and could endure the harshest environments, even out here, but they would certainly appreciate the shelter.
