Page 108 of Blood of the Sands

At that, Keera did scream before going limp in my grasp. Relief and worry crashed through me in equal measure. I bent to retrieve both of our swords before trudging up in the direction the horses had run. It didn’t take me long to find them, having been scared but not willing to go too far from their masters. Seeing their forms on the horizon, I whistled and Alza cantered toward me immediately. Daiti trailed behind less obediently but quickened his pace when he saw the bundle in my arms.

The stallion seemed to forget his usual animosity toward me as he approached, snuffling Keera’s hair and letting out high pitched whinnies of distress.

“Me too, friend,” I agreed, eyeing him.

I needed to get Keera to fresh water where I could clean her wounds and rehydrate her. She was already beginning to lose too much moisture through her burned skin, oozing onto my clothes as I held her. A dangerous predicament in the desert.

She couldn’t ride, and I didn’t want to tie her to Daiti and risk injuring her further. Alza held perfectly still as I lifted Keera onto her back, as if the mare could sense the gravity of the situation. Once I got Keera settled, I mounted behind her, holding her to my chest and setting off in a direction at random. We had helped the desert today by ridding it of the lava wyrm, and she could repay us by leading me to water.

I rode as fast as I could, trying to balance holding Keera tight enough to avoid unnecessary bumping of her unconscious form while not putting excess pressure on her skin, blisters already bubbling up before my eyes. Some on her shoulder burst as she rubbed against me, coating both me and her in the sticky fluid within—fluid she couldn’t afford to lose with the unforgiving sun beating down on us.

Daiti trotted alongside us without my urging, clearly loyal to Keera. It was probably only an hour or two before a herd of oryx appeared on the horizon, but it felt like a lifetime as I held Keera to my chest. She had seemed so strong not long ago, riding and training and fighting with all the ferocity of a wild caracal. Limp in my arms though, with her head lolling back onto my shoulder as her breath came in shallow pants, I was reminded just how much of her life she had spent flirting with the edge of death.

I spotted the oryx, a dark patch on the horizon, and nudged Alza in their direction. Where there were herds, there would be water. As we approached, I tugged on the magical tether that had sprung up between Keera and me. Though I could feel her magic swirling and eddying on the other side, there was no response. A lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down.

The oryx scattered as we cantered into their midst, but I paid them no mind, heading toward a dip in the landscape. Sure enough, at the bottom was a crudely dug well surrounded by worn stones, likely dug for a clan’s temporary encampment before moving on as they pursued the herds.

I dismounted, draping Keera over Alza’s neck so she wouldn’t fall as I retrieved my sleeping mat. Only after it was spread out on the ground did I lift Keera down, laying her gingerly on the mat where I could wash her and tend to her. Her lashes fluttered and she let out a cracked groan as I laid her down, but still did not wake.

I used my pouches to gather as much clean water as I could before kneeling beside her to set to work. Keera finally woke when I began peeling her charred and tattered clothes away from her raw skin. As painful as her unconsciousness had been, I soon wished for it as her screams tore through the air. At first, she batted at my hands, fighting and twisting against me as I peeled skin away with cloth.

I tried to subdue her gently, but she fought me like a feral sand cat, hissing and crying out. Only when I did my best to pour calm down the tether between us did she settle, although every stifled shriek she let out cut me like a knife.

The work was slow and painstaking. My world narrowed to my task of undressing and cleaning every inch of Keera’s skin. I thought of nothing beyond gently rinsing her seeping skin and keeping a mental hand on the bond between us, gripping on to it as if I could keep her from slipping away even as she stayed delirious, conscious of nothing but the pain.

“Stay with me, love,” I murmured into her hair. “I know you’re too stubborn to die on me. You’ve survived so much—don’t let this be your end.”

I was no stranger to burns, and while none of Keera’s skin was the blackened color of flesh that had been damaged all the way to the root, beyond what time could regrow, it covered so much of her. She was losing a lot of fluid and would continue to for days until she healed. It would take a great deal of luck for her to make it that far without infection setting in. I knew better than to trust in luck.

By the time Keera’s entire side was bandaged in strips of my spare clothes and her broken leg set in a makeshift splint, the unburnt skin on her left side was ashen where it was normally tan. Her shrieks and twitches had died to whimpers and shivers.

She needed more help than I could give her.

I cast about me as if aid would materialize, but only saw our mounts, hovering nearby with an air of concern. I knew better than to think that the desert would offer salvation. She rewarded those who served her, but she was a harsh mistress. Keera knew it too.

There was one way to ask for her help though.

It was something some riders did before battle or in times of great duress to ask for the desert’s guidance. I had seen Izumi do it often, although we never spoke of it. If the desert favored a warrior, they would be granted a temporary rush of power. Some even claimed to hear the desert’s voice in their mind, guiding them, giving them new abilities.

I had shied away from the custom, already plagued by the desert’s constant voice and power I wrestled to keep contained. Fear of what I might do with such a surge of magic had always made me wary.

Legend had it though, that Alyx’s magic had blessed her with the power to heal. I had never given my great-grandmother’s legacy much thought, as overpowered as I was by the stories of Kelvar. Now though, I itched for a taste of her abilities, if only to ease the suffering of the woman before me. A woman who had sewn herself into the fabric of my being with her ferocity, not taking no for an answer, until she had stripped away all the armor I surrounded myself in to lay her calloused hands on the beating heart of the man underneath. As rough as her hands were, they had been heartachingly gentle with me, bringing me peace where I had known none before.

A bitter laugh tore from my throat, a broken, hysterical thing that startled the horses. All these years running from Kelvar’s legacy, and here I was following in his path—giving my heart to a woman who was destined to be my enemy. I hadn’t lost her yet though, and I wouldn’t if there was anything I could do.

I staggered to my feet, unsheathing my dirk from where it rested at my hip. The desert chattered in my skull, sensing what came next, although my single-minded focus on Keera had quieted it for a time. I grit my teeth against the noise, unused to it now after over a week of unprecedented stillness around Keera.

I wrapped my free hand around the blade of the dirk, squeezing it in a tight fist. With a savage jerk, I dragged the knife down, slicing across my hand and fingers. I squeezed tighter, blood welling up between my knuckles in dark rivulets and flooding my grasp. With a hiss of breath between my teeth, I opened my hand, letting the liquid drip down my wrist.

I took a bracing breath in through my nose, watching the first drops quiver on my pinkie finger and bone of my wrist. Then, they fell to the sand, my offering of my life force to the desert in exchange for her power—her guidance.

Color exploded behind my eyes, swirling together in patterns I might have been able to make sense of if not for the screaming echoing inside my head. I wanted to claw at my eyes and ears to make the onslaught of sensation stop, but I seemed to have lost all conception of my own physical form. There was only the desert. Magic was all I could see, hear, even taste.

Wading through the influx of information, I tried to make sense of it, only to discover a pattern to the incessant shouting. I strained to listen closer, even as my instincts told me to shy away. There were words among those voices, although they were being repeated over and over by hundreds of voices, out of unison and at different pitches. Still, once I made sense of them, I couldn’t stop hearing them.

Take her to Lord Alasdar.

The gritty feel of sand in my mouth was the first physical sensation to return. I don’t know how long I existed, outside of space and time, but I found myself lying face down, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon. Pushing to my hands and knees, I glared at the red stain in the sand accusingly. I had risked my sanity for answers, only to be given one that made little sense.