Page 12 of Blood of the Sands

When all four claw swipes across Alza’s foreleg were cauterized, she collapsed against the rocky cave floor, sweat dampening her sides and foam at the corners of her mouth. I gave her the water left in our large water bag, forgoing refilling my skin. She needed it more than me.

As she settled down to rest, I sat beside the fire, letting it dwindle down to embers. While the desert nights grew cold, I could easily rest beside Alza for warmth, with no need to burn the little brush in the area.

My hands drifted up to remove my mask now that I was alone, but I hesitated. The magic of the desert still drifted on the air, whispering under my skin and caressing my mind, tugging at the tightly knotted ball of magic living at the base of my skull. The feeling of being watched that accompanied the sensation gave me pause, like the magic would see me for who I was, and I would be lost to the madness in my mind.

Without removing my mask or gloves, I laid down next to Alza, facing the entrance of the cave with my saber in hand.

Come dawn, Alza’s wounds looked improved, but she still favored her injured leg when she walked. One more day and we would be able to travel again. I would have to go out to hunt and gather water to account for our delay.

I strapped on my dirk and saber, wrapping my hood securely around my head and shoulders before stepping out onto the baked earth outside the cave. I turned my face up to the sky and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. As much as the feeling of magic that lingered after the appearance of the Sichat made me wary, I knew it could guide me to supplies as well. The creature wouldn’t have lingered here if there was no water source nearby. I assumed even beasts of myth needed water.

I let my feet carry me away from the rocky formations forming the cliff-face behind me, out into open land. A shadow passed over my vision, and I looked up to find a falcon gliding overhead. It passed by me before wheeling in several circles and descending in the distance.

I followed its path to a rough well, the kind often dug by herds of roaming horses with their sharp hooves. As I approached, a light tinkle grabbed my attention.

The falcon I had seen before stood at the edge of the watering hole, a black-tailed jackrabbit limp in its claws. It hopped forward, and the jingling sounded again. I cocked my head at the bell tied to the hawk’s leg, marking it as a hunting animal. Perhaps I was closer to Clan Tibel’s encampment than I thought, or maybe a hunting party had ventured far from camp. After all, game was growing sparse, and Clan Katal’s hunters roamed farther afield to feed our numbers.

Before I could investigate further, the falcon took to the air with its prize. I noted the direction it had gone before turning to the well before me. Tracks in the muddy ground, indicating this water source was frequented by local wildlife, told me it was safe to drink from. I filled the large water bag as well as my own skin before slinging both across my back and turning back to the rocky cliff where Alza waited.

Not yet a quarter of the way back, a cloud of dust on the horizon to the left drew my attention. I squinted, trying to gauge the distance to the cloud. If I hurried, I could make it back to the shelter of the cave before the sandstorm reached me. Just about to break into a jog, I stopped, catching sight of the distinctive shadows of horses in the haze of dust. It was no storm, but riders approached.

I dropped my burden of water to the ground, drawing my saber from across my back. Out here in the wilds, approaching hunters were rarely friendly. As the thundering of hooves on sun baked dirt grew louder, the glint of sharpened steel in the sunlight, blades held aloft, revealed that the riders felt the same about my presence.

They formed a wedge shape, the leader charging at me with a sword pointed forward like a spear, ready to skewer me like a wild boar. I stayed still, sword drawn at my side. Even though my eyes stayed open, the world blurred around me, sensations narrowing to the vibrations of approaching hoofbeats beneath my boots and the trembling of magic connecting me to every grain of sand in the desert, nearly overwhelming if I hadn’t learned to block out most of the feeling.

I didn’t move until the riders were a horse length away, but then launched myself into the air, my leap bolstered by threads of magic. Not expecting my move, the leader didn’t have time to raise his sword as I flew over his head, twisting in midair to land on his mount behind him. The hilt of my saber connected with the side of his skull with a crack, and he slid off the broad back. The flame of his life in the magical landscape snuffed out as the horses trampled him. I nearly winced at the sudden extinguishing of light, but the roar of battle already overtook my mind.

The horse beneath me dug in its hooves, bucking and skidding to a halt at the change in weight, realizing his master was no longer the one on his back. I squeezed my thighs around his middle to stay on even as my hands busied themselves holding my sword and pulling my dirk from my belt.

I reached a tendril of magic out to the horse’s mind, calming it—a relatively simple task given that the magic of the desert ran strong in horses as well. I had inherited a touch of influence with horses alongside the rest of my power. The stallion calmed under me, and I leaned my weight, wheeling him back around to charge at the other riders who had scattered upon the leader’s demise.

I wove between them, swinging my saber and dirk on either side, bodies of my foes slipping to the earth as blood coated my blades. My breath came in humid pants through the metal holes of my mask. With each life that I silenced, the voices in my head grew until they screamed so loud, I felt my skull would split open.

A screech of power cut above the rest, and I whipped around just in time to dodge a whip of fire lashing out from the hands of one of the last remaining riders. Such power was rare outside of clan lords or their warlords. Still, it was no match for mine.

With a clench of my fist, the flames that danced in the rider’s palm extinguished. He shook his hand as if trying to resummon his advantage. It was too late. I flicked my wrist, sending my dirk flying across the space between us. With a wet thud, it embedded itself right below his breastbone. The rider let out a gurgling gasp and began to slip sideways from his mount. I didn’t watch, instead turning away to face the rest of the riders.

I wheeled around, looking for my next opponent, only to find a littering of slumped forms on the sand surrounded by frightened horses. I growled, ready to fell another fighter but none approached. Still, my instincts screamed for blood, a cacophony clamoring in my head, awoken by my use of magic in the fight and begging for more.

I slid off my mount, unsteady on my feet, and fell to my knees. My vision cleared enough for me to focus on the sight of my saber, shining crimson in the harsh sun. Methodically, I wiped the blood of my felled enemies on the sand, offering the desert the lives I had taken.

The voices in my head quieted from a scream to a whisper to a rare moment of silence as the sands drank up my sacrifice. All the clansmen’s lives belonged to the desert, and she begged me to return them to her. I exhaled heavily as the constant threat of madness retreated.

The desert always screamed at me, as if she wanted me to do something, find something, destroy something. She only quieted to a whisper for a short while after the rush of battle had abated, and I assumed I had given her what she wanted. At least, that was Lord Alasdar’s thought, and he knew more secrets of the desert than most. He alone had discovered the truth of why the desert was angry and had been able to teach me how to control my magic. I would follow his wisdom.

A jingle broke the new fallen silence, drawing my attention to the falcon I had seen earlier. It hopped around one of the fallen riders as if waiting for instruction or expecting him to lift his arm so he could perch. I rose from my knees and walked over to the body.

The blue sash around his waist, fastened with a silver pin, embossed with a snarling hyena, declared him a warrior of Clan Tibel. I recognized him as the one who had tried to burn me with a whip of magical fire. A small shard of blood glass, known to enhance the bearer’s magic, glimmered on a cord around his neck, explaining some of the strength of his power. He had come to the fight prepared. It seemed Clan Tibel expected my arrival, and I was not welcome. This attack was a message, and I would send one in return.

With a decisive slash of my saber, I severed the warrior’s head from his lifeless body. The falcon squawked in alarm and fluttered a few feet away as the blade hit the sand next to it. Still, it watched me with a cocked head as I lifted the severed head by the hair, more blood dripping onto the already stained sand. I carried it over to the horse lingering nearby, clearly at a loss without his master.

The mounts bore no saddlebags, signaling we were not far from Clan Tibel’s camp. They would carry my messages back to their home. The riders had been sent to tell me their clan would not bargain. The return of their heads would tell Clan Tibel that the Viper did not compromise.

When I arrived back at the cave where Alza rested, she whickered and greeted me at the entrance. I tried to brush her away, not wanting her to put weight on her leg if it wasn’t healed yet, but she snuffled her nose against my clothes, smelling blood and seemingly giving me a once over to make sure it wasn’t mine. I gently pushed her head away to unstrap the water bags from my back. That seemed to placate her, and she quickly turned her attention to the water, drinking deeply and noisily as I held it for her. I took the opportunity to watch how she stood. She carried her weight easily on all four legs, not avoiding the injured one. While the flesh looked angry and blistered where I had cauterized it, the wounds hadn’t been deep, and it seemed it would carry her fine.

Now that I knew we were so close to Clan Tibel’s camp, there was no need to delay longer. I began packing up our small camp, tying saddlebags together and making sure our fire was completely extinguished. As I approached Alza with our supplies, a tinkling caught my attention.

I whirled toward the cave entrance, dropping my burden, hands flying to the hilts of my weapons. Standing in the cave entrance was the falcon from earlier. It hopped toward me inquisitively, and I frowned.