Page 47 of Blood of the Sands

While the Trials had a brutal and bloody history, deliberately killing a competitor had been outlawed since the founding of Kelvadan, Kelvar being the last Champion to behead his final enemy and emerge victorious from the duels. Now, the duels were performed with blunted blades and foul play was frowned upon. I was equal parts relieved not to have to dispatch all my opponents and enraged that the importance of the Trials had been undercut in such a fashion. Unfortunate riders still perished every Trial though, whether through accident or the will of the desert. I guessed it was one of the purposes of the opening hunt: to weed out those who were too young or incompetent before the events became truly dangerous.

Finally, the edge of the sun came into view and the line of riders broke, green warriors galloping off hectically while more experienced competitors carefully picked a direction to ride in. I nudged Alza to head east, away from the majority of riders who headed to the plains dotted with arrowgrass where herds of Oryx would roam.

The rules of the opening hunt hadn’t specified what kind of game one needed to bring in, only that you must cleanly slay a creature and present it at the central fire of the encampment by the time the sun reached its zenith. While many would aim for slower and more plentiful oryx, the number of hunters tracking them would spook and scatter the herds. Taking down a predator like a red wolf or a caracal came with more risk, but I would avoid the inexperienced and enthusiastic hunters driving off my kill.

The sounds of other hoofbeats indicated a handful of riders following my lead, but quickly dispersed until Alza and I were alone among the dunes. Zephyr slept in my tent, head tucked under one wing. I would leave him behind during all the events, despite how valuable he would be on such a hunt, unwilling to risk anybody saying I did not follow the terms of the Trials to the letter. After all, such complaints were why Lord Alasdar was not welcome in Kelvadan anymore.

Alza’s ears pricked, and I pulled her to a halt, listening for what she heard. In the distance, in the direction of a formation of golden rocks, quiet yips signaled the presence of a caracal. Hopefully they were hunting in small numbers so I could make quick work of my kill.

Reaching across my back, I pulled out my short bow and several arrows, looped around my shoulder. My saber wouldn’t be very useful on this hunt, but I never rode out without it.

Alza slowed as I nudged her toward the rocks. She seemed to sense my need for quiet and placed her hooves gently. It might be more difficult to sneak up on the caracal this way, but I was in a better position to give chase on horseback, and it would give me the advantage against a larger group of them.

We approached a bend in the rock, the sound of yips and growling growing louder, echoing against the stone. I leaned forward to peek around the edge, seeing a single caracal bent over a small carcass, likely an unfortunate jackrabbit or rock squirrel. It had a successful hunt, and now I was about to have mine.

Nocking my bow, I took advantage of the animal’s distraction to take careful aim. I inhaled the scent of the earth and the blood of the dead animal on the ground, calling on the desert to guide my arrow. I wasn’t as practiced of an archer as a swordsman, but the desert had never let me go hungry while I served her, and my arrows flew true on a hunt.

The threads of magic snapped taught in my mind, like an untamed horse pulling on its lead, just as I let the arrow loose. Before it could meet its mark, a hooded figure dropped from the short rocky cliff above the caracal, where I had failed to see it crouched. It landed squarely on the caracal, who yelped before suddenly cutting off.

My arrow ricocheted on the rock over the figure’s head, having missed them by inches. Their head snapped up and I was pinned by a pair of golden eyes. For some reason, I felt as if I couldn’t move, bow still held ready at the side of my face.

She, for I could now see the figure was a woman, sprang to her feet and drew the saber from across her back, leaving her short knife embedded in the caracal’s neck just below its skull. It had been a clean stab, severing the caracal’s spinal cord and killing it neatly.

“I thought it was against the rules to engage with other competitors on the hunt,” she accused, although the way she held her blade didn’t seem to speak of any reluctance to fight.

“I was shooting at the caracal,” I admitted. I didn’t need to explain myself to her, but something familiar in her voice took me off guard and left me more focused on placing it than the contents of our conversation.

“Well, this kill is mine.” She sheathed her saber with a snap and stepped over the felled animal without turning her back to me, clearly distrustful. Probably rightly so.

She yanked her smaller blade free from the caracal, revealing it to be only a few inches long, before wiping it on her pants and shoving it into her belt. She seemed utterly unperturbed by the blood now smeared across her thighs and belly, a sight that stirred something odd in me.

“That’s a rather small knife for hunting caracal with,” I pointed out before I could stop myself. I should be off to find other prey, but my legs were frozen at Alza’s side, refusing to nudge her away. My mount didn’t seem inclined to move of her own accord either.

“It works better than a sling. Besides, I knew it would be distracted with the dead rock squirrel I planted.”

My brows furrowed, rubbing up against my mask as I frowned. “If you had already caught the rock squirrel, then why bother with the caracal?”

The glare she fixed me with knocked something lose in my head, and I was brought back to the last time I had stared into those eyes—my blade at her throat and magic crackling through the air. It was a glare that had haunted my dreams too often in the past months.

“Keera,” I breathed involuntarily, cutting off whatever answer she had been about to give. It had been months since she had told me the name I hadn’t even meant to ask for, but I had woken with it echoing in my mind more times than I cared to admit. The fact that she escaped that night irked me, and the fact that I had let her grated at me even more. Even though I had hesitated to slit her throat twice, knowing the last person to see my true face lived ached like a healing brand. Still, I had turned away to douse the burning tents while she dashed off into the night. I thought it likely that she died, despite how often she visited me in my sleep, seeing it as my subconscious reminding me of the shame of my failures. Now, Keera crouched before me looking utterly transformed. Where her hair had been matted and dark before, it was now a mass of curls that shined the darkest brown in the sun. Her cheeks had filled out to accentuate her heart shaped face, deep set eyes under a bold brow, giving her a look of proud strength. The difference in her appearance made it clear why I hadn’t recognized her immediately, but she wore the same defiant expression I remembered.

She sprang to her feet and drew her saber once more, the silver blade a blur as she whipped it out before her in defense.

I lowered my bow and raised my hands. “I plan to abide by the rules of the Trials. You are safe from me...for now.”

She didn’t sheath her weapon, but the tip lowered a few inches. She clicked her tongue a few times and the sound of hooves signaled her approaching mount. As a golden stallion rounded the bend, I nearly choked on my own tongue.

Lord Alasdar’s warhorse, Bloodmoon, calmly approached the woman, although I didn’t miss his dark eyes flicking over me and imagined they held distaste. I’m sure my gaze held no less contempt, as he had certainly left me with broken ribs from a savage kick more than once. I supposed I should have guessed Keera took him in her escape, but it seemed more likely to me that he had run off during the lightning storm. After all, he was only a few degrees shy of completely wild and liked nobody, not even Lord Alasdar.

Things seemed to have changed though, as Bloodmoon thrust his nose into Keera’s chest, completely ignoring her drawn sword and searching for affection. She kept her glare on me but patted him on the nose. The last time I had tried to touch him, I nearly lost several fingers to his vicious teeth.

I slung my bow back across my shoulder and stifled a sigh. Whoever this woman was, every second I spent in her presence left me more off balance than the last. I couldn’t afford to lose focus with so much riding on the Trials.

Now that my weapon was away, Keera seemed a little more at ease and hoisted the caracal off the ground with one arm, hefting it across her mount’s back. She followed it, making the leap up onto his significant height easier than I might have guessed.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you won’t get away with it,” she announced as she kneed her mount around. “I know what you have planned for Kelvadan, and we are ready. I won’t let the city fall.”

With that, she kicked her horse into an easy canter and headed back toward the mountains in a puff of dust. I squinted after her for a few moments before realizing how bright the sun had gotten.