Page 85 of Blood of the Sands

“It drove him mad,” Keera murmured. Her eyes held something soft and vulnerable that I didn’t dare place. I plunged on with my story.

“It did, and worse. The legends say that the Heart of the Desert should be conquered by whoever crosses her from the mountains to the ocean. If you survive the tests that journey would pose, then the magic is yours to command.”

“That’s how the first lords of the clans tamed the sands and were the first to harness the magic of the desert so that it might be a place where we could live,” Keera volunteered, as if it were a line recited from rote. It was a tale all clans people would have heard around their fires, engrained in their heads from the time they were born.

I shook my head. “It’s not just that though. While Alyx herself carried strong magic within her, it wasn’t on the scale of Kelvar, and she began to sicken with age before him. Despite all the power within him, he could do nothing to stop it. As the madness slowly took him, he devised a plan. If he could claim the Heart of the Desert—then he would have the power to keep Alyx alive.

“So, he crossed the desert and stole her Heart to bring back to Kelvadan. But he was too late, and Alyx had died while he was gone. Now the desert is without her Heart, and she shreds herself apart.”

Keera frowned. “The Heart of the Desert isn’t something you can steal. Besides, Kelvar wandered into the desert after Alyx died and was never seen again.”

“Have you been to the doors to Kelvar’s rooms?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you will have seen the tapestry above the entrance, showing the Heart. The red gem that grants all the magic of the desert to whomever should possess it.”

Doubt began to creep into Keera’s eyes where they had been sure before.

“Maybe Kelvar went after the Heart, but we don’t know if he succeeded. He wandered out into the wilds, never to be seen again,” she argued.

“I know he succeeded because I have crossed the desert myself, and I have seen the empty temple where the Heart should be.”

Keera dropped the knife, sitting back on her heels and looking up at me. She rested her bloody hands on her knees, seemingly uncaring of the stains she was leaving on her pants.

“So why wage war on Kelvadan?”

“Because the Heart of the Desert is locked in the rooms at the top of the palace, and I intend to restore it to its rightful place. Only with Lord Alasdar’s help can I open the chamber and retrieve the Heart. Just as Kelvar’s madness is mine to bear, so are the consequences of his legacy, and I must set things right.”

“Then restore the Heart.” Keera’s hands balled into fists on her knees as she stared up at me. “But Kelvadan doesn’t need to fall for that to happen.”

“The monument of Kelvadan is a lie!” I snapped. “Everybody calls it a testament to everlasting love that Kelvar built for Alyx, but that same love is what drove him to risk the destruction of everything we know. Kelvadan needs to fall, to protect everyone for repeating the sins of the past.”

Keera stayed silent, but I hadn’t wanted a response anyway. I turned around and stormed toward Alza, leaving her kneeling in the bloody sand.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Keera

Icouldn’t help but watch Erix as we rode, my head swirling. A rational voice in my mind told me not to trust him. Why should I believe the words of one who had tried to kill me on several occasions? It would be to his advantage to have me join his cause.

The memories of his saber point at my throat were overshadowed though by the image him throwing himself between me and the sichat just this morning. Stronger than the feeling of cold steel at my throat was the warmth of his arms around me as he pulled me back to myself when the current of my magic threatened to pull me under.

Erix’s mare, whom I had heard him call Alza when he murmured to her under his breath, led us as we walked single file along rocky cliff face. I stared so hard at the back of his head that I imagined I could crack it open, understand the thoughts that swirled within, and know if he was trying to mislead me. How could I trust one that killed so indiscriminately for his cause that he had earned the name the Viper?

His words from earlier echoed in my head.

It’s easier to pretend there is nobody underneath the mask.

Perhaps the Viper was also a mask, one he wore to hide the truth of his motives.

So engrossed was I in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the rising swirl of dust on the horizon until Erix pulled his mount to a stop before me. I started, pulling up short as he pointed out to our left, the opposite direction of the cliff-face.

“Sandstorm. We need to find cover.”

Indeed, a wall of tan, practically solid in its density, raced over the ground toward us, swallowing the landscape whole. In unison, we kicked our horses into a gallop, searching for an alcove or cave that could protect us from the desert’s wrath.

Wind howled, beginning to pick at my clothes as the storm barreled toward us. It was less than half a mile away now, and we were running out of time. We charged on, still exposed against the rock.