Page 89 of Blood of the Sands

Erix looked over at me from Alza’s back, remaining quiet for a moment—so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer me.

“I don’t understand it,” he admitted quietly.

I swallowed thickly. “When I started training with the Kelvadan riders, and Aderyn taught me the saber forms, it was as if my body already knew them. I improved as a saber fighter far faster than I had any right to.”

I watched Erix carefully as I spoke, but his only visible reaction was the tightening of his fists where they rested on Alza’s shoulders. My face momentarily heated at the memory of how he had licked every trace of me off the fingers of his gloves after touching me. I shook that off in favor of continuing to prod him.

“I think you awoke more than magic in me when you touched me for the first time.”

“Let’s hope for the sake of the desert that I didn’t.”

Before I could ask what he meant, a sharp whinny that didn’t come from either Alza or Daiti split the air. My head snapped toward the horizon where a lone rider stood, waving both arms in the air to get our attention.

Erix and I both urged our mounts into a canter toward the figure. While my hand inched toward the hilt of the dagger in my belt, it seemed unlikely that we would be greeted in such a way by an enemy. After all, the stranger drew no weapon as we approached. Erix seemed to have similar thoughts, his posture alert but not combative.

“Are you of Clan Otush?” Erix asked once we were within earshot.

The man hesitated upon seeing Erix, shying back a bit at the sight of the metal mask. He had clearly heard the tales of the Viper, but the desperation in his gaze was clear as he asked, “Have you come to help us?”

“Your rider told us of the lava wyrm. We have come to face it,” I responded.

The man looked dismayed. “Only two of you?”

“It will be enough,” Erix stated, and his tone brooked no argument.

The rider’s expression revealed that he was still unsure, but he nodded anyway. “I’ll take you to our encampment, and we can tell you what we know of the creature.”

We followed him over the next rise, after which the close drawn tents of Clan Otush came into view.

“I thought Clan Otush had joined with Clans Padra, Tibel, Vecturna, and Jal to camp together,” Erix asked. I glanced at him sidelong as we rode.

“We had united to resist…” The man shot a glance at Erix and reconsidered. “We had banded together for a time, but game became too scarce in any one area to feed all the clans. We split up to cover more territory, hoping to ward off famine but not overhunting any one stretch.”

My mouth grew dry at the mention of famine. While the desert was harsh, it teemed with life if one knew where to look. Now, it seemed to be withering if even clans with capable hunters struggled to feed their own. I thought of what Erix had said about the missing Heart and frowned. Even more, most of the texts in the private collection of the Royal Library—texts collected by Kelvar—had focused on the first crossing of the desert and how it won the Lord the Heart of the Desert.

The rider of Clan Otush led us toward his encampment. As we crossed the dry and cracked earth, our mounts picked their way around strange formations of black rock. They looked bubbled and warped, unlike any stone I had seen shaped by the relentless forces of nature. I frowned as Daiti skirted a large patch almost as big as he was. The clansman said nothing, but his expression was grim.

Drawing closer to the encampment, the root of his desperation was clear. Where encampments normally teemed with life—the laughter of children and the barking of hunting dogs—this one frayed at the seams. Tents bore signs of fire and violence, some with obviously patched rips and others sporting blackened char marks on their canvas. The few children in sight were held tightly by their parents so they couldn’t run off, and there didn’t seem to be enough horses in the enclosures for the number of people.

We headed for the center of the encampment, faces appearing from behind tent flaps to look at us as we passed, expressions equal parts hopeful and apprehensive.

When we reached the grandest tent, our escort dismounted, shouting, “Lord Dhara!”

In a matter of moments, the tent flap opened, revealing a woman armed to the teeth with a hard glint in her eye. A bow and full quiver of arrows were thrown over her shoulder while a row of curved daggers lined her belt. A gold ring glittered in one nostril, almost as brightly as her keen eyes as she took us in.

“They’ve come to face the lava wyrm,” our escort declared, tapping his knuckles to his forehead as he bowed to his clan’s lord. I echoed the gesture from where I still sat astride Daiti, but Erix made no such movement.

“Does Lord Alasdar’s pet snake come to save us or to threaten us?” The lord crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. “We told you, our clan would not be threatened into bowing to Clan Katal.”

“You struck a deal that you would join our cause if I was victorious in the Trials, and I have returned to you as Champion of the Desert,” Erix announced, loud enough that all those in the small crowd that had gathered around the clearing could hear.

“You do not wear the Champion’s circlet,” Lord Dhara pointed out.

“Your rider reached us with news of your plight before he could be crowned,” I found myself volunteering before I could think better of it. I bit my tongue hard enough to taste copper in my mouth. Erix looked at me sharply.

“Is this true?”

“It should not matter if I wear the Champion’s circlet or not,” Erix countered. “If lava wyrms rise again, you must see the wisdom in uniting the tribes to restore the desert. She tears herself apart at the seams because of the sins of Kelvadan. We must fight together to save our home.”