Page 4 of Crown of the Dunes

“I know,” I murmured. “I miss her too.”

For a moment, it was almost as if I could smell Keera’s hair—sunshine and warm skin that calmed the pulsing power within me.

I considered grooming Daiti, even though his coat was already spotless. I itched to care for Keera, but in her absence, tending to her mount was the next best thing. A voice drew me from my reverie before I could fetch a brush.

“My Lord Viper, you’re needed in the meeting tent.”

I sighed and walked to the edge of the enclosure. “I told you not to call me that, Izumi.”

My second-in-command put her hands on her hips. “You’re the Lord of Clan Katal now. It would be disrespectful to call you anything else.”

“I still don’t like the title,” I grunted as I levered myself over the fence and out of the enclosure. Even the name Viper was starting to chafe these days, but I didn’t admit that to my warlord. If I were to shed the mantle, I would have to offer an alternative, and I had none I was willing to share with my riders. Only one person lived who called me Erix, and with every day without her, the identity slipped further from me.

So, I wore the title of Viper, just like I had continued to don my mask and gloves every morning. The clans had united behind the Viper, and he could not abandon them. Besides, their combined power would give me the strength needed to breach the walls of Kelvadan.

“What do they want now?” I asked, leading the way from the perimeter of the camp to the tallest tent in the center, the snake-emblazoned banner of Clan Katal snapping in the wind at its peak.

“The same thing they want every day. A way off this plateau. Fresh sources of food and water. To plan the siege on Kelvadan.”

I bared my teeth behind my mask. “I don’t know why they require my presence to talk in circles.”

Izumi shot me a hard look, her eyes as sharp as ever. “You are the leader of the combined clans now. They need your guidance.”

I bit back a growl, the retort that I had only ever meant to be a weapon, not a leader, heavy on my tongue. It was another one of the daily routines that only ever took us in circles.

Despite my discontented silence, Izumi must have sensed what I wanted to say. She grabbed my forearm, stopping me in my tracks and turning me to look at her. I yanked from her grasp and stared down at her. She narrowed her upturned eyes at me, and they glittered against her tawny complexion.

“You can’t show any weakness now,” she said, her voice firm but low enough not to be overheard in the hubbub of a busy encampment. “Food is running critically low, and already the first of the wells are beginning to dry up. Strength is the only thing the other lords respect. If you can’t show them that, you won’t be able to prevent infighting.”

The words fell heavy in my stomach like rocks, weights of responsibility and dread in equal measure. I turned my head, staring up at the sigil of Clan Katal, the snake that was my namesake seeming to slither with the rippling of the banner.

“If you can’t keep the clans united, our chances of defeating Kelvadan are slim—as are our chances of giving the desert what she wants and winning her favor,” Izumi pushed on.

My gaze snapped back down to her, and the look she gave me was a challenge. In the immediate aftermath of the battle with the riders of Kelvadan, Izumi had vouched for me as Lord Alasdar’s successor, pointing to my victory in saving the encampment from the surprise attack. It had shocked me, given that Izumi had often treated me as a competitor for Lord Alasdar’s favor. But the Lord Dhara of Clan Otush had quickly backed my claim, telling the others how I had come to their aid against the lava wyrm. It had been enough to turn the protests of Lord Cahir and Lord Nathaira into discontented grumblings.

It was then I saw Izumi’s actions for what they were: an opportunity. With my claim to the title of Champion—incomplete as it was, given that I hadn’t been crowned—and that several clans were much less reluctant to follow me than they had been Lord Alasdar, this was our chance to raze Kelvadan.

I interpreted the meaning in Izumi’s words now clearly: If I didn’t lead the clans in their march on Kelvadan, I would be replaced by somebody who would.

Without another word, I turned and strode into the tent where the eight other lords waited for me. I blinked, my eyes taking a second to adjust to the dim light while Izumi pushed through the flap behind me.

The lords sat on cushions around a low table in the center of the room, the floor still covered by the lush, ostentatious mess of overlapping rugs. I had done nothing to change the tent that had belonged to Clan Katal’s former leader, besides designating it as the place where official business was to be discussed.

As the new lord, it was my right to claim the largest structure as my own dwelling. But every night, I still retired to my own barren shelter on the fringes of the encampment near the horses. I would find no rest in this space—not that I slept much these days anyway—and my gaze flicked to the far corner as I remembered why. The pile of pillows there had been replaced, the blood-stained ones taken away, but it was the last place I had seen Keera.

The memory of her cracked and bleeding lips telling me she loved me was enough to make my magic flare forcefully. The flames in the lanterns around the tabled doubled in size for a moment, before returning to their contained glow. The eight figures around the table exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from impressed to carefully schooled fear.

“What word from your clans?” I asked, settling myself on the last of the cushions. Izumi stepped up behind me, crossing her arms over her chest and taking the traditional place of a clan’s warlord. I tried not to fidget as I crossed my legs, wishing I was standing as well. The spot taken by Izumi had been mine under Lord Alasdar’s leadership, and sitting in his spot gave me the impression of ill-fitting clothes.

I scratched at the still healing handprint on my chest, burned into place by my mentor and jailer.

“None, and that is the problem,” Lord Cahir of Clan Miran started. He was always one of the most vocal in these endless meetings. “We have done nothing but ration food and wait for weeks.”

“I continue to look for a way to cross the chasm,” I said, unable to keep my annoyance from seeping into my tone. It was all I could do to keep from lashing out—from drawing my sword and rushing out of the tent to fight some unseen foe.

“And yet you have nothing to show for it.” It was Lord Nathaira who spoke now, derision seeping into her voice. A pin bearing the scorpion sigil of Clan Padra glittered near her collarbone where it held her maroon hood in place. “Kelvadan’s forces would have been weakened by their loss, but instead of pushing the advantage, we have been forced to languish here while they regroup and replenish. The desert’s anger at our failure hangs thick in the air.”

I bared my teeth behind my mask, but another voice chimed in before I could respond.