Page 3 of The Healer and the Warlord

My eyes widened, and once again I tried twisting to see him to no avail. His mount stamped and snorted at my movements, but this time, it was not enough to quell my struggles. Tales of Clan Katal’s Warlord had spread across the Ballan Desert like fire through brush. Stories of the storms he could summon and the immense power that let him wield fire like a sword—not that he needed to. His skill with a saber was said to be nearly unmatched as well. Only the strongest Lords could stand against him in a duel.

The last time we crossed paths with Clan Noc, my father and the other Clan Lord had bent together, worrying in hushed whispers about the growing power of Clan Katal, borne by the strength of their Warlord.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he said, seemingly unperturbed as I nearly unseated both of us in my efforts to turn around. “I had hoped to let you ride properly, but if you are going to insist on continuing to upset Dileas, I’ll be forced to tie your hands and throw you over her haunches with my bundles.”

I stopped squirming. “Dileas… is that your mount?”

“The finest horse in the Ballan Desert,” he confirmed.

I pursed my lips, tempted to argue that title belonged to my own stallion, likely now miles behind us in Clan Padra’s enclosures. Instead, I said, “A loyal mount to earn such a noble name.”

Carefully, I let a small tendril of the desert’s magic that grew gently in my mind unfurl, reaching into the consciousness of the horse beneath me. Instantly the mare calmed, and she shook her head and flicked her ears back at me as if to say hello.

I almost smiled despite the direness of my situation. I let my power stroke her mind reassuringly as her gait evened out, only to jolt as I encountered another lick of magic. This power was not the friendly warmth of horses I was used to. It was potent and intoxicating—the crackle of lightning and the siren call of the endless horizon. I could almost smell the metallic warmth that always accompanied magic as I mentally approached.

I reached out to touch it too, utterly unthinking but called in by the inexorable power.

Kelvar flinched behind me, and my magic snapped back into my skull of its own accord.

“Sands,” he swore, sitting back and bringing his horse to a halt.

Before I could register what had happened, his hold disappeared from around me, and his solid warmth at my back was gone. A moment later, he stood on the ground at my side, and I got my first good look at Kelvar, Warlord of Clan Katal.

The dark hair I had caught a glimpse of earlier was pulled up into a knot at the back of his head, although part of it still spilled down his neck, and tendrils fell forward to frame his face. His features were proud, his jaw strong. He was much younger than I’d expected for someone of his reputation, but what struck me the most were his dark eyes, currently wide with surprise.

I stared into them, dumbstruck for a long moment. Then, he broke eye contact, shaking himself, as if he had been doused in cold water.

“Do you make a habit of reaching into other people’s minds uninvited?” he demanded. Up until this point, his voice had been light. I would have almost called it friendly, if it weren’t for the fact he had kidnapped me. Now it was rough but not quite angry.

My shoulders tensed as I shrank back, realizing what I had done. I should have known his power, great as it was rumored to be, would have been intertwined in his own mount’s mind. I had unwittingly run my mental fingers over his own consciousness in my quest to befriend his horse.

“It was an accident,” I insisted. It did not seem wise to anger my kidnapper, but I had been reckless.

“That was a lot of the desert’s magic in my mind for an accident,” he pointed out.

I swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.” My voice was thin.

I should have known better than to reach out so carelessly. My father always warned me against the dangers of my power—of the untamed desert. It made him protective and fearful in equal measures.

Kelvar blinked, and then his shoulders relaxed from their tense posture, although I sensed it took him great concentration. The stricken expression he wore melted into a confident smirk, seeming both practiced and charming.

“It’s fine,” he conceded. “Given that I’m the one who kidnapped you, it feels odd for you to be apologizing to me. You know, I don’t even know your name.”

“Alyx,” I offered, glad I had not overly angered my captor in my indiscretion.

“Well, Alyx”—he said my name gently—“it’s time I let Dileas rest anyway.”

He reached up toward me as if to help me down from his mare’s back, but I ignored the outstretched hand. Instead, I swung my leg over and jumped down unaided, landing lightly on my feet before him.

He blinked as I stared up at him, finding him almost an entire head taller than me now that we stood face-to-face. Then he shrugged and walked around to stand at Dileas’s head, patting her nose and murmuring to her in a low tone I could not discern. The mare responded by bumping her head into his torso affectionately.

I took advantage of the first reprieve I’d had from my captor since my uncomfortable awakening, looking around. Endless golden sand stretched in every direction, offering no sign of where we had come from or where we were going. Even if I managed to escape from my kidnapper, I would not make it far on foot without any supplies. Kelvar likely knew it as well if he was willing to let me stand here, unbound and unguarded.

I chewed my lips, finding them already dry and chapped, not an uncommon plight in the dry heat of the desert. Kelvar had not been openly hostile to me. In fact, he had been strangely kind, apart from when I had unknowingly shoved my magical fingers into his own power. But my parents’ worried faces hovered in my mind.

They had always warned me that the desert’s power, burning so brightly in me, would make me a target. I did not know what the Warlord planned for me, but I doubted it would be good.

I glanced down at myself and winced, finding I still wore the thin shift I had gone to sleep in and nothing more. I didn’t even have shoes on, and my bare toes dug into the sand, already hot underfoot in the morning sun. There was nothing on my person I could use to my advantage.