Page 75 of Heart of the Desert

Warrick huffed impatiently. “We can traverse the seas, but even I cannot command the ocean. This is no normal tide.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and the prickling on the back of my neck intensified. Calix had told me how his people used to command the ocean, but the power had been lost. Perhaps it was a lie—perhaps they were in league with each other.

Warrick threw up his hands in frustration. “If watching your people die is the only way I can convince you I do not lie, then so be it. But my men and I are moving, and you should tell your people to as well if you truly wish to protect them.”

Without waiting for us to respond, he ran back toward his men. Already, the camp was broken down, and they were hauling their beached boats up the sand and away from the water. Erix and I exchanged a glance, and matching pulses of resolve echoed down the tether between us.

We had endured too much of the fury of nature to take this threat idly.

Hurriedly, we gathered up our belongings and ran toward the center of the encampment where the lords tents were circled.

“Izumi, Dhara!” I shouted as we sprinted into the circle and stopped next to the vacant tent erected for us. “Lords of the Clans!”

Tent flaps rustled as they emerged, responding to the urgency in my voice.

“We must move the encampment immediately,” I demanded as soon as they appeared. Notably, Nathaira was the last to appear, folding her arms and looking quizzical.

“Why?” Izumi questioned, not hostile but seemingly confused.

“The ocean…” I drifted off, trying to explain what was happening when I hardly understood it myself. Sandstorms and monsters and lightning, I understood, but the power of so much water was foreign to me. And so, I was forced to trust the word of a man who had betrayed me in the past.

“A great wave is coming,” Erix declared. “Warrick and his men have seen it before, and they said it could destroy all of us. He and his forces are already retreating.”

Izumi’s brows shot up. “You don’t trust Warrick.”

“I’m not willing to gamble the lives of our people on that distrust,” I admitted. A bare moment of silence stretched, each of the lords teetering on the edge of action. This afternoon, they had pledged to follow us, but this was the first test—the first time Erix and I asked them to follow us. Lords of the Ballan Desert did not often take orders.

“Wake the riders,” Izumi broke the silence and barked at Badha, who had appeared at her side. “Loose the horses and heard them up the beach. Have everybody grab as many supplies as they can and follow the men from Doran away from the ocean. Leave behind anything they cannot carry.”

All at once, the other lords sprang into action. With no people of their own to command, Elion and Dhara jumped in and began untying knots that would disassemble tents. I didn’t miss the way Nathaira waited a few moments before stalking off with a few whispered words to her warlord. I didn’t have time to give it much thought as the encampment erupted into a flurry of activity.

As lively and crowded as the better parts of five clans camped together had been, the city of canvas began collapsing around us at breakneck speed. The clans had adapted to the ever-changing landscape by making their lives equally transient and portable. Home was wherever their horses took them, and it could be disassembled in the blink of an eye.

The thought of horses had my spine straightening. “Help the riders retreat into the dunes,” I told Erix. “I’ll go help with the horse enclosures nearest the ocean.”

He nodded. For the barest moment, his fingers intertwined with mine and he squeezed. I clutched him back, and I knew he understood. We would both do whatever it took to save the people of the desert.

Then he was off, his voice loud and sure as he directed people in the cacophony. After all, he had been a warlord in a large clan for many years.

I turned and dashed toward the horse enclosures at the outskirts of the encampment, close to the edge of the sea—the ones where we had left Daiti and Alza with bunches of dried arrowgrass. Already, several riders were beginning to pull down the fences and tried to usher the horses out, encouraging them to retreat up the hill. Many of them resisted though, unnerved by the sudden quiet after the incessant crashing of waves—unnerved by the strange smell that filled the air as sand that was usually the bottom of the ocean was revealed.

As I reached the panels of moveable fence that ringed the paddock, ready to help, a silhouette on the beach caught my eye.

My stomach turned to lead.

Nathaira.

I approached her with hurried steps. “You must order your people to retreat.”

She looked over her shoulder at me. “I see no reason to turn and run. I have weathered many storms with my people.”

The bitter taste of frustration mixed with fear coated my tongue. “This is a storm we don’t understand and can’t fight,” I insisted.

She leaned in close and hissed in a voice that her clansmen, attempting to wrangle the horses nearby, could not hear. “I have fought against powers I myself do not wield, and I have never lost. The key to lasting strength is never being perceived as weak. I will not surrender to you twice in one day.”

“You agreed to follow Erix and me if I bested you, and you only live because I do not waste the blood of a warrior when battle looms on the horizon.” I did not quiet my voice, speaking loudly enough that any of the people nearby could hear.

“Winning a duel does not mean you know everything. We have weathered many storms, and we do not need to abandon scarce supplies based on your fears.” Now, Nathaira’s voice projected with all the confident assurance of one used to being obeyed. She gestured behind her, and I followed where she pointed. Members of the other clans hurriedly grabbed what they could from the supply tents on the fringes of the encampment, but they were only able to carry lighter bags of food. The heavy water barrels would be left behind—and fresh water was nearly more valuable than blood in the desert.