Page 78 of Heart of the Desert

“Well,” Warrick huffed. “It seems that we have much to discuss. Perhaps I can convince you of my usefulness after all.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Erix

In my brief time leading the clans as the Viper, all the lords had met and discussed sitting around the low table in Lord Alasdar’s stifling tent. I supposed it was my tent at that point, but I could never see it that way. Those arguments had been full of disguised barbs and always ended with more disagreement than consensus.

While apprehension still hung thick in the air, this meeting of lords still felt different. With the encampment not yet re-erected, we were all seated cross-legged on the ground around a fire, the open sky lit with early morning light a stark contrast to the flickering lamps inside a closed-off tent. I wore no mask or gloves.

And most importantly, Keera sat at my side.

I looked around at the assembled group, and where the day before there had been the agreement of cooperation, something deeper ran now. Dhara and Elion sat among the other lords they had split with, and Aderyn was welcome in their midst as well. We had all survived the tidal wave together, and the one who had most fiercely opposed us as high lords was gone, replaced by the warlord who appeared much more easily reasoned with.

Of course, there was still the problem of General Warrick. While all the representatives of the desert seemed to at least tolerate each other’s presence, everybody glanced sidelong as he settled himself among us.

Before, he had told us he knew things we did not, and I had thought it a mere tactic spoken by a politician—but he had warned us of the wave based on knowledge we did not share with him. He could have left us to be swept away. Now, I wanted to know what other knowledge he might have, and what he meant when he referred to the youngest goddess.

“Explain what you meant when you spoke of the goddesses,” Keera started, her mind clearly taking her down the same path.

Warrick lowered his brows. “The story of the creation of the world… the three daughters of the sky?”

I tilted my head at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He huffed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “While Doran and Viltov see the world differently, we both share the tale of how the world came to be. I had thought you did too, as it accounts for the nature of your land. It is told in the oldest tomes in the libraries of both our countries, handed down for thousands of years.”

“Nothing in the desert stands for thousands of years,” Dhara pointed out.

“The palace in Kelvadan holds the oldest collection of tomes and is only two hundred years old. Although the books and scrolls contained there may be older and were carried among the clans before,” Aderyn chimed in.

“Our stories are told like this,” Izumi gestured to the way we all sat around the fire. “And we tell our own origin of the desert. How the monsters were tamed by the first person—people—to cross from the mountains to the sea and win her heart.”

“It would seem some of the oldest stories might have been lost in the days before the desert was conquered, then.” Warrick sighed. “For while I do not know the stories of how the clans came to the desert, our story tells of how it came to be such a wild wasteland in the first place.”

I pressed my lips together, wanting to chide him that the desert was not a wasteland, but not wishing to keep him from telling his tale either. “Share this story with us,” I demanded.

Warrick took a deep breath, as if stealing himself. “I’m much more accustomed to reading my stories from a book than reciting them around a fire, but I will do my best.

“The legends say that in the beginning there was only the Great Mother who rules the heavens. She was beautiful and endless and full of majesty, but she grew lonely. And so, she plucked out pieces of her mysterious expanse and shaped them into three daughters, whom she breathed life into.

“The Great Mother was no longer alone, and she had children to share in creation with her. As they grew though, they too wanted a domain to shape and care for as their mother had crafted the stars in the heavens. So, the Great Mother gifted them our world. Each daughter claimed their portion and shaped it according to the nature the Mother had given them when she unraveled her own mystery to give them life.

“The eldest daughter was solid and steadfast. And so, she shaped the land to be as solid as she was, with a strong rocky foundation. As the oldest, though, she shared a close bond with the Great Mother and found herself missing her terribly. In her homesickness, she reached up toward the sky to be closer to her, forming the mountains of Doran.

“The middle daughter was quiet and mysterious and found herself misunderstood, as many middle children are. So, she carved the earth into the mysterious deep of the ocean, where none might fully explore her endless depths.

“And the last daughter was passionate and hotheaded, full of fire and changing whims. So, she shaped a land to match her temperament—changeable and challenging. She became the desert.

“While the goddesses exist in a plane that surpasses our understanding, they still shape the world we live in according to their whims, although each in their own ways. Those in Doran who are touched by the Eldest Goddess train extensively in runes and incantations to use her power, as she respects discipline and devotion. She will grant those who serve her visions of the future. Sometimes she will send messages through her favored animal: The white wolf.

“There are tales of those in Viltov who used to call on great powers and control the ocean—even stories of those who could call an army of the dead to walk among them. But those powers have not been seen in many years. I do not know what the middle goddess desires.

“But the youngest goddess…” Warrick gestured around. “Much is unknown to both Doran and Viltov about the clans of the desert, but it is clear that the Youngest Goddess has granted some among you powers that are not understood by others.”

I breathed in sharply, wondering at this new information. While parts of it were foreign to me, many pieces still rang true. Everybody who rode the desert knew that it was alive, everybody referring to our home as “she” almost without consciously deciding to. But some had viewed the magic of the desert as a force of nature, where I always felt that it was more than that. It was not nearly so impersonal as nature—she wanted things and granted me different abilities when it suited her.

For years, I wondered if I had simply attributed so much agency to the desert as an explanation for the voices that plagued me. But perhaps I had not been so wrong.

“It is clear that we have angered this goddess,” Izumi agreed.

“And perhaps the middle daughter too if the behavior of the sea last night was any indication,” Warrick pointed out. “But how you might go about fixing it, I cannot say.”