Twelve
The rest of the journey through the Dead Lands was relatively quiet. We saw a few statues standing among the petrified trees,
thankfully unanimated. When night fell, we pressed on, eager to reach the border of the mountains and get out of the Dead
Lands. I did catch a glimpse of one headless statue, glowing pale in the moonlight, shambling aimlessly through the trees.
Raithe’s arms had tightened around my waist as the statue stumbled over the ground. But it was too far away to notice us,
and we moved on as silently as we could.
At last, as Solasti poked her head over the horizon and spilled her light onto a lifeless world, we reached the foot of the
mountains surrounding the valley. The stony peaks soared overhead, barren and treacherous, but I had never been so happy at
the prospect of climbing them. They were the stairway to getting out of the Dead Lands and away from vengeful spirits and
the terrifying living statues they possessed.
Sitting behind Kysa, Halek sighed as he tipped his head back, letting the sunlight wash over his face.
“Well, I’ll be honest, I’ve never been so happy to leave a place,” he said.
“I can usually find one redeeming thing about most places I’ve been, even towns like Tahveena or Daggerpoint, where you’re as likely to get your purse cut in an alley as an infestation of sand fleas in your bed.
At least the Daggerpoint thieves are beautiful night walkers.
But the Dead Lands?” He shook his head. “Nothing redeemable about them. Not a single thing. Well, all right, maybe the lovely petrified forest that doesn’t ever .
. . No, no, I can’t even take a positive approach to that.
This place is awful.” He glanced at Raithe and grimaced. “No offense, kahjai.”
I sensed Raithe smile behind me. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Fatechaser.” He sighed. “The Dead Lands have always been
dangerous, but now they’re nearly unpassable. If we do make it back to Irrikah, I’ll have to inform the queen.”
“You don’t think she already knows?” Kysa asked, and her voice was a challenge. “The Deathless queen, who has been living
here for millennia, is unaware of what happens in the ruins of her old kingdom? These are her lands, after all, and she was
alive when the cataclysm originally happened. Why would she decide to keep this from her people? Why would she not tell them
that the Deathless who created the Dead Lands and nearly wiped her people out has returned?”
“I . . . don’t know.” It was the second time I’d heard Raithe sound so uncharacteristically uncertain, and I glanced back
at him. “But if the queen has chosen to keep the truth of the Dead Lands from us, there is a reason for it.” He shrugged,
though his voice was still hesitant. “The queen has always had her secrets. There are things that she knows, things that she
has discovered in the long years of her existence, that she can’t—or won’t—tell the rest of us. The iylvahn understand that,
and we don’t question it.”
Kysa narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you should.”
“It’s not my place.” This time, Raithe’s voice had a hint of an edge to it. “I am one iylvahn in a nation that was nearly wiped to extinction but for the intervention of the queen. I am valuable to the nation because of the skills I possess. My voice . . . doesn’t matter.”
“It should, kahjai.” Kysa did not back down. “Of course it should. A true leader understands that every voice is important.
Every voice should be heard. Even the ones they don’t agree with. Otherwise, their rule lurches straight into tyranny.”
Raithe sighed. “I’m not going to argue with you, insect rider,” he said, and the edge had faded from his voice. “I know what
the Scarab Clan think of the Deathless, and I know what you think of the queen. But the iylvahn have survived this way for
thousands of your human years. Irrikah has seen nations rise and fall, kingdoms crumble, and rulers continuously war for power.
All the while, we iylvahn have remained safe and isolated, with a queen who does not ask much of her people. Only that they
keep her secrets and contribute a small bit of their life when it is needed to sustain her power.”
I could practically feel Kysa bristling like an angry sand cat at the last statement. Apparently, Raithe could as well. “It’s
a sacrifice we willingly accept as a nation,” he went on before she could speak. “Every iylvahn understands who and what the
queen is, and why she has to keep the kingdom hidden from the rest of the world. If the other kingdoms knew that a Deathless
still lived—those who still remember the ancient tales, anyway—our peaceful existence would end. People would fear the rising
of another Deathless to take over the world.”
“And in a few months, perhaps even a few days, their fears will be completely justified,” Kysa said ruthlessly. “Because there is a Deathless rising to conquer the world. What will your queen do if we cannot stop him? Will she take her people and vanish
again? Or will she fight, and between them turn the world into a wasteland that is even worse?”
“I don’t know, Kysa.” Raithe sounded weary. He slumped against my back. “I don’t know.”
I put my hand over his and squeezed gently, and his arm tightened around me in return. “I wish I could answer your questions,”
he continued, “but I know about as much as the rest of you. I would think the queen is trying to prevent the scenario you
speak of by sending the Fateless to find Maederyss’s loom, but I do not know her mind or her intentions. Only that she wishes
to stop the Deathless King, because if he rises to full power, no army or nation or even another Deathless will be able to
stand against him.”
“Except the Fateless,” Halek added, causing my stomach, which had already become uncomfortably tight during Raithe and Kysa’s
argument, to roil wildly.
“Yes,” Raithe almost whispered. I felt his heartbeat quicken against my back, felt him draw in a furtive breath. “Except the
Fateless.”
“Well, then I suppose we should get the Fateless where she needs to be, don’t you think?” Halek was apparently not enjoying
the conversation between Raithe and Kysa either. I was relieved when Kysa let out a small sigh and nodded.
“You are not subtle, Fatechaser, but yes.” Kysa shot Halek a look of amused exasperation. “I suppose we should. How do we leave this place, iylvahn?”
“There’s a path that will take us through the mountains,” Raithe said, his voice carefully neutral. “I’m not sure exactly
where it is, but it should be close.”
We did find the path eventually: a narrow, hard-to-see trail that snaked up the side of the mountain, barely wide enough for
the rock beetles to traverse. Rhyne and Ratuk walked single file, their jointed legs sending small stones and pebbles bouncing
down the side of the mountain, while I sat rigid in the saddle and tried to ignore the sheer drop on my left. If Ratuk lost
his footing, there would be no flying to save us. I would certainly be squashed like a rotten plum under the enormous bulk
of a rock beetle rolling down the mountainside.
Thankfully, despite their size and bulk, rock beetles were quite surefooted, with six legs that kept them grounded on even
the narrowest of paths. So, after a day of travel and taking shelter beneath a convenient overhang during Demon Hour, we reached
the rim of the mountains. And I saw what lay on the other side.
My stomach dropped. An endless expanse of pale sand stretched away before us, all the way to the horizon.
The dunes seemed eternal, reminding me of the infinite waves of the Dust Sea.
I remembered the first time I had seen the Barren Steppes, Kysa’s homeland.
At first, the land had seemed empty and lifeless, hard-packed clay with rocky outcroppings and little vegetation scattered throughout.
But life existed in the Barren Steppes; the various clans of insect riders had carved out their territories there.
Flocks of stonebeak birds and giant scorpions roamed the wasteland, searching for rare but vital oases in the middle of the scorched plateau.
This desert truly seemed barren. There were no trees, no rocks, no bushes. Nothing but sand as far as the eye could see. If
life did exist out here, it was beyond my ability to comprehend how.
Behind me, Raithe blew out a quiet breath. “The Shifting Dunes,” he murmured. “Also called the Desert of Bones by some. This
is farther than any iylvahn has traveled. Any who still live, that is. Somewhere beyond the sands is the World Scar. The place
where the piece of Maederyss’s loom fell to the earth.”
Atop Rhyne, Halek straightened. “Wait, this is the Desert of Bones?” He stared at Raithe. “You didn’t mention that before,
iylvahn.”
“Apologies, Fatechaser,” Raithe said, raising a brow at him. “I didn’t realize you knew the legend. Not many people do.”
“Didn’t know about it? I think I’m offended.” Halek sniffed, not sounding the least bit upset. “Have we even met, iylvahn?
When have I not known about obscure, ancient legends? Clearly, I need to regale you with more completely useless ancient trivia.”
“Why is it called the Desert of Bones?” I asked. There were no bones that I could see, just endless dunes and empty sand.
“Because this used to be a vast civilization,” Halek answered, as if to prove to Raithe that he knew exactly where we were.
“According to some very old tales, there was a city here once. A long, long time ago, even before the era of the Deathless Kings. What happened to it, how it fell, no one really knows. But buried beneath the sands are the ruins of an ancient civilization, along with the bones of everyone who lived there. Legends say that they still wander the desert sometimes, and if you see a lone figure out on the dunes, just keep walking, lest you suddenly find yourself buried in the sands with the rest of them for eternity.”
“Oh, more spirits, that’s something I wanted to hear.” I shivered and looked back at the eternal sea of sand. “How are we