Chapter 6 Taera
Taera
The dunes to the west draw my eyes whenever my attention slips. So I focus on getting to my brother—to the well.
I follow the road, the sandy dirt shimmering red and gold in the last of the light.
The back of my neck prickles beneath my sandscarf.
I glance over my shoulder, but no one else is foolish enough to be outside so close to dusk.
Only wind-gnarled shrubs and sparse trees stare back at me.
Every hut is shut and shuttered. I shove my baseless fears out of my mind, lest the desert summon them right out of my imagination.
The village used to be roughly circular in the years before the desert expanded, but I only remember it as it is now: a thin crescent clinging to the edge of the line. Fortunately, the trees grow a little better near the center.
It only takes a couple minutes to reach the heart of the village, but those minutes stretch like the shadows. Shivers creep up my spine, held in check by my growing anger at my brother’s recklessness.
Dusk is at my heels by the time I step around the corner to the well. But there’s no one there. I blink, scanning the huts nearby. Did he decide to visit a friend right before sundown? I choke out an incredulous laugh.
I stride to the closest wind-worn hut: the home of another troublemaker, his friend Maton. I pound on the thick oak door. Inside, the rumble of conversation goes quiet.
“Who’s there?” a deep voice, Maton’s father, calls out.
“It’s Taera,” I reply. “I’m looking for Ez.”
Silence. Then, “He’s not here.”
Dread seeps in. If he’s not here, and he isn’t along the main road…
Slowly, I turn to the west.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
But there’s no other way home except the shortcut. The tides aren’t even low. I curse Ezran’s temporary insanity.
My jaw tightens, but I start along the thin trail that traces the line of high tide markers. The sand isn’t much lower. Magic buzzes on my tongue, thrums through my chest, as I jog along the path, not trusting myself.
“Taera,” the wind murmurs, followed by a tumble of mutterings that sends a cascade of tingles through me.
It’s never called my name before.
The dunes steal my attention, my gaze. The last dregs of sunset lick up the sides of their rusty-orange peaks, and an ache of longing knots in my chest—the intensity of it taking my breath away.
Don’t.
My steps falter. I’ve turned toward the desert. I’m stepping forward, closing several of the dozen paces separating me from the cursed expanse.
Why—
Ezran. I need to find Ezran.
A violent shudder ripples through me, and I wrench my eyes back to the path.
Fresh footsteps scatter the sand, and some of the tension in my neck loosens. My tongue is already forming sharp words to unleash at Ezran as I track his lopsided footsteps. But then his trail twists into a confusing echo of motion. I risk a glance up.
I see him.
And freeze.
I desperately hope the desert is deceiving me this time. Because a giant sand puma doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
Ezran stands on the path only a few paces ahead, stiff as a pillar. Blocking his way is a figure in sleek fluttering gray robes. Robes I’ve only heard murmured about in cautionary tales, but there’s no mistaking them.
The robes of a mage.
Terror grips my throat and wipes my mind blank. My legs lock. This can’t be happening. Mages belong in folktales and nightmares, or in the far-off big city on the rare occasion.
Not here.
Not in our village.
The monster’s hood drapes low over his face, hiding everything but the curl of his sneer. Panic pins my lungs and I can’t pull in a full breath.
“Please, desert, please…” Ezran whispers.
His head is twisted to the side, just enough for me to see that his tan skin has turned gray. His eyes are clenched shut. Even through the terror thrumming in my skull, the truth clicks into place, and a flicker of pride warms me.
Never look at one of them.
Against every instinct, I force my own eyes closed. My pounding heart becomes deafening, every muscle in me screaming to look at the danger. But only the desert can save us now. It takes every grain of willpower to listen, past the desert’s urgent whispers, to what the mage is saying.
“You’re coming with me.” The mage’s voice is as abrasive as sand. My stomach drops.
Ezran.
It’s like what happened to Mom. Like every nightmare I told myself—told Ezran—would never happen.
My brother whimpers. My eyes fly open and I see the mage leaning toward him.
“No!” I lurch forward on shaky legs, stumbling as I snatch Ezran’s hand and yank him away. The mage snarls and snaps his head toward me.
I freeze. But I have to get Ezran out of here, even if the desert damns me for it.
“You’re not taking him.” My heart skitters like a trapped rabbit as I stand off against the monster. The wind cools the sweat on my neck, but I hold my ground.
“Taera?” Ezran’s voice shreds into a terrified sob. His fingers clutch mine like a panicked child.
“It’s me, Ez.” I try to come up with more reassurance but fail. We both know we’re not making it home.
“Get out of my way,” the mage snarls. My legs wobble, but I channel the heart of my hatred—every painful scrap the desert has ever torn from me—and square myself between him and my brother.
“Ez, get out of here,” I bark. “Now.”
His clammy hand tightens around mine. “I won’t leave you.”
“Go.” I rip my hand free. “Find Gramps. Bar the door. You know what to do.”
“But, Taera—”
“Get out of here! For once in your life, bloody listen!”
Ezran flinches like I’ve struck him. Then he stumbles and lurches into a half-limp of a run. Thank the desert.
The mage bares his teeth. A raw, visceral fear for my life rakes through me.
Ezran’s heavy, lopsided footsteps thud behind me, a reminder he’s still in danger. I calm myself because I have to. Shielding Ezran from view. If I can give my brother a sliver of time… the sliver might be enough.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the mage growls, and my insides turn liquid. These gray robes are going to be the last thing I ever see. But if fear cracks me open now, Ezran won’t make it home. That’s the truth that keeps my legs from giving out.
“Damned nuisance,” the mage snarls. He flicks his fingers.
White hot agony ignites within me. Flames burst from the air, licking up my arms, searing my skin.
A scream rips loose, and I clap a burning hand over my mouth.
I can’t let Ezran hear me. If he does, he’ll turn back.
Ash clogs my throat. My hair singes to putrid nothingness as my clothes burn and my skin blackens.
The mage’s fire consumes me.
I must be dying. There’s no other name for this. My mind screams for the relief of oblivion, for the same dark that took Mom. With my last flicker of consciousness, I fling a desperate prayer to the desert: Take me if you must, just let him live.
“Let her go.”
The voice is melodic, male, cutting through even the whispers.
The flames vanish.
Cool night air crashes into my lungs, so sharp it hurts. I stare at my palms. My skin is completely untouched.
The gulf between what I felt and what I see makes my head reel.
Spinning around, I see him. A second mage, robed in brilliant blue, his blazing, unnaturally green eyes fixed on me from beneath his hood.
Not one mage.
Two.
The world tilts; black edges my vision. I almost go down.
“Hand over the relics and you can have her,” the gray mage snarls at the blue.
Have me? Are they bartering for me?
Anger simmers in my chest, held tightly in check by my terror. I don’t know which mage I’m hoping will win this argument: they’re both monsters. But their confrontation gives Ezran precious seconds. I hold completely still, trying to fade into the dusk.
“I can’t do that,” the blue mage replies. His voice is liquid honey, raising the hairs on my arms and mesmerizing me even while my mind screams to run.
I stay put. I can’t risk leading them after Ezran.
“Perhaps you’ll change your answer after I devour the source.” The gray mage sneers. “He was surprisingly well hidden.”
My blood chills. He? If they’re talking about Ezran, I swear on the sands—I’ll tear this monster apart with my bare hands.
The earth rumbles beneath my feet, knocking me off balance.
The gray mage lets out a warped howl—half human, half something far worse.
His skin balloons, stretching grotesquely.
Fur erupts across his cheeks and jaw, tearing through fabric and flesh alike.
His arms curve inward, cracking into limbs too long to be human, ending in shining black claws.
He swells—doubles, triples—in height, spine bowing into the monstrous outline of a jackal. Its slick black eyes bulge obscenely from its skull, fixing on the blue mage with a hunger that freezes every part of me in place.
The hulking predator pounces toward the blue mage. But those vicious claws never impale their target; the blue mage vanishes and reappears a step to the right.
I gape. My eyes refuse to believe what I’m seeing. I know mages exist the way I know oceans exist: somewhere. I’ve never actually witnessed magic wielded by a human… or by a monstrous desert dog.
“Nice of you to find me a snack.” The beast’s voice is eerily human.
“You will not touch him,” the blue mage says with such ferocity that I half expect the beast to cower. Instead, the jackal snarls, low and throaty with a yellow tongue lolling.
I’m breathless as I watch. And I’ve changed my mind: I want the blue mage to win.
The jackal lunges.
The blue mage splits in two.
I blink. Hard. There are two figures of billowing blue—now four—each peeling away from the spot where the collision should have happened. Definitely four blue mages. Pain snaps my skull as I try to reconcile the impossible scene, my gaze darting uselessly back and forth.
The jackal snaps its jaw around one of the blue figures with a sickening crunch, sending a burst of yellow sparks in a violent spray. I flinch, raising a hand to shield myself, but embers pepper my shoulder and forearm, each one pricking like a needle. I gasp, inhaling a whiff of burnt hair.
My sudden movement frees my limbs. I remember my feet. Can I still escape?
I take a step back.
Another.
On my third step, the jackal pauses mid-bite and swivels toward me. Every drop of blood drains from my face.
“That’s right.” It cocks its head to the side. “You should be afraid.”
Then it lunges.
Except, it isn’t charging at me.
It’s aiming past me.
Going after my brother.
In a burst of sheer, stupid, desperate instinct, I hurl myself into the beast’s path, hands flying up in front of my face.
Rank, rotten breath scorches my skin and everything erupts into blinding white light.