Chapter 2
The clay pitcher sweated in my hands as I poured a stream of chilled water into three deep bronze cups.
Outside, the midday sun baked the crimson canyon walls into a haze of rising heat waves, but inside the summit sanctuary, the air felt like a different world.
Massive sandstone blocks, cut thick from the living mountain and shaded by high overhanging cliffs, trapped the chill of the desert nights.
No dust reached us here. Only the quiet drip of an underground spring echoing against smooth, vaulted ceilings and the faint, cool draft flowing through high arched windows.
I pressed the rim of the cold metal cup against my lower lip, letting the chill sting my skin before taking a long, greedy swallow.
My leg muscles still shook from the final vertical climb, and my heels burned where the leather straps of my sandals had rubbed my skin raw.
I slipped the footwear off and pressed my bare soles flat against the smooth, dark stone flags of the hall floor, savoring the immediate relief.
Lesta and her younger sister, Miri, sat opposite me on a low bench piled with woven wool cushions.
Unlike me, they showed no signs of fatigue from the trek.
Miri rested her cream-colored fleece legs under her saffron tunic, her polished hooves clicking softly against the stone as she stretched.
Both of them sipped their water in unhurried silence, their wide-set amber eyes scanning the carved geometric patterns along the walls with familiar ease.
Nartab had left us the moment we crossed the threshold of the heavy timber doors.
He did not pause to drink or wash the red grit from his shoulders.
He simply grabbed a heavy iron-tipped spear from the rack by the entrance and strode out along the perimeter wall to inspect the outer gates and upper watchtowers.
Even after hours of climbing, his heavy hooves had struck the courtyard stones with the same relentless rhythm.
"Your knuckles are white around that cup, Veliria," Lesta said, her voice a gentle murmur that broke the cavernous quiet of the hall.
She lowered her bronze goblet and tilted her head, her delicate horn-buds catching the warm daylight spilling through the high arched windows. "You are winding yourself tight."
"I have never lived through a rut season before," I admitted, setting the cup down on a low stone table. The bronze clinked sharply against the rock. "In the human world, our seasons do not turn men into wild animals. I do not know what to expect when the madness actually hits the valleys."
Miri let out a soft, breathy sound that resembled the rustle of dry leaves.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her slender hand.
"You think of it like a storm that destroys everything in its path.
It is fierce, yes. Down in the lower camps, the blood runs hot, and the young males lose their patience for civil words.
But you do not need to fear the fever up here.
Nartab stands between us and the rest of the mountain. "
"Which makes me wonder why your father sent his heir," I said, looking between the two sisters. "If this season is so critical for the warlord, why lose his strongest fighter to guard duty on an isolated peak? Could another warrior not have kept us behind locked doors?"
Lesta exchanged a knowing look with Miri, her horizontal pupils narrowing slightly with amusement.
"Aside from the obvious fact that he is the most lethal fighter in our entire clan?
" Lesta asked, her lips curving upward. "He is our brother.
That bond matters when the blood-fever rises.
The rut will affect him, of course. No male of our kind is immune to the summer rut call.
But surrounded only by his sisters, his territorial drive remains protective rather than predatory. Our presence keeps his mind anchored."
"And there is another reason," Miri added, her voice dropping a register as she traced the rim of her cup with a polished fingernail.
"Last year, father left three guards at the eastern pass to watch over us.
By midnight, Nartab had to ride up from the valley to relieve them.
He spent the entire night fighting at the gates against males who tried to breach the perimeter. "
A cold prickle of apprehension moved up my spine, despite the chill of the room. "Why would clan males risk the warlord's wrath to break into a secluded stronghold?"
"Because bighorn males mate for life," Lesta said simply. She spoke the words with the weight of an ancient law. "We do not take lovers for a season. When a male claims a female among our kind, their bonds are permanent. And we are the warlord’s daughters."
"To claim one of us - even by brute persistence during the fever - means an automatic rise in rank," Miri explained, her amber eyes steady on mine.
"It guarantees a male a seat at the warlord's council and a permanent share of the highest canyon waters.
The madness makes them reckless enough to try. "
I looked toward the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall, suddenly picturing the sheer drop of the cliffs outside and the narrow stone bridge that connected our peak to the lower mountain. "And Nartab held the gate alone?"
"Until dawn," Lesta said. Pride warmed her quiet voice.
"He broke three spears and threw two of the warlord’s own captains off the lower ledge into the terrace below when they refused to retreat.
By sunrise, no male in the valley dared to approach our trail.
With Nartab holding the pass, no one will set a hoof on this summit. "
Her words carried a steady, undeniable certainty that seemed to settle the heavy dust in my chest. I took another breath of the cool, cavernous air, feeling the knot of anxiety in my stomach begin to loosen.
Nartab was terrifying in his own right - a towering mountain of bone, muscle, and animal instinct - but that violence was directed entirely outward, a wall of living stone built to shield us from the lower wastes.
"You look less like a cornered rabbit now," Lesta noted, watching my shoulders drop as the tension left my frame.
"I am adjusting to canyon logic," I said, offering her a faint smile. I picked up my sandals, unwilling to put my sore feet back into the stiff leather just yet. "It seems my new family believes in heavy fortifications."
"The mountains teach us to build thick walls," Lesta said, rising gracefully from her wool cushions. Her cream fleece caught the light as she straightened her saffron tunic. "Has the cool air settled your pulse enough, or do you need more time on the bench?"
"I am well," I answered, standing up on the cool flags and stretching my back until my vertebrae clicked.
"Good," Miri said, bouncing lightly to her hooves with a soft clatter against the stone.
"Because the sun is shifting past the high arch, and the shadows on the western terrace are extending.
If you are rested, we can walk the inner courtyards and show you the upper gardens before Nartab returns from the watchtowers. "
"Show me," I said, leaving my sandals beside the low table and letting my bare feet enjoy the chill of the floor as we moved toward the arched corridor.