30. Chapter 30 #2
Even so, we both knew we could coordinate an attack from two sides unlike any other. With the bond between us fresh and strong and growing by the day once more, we would know where the other was and when they engaged in battle. And with it, we would know where the other half of our forces were.
“Prepare your riders for battle,” I told the lords and Warrick. “Erix will set out immediately, and we will attack soon after.”
Each lord hurried off to alert their warlord and assemble their own warriors.
Everybody else would create a makeshift camp to await the results of the battle.
I kneed Daiti around, pulling him up next to Erix.
As I did, Alza and the stallion bumped noses as if they too were having their own private conversation.
As little as Daiti tolerated other horses, he and Alza had grown used to each other’s company, and I suspected he even liked the black mare. Perhaps they wished each other luck in the coming battle. I hoped Daiti told Alza to keep her rider safe.
Erix leaned in as close as he could on two separate horses. “I do not know if Calix himself is in that camp, but he will want you dead. He does not seem like the type of man to be complacent that you escaped him.”
“That is exactly why I have to stay and lead the charge,” I said. “And the people of the other Clans already respect your power. They will follow you into battle, even if they are thirsty and harried already.”
Erix nodded. “We will fight toward each other, and when we meet on the battlefield, we will know our enemy is vanquished.”
“I much prefer this to meeting with swords drawn against each other.” I smiled ruefully.
“Be safe,” Erix murmured. “I don’t want to have to break the desert even further to bring you back.”
“I would kill you myself if you were to break the Heart of the desert for me.”
“I know. And I would love you even more for it.”
Before I could answer, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t want it to be a kiss goodbye, so I filled it with a promise—the promise that we would find each other on the battlefield. We were the High Lords of the Desert, and together, our power would save our home and all its people.
Erix’s lips were firm and warm against mine, and I memorized the shape of them, as if I hadn’t already. Then, too quickly, it was over.
He sat up straight, and the commanding face of the warrior slid into place. It sent a pleasant shiver up my spine. Without another word, he kicked Alza into a gallop, and his dark silhouette retreated across the golden sand, arcing out wide away from the Viltov encampment.
I watched him go, waiting for a sinking in my gut at the feeling of being left, but it never came. Because I knew he would come back. He would fight against all three goddesses and their mother in the sky to get back to me, as I would him.
Instead, the gnawing in the pit of my belly was much deeper.
This fight was not just about the two of us.
The fate of the desert rested on our shoulders.
While I would spill as much blood of my enemies as I could to satisfy her, I couldn’t guarantee some of our own blood wouldn’t be spilled in return.
A bump against my knee drew my attention away from Erix’s retreating form, now barely visible, and Alza galloped swiftly over the sand.
I looked over to find Aderyn atop her own roan.
The handles of her sickle blades stuck up behind her shoulders in addition to the saber at her hip.
A dark line of paint was drawn across her eyes, from temple to temple, to keep the sun out of her gaze in the traditional battle paint of the desert.
She lifted the small pot of black pigment in her hand, offering it to me. I took it gratefully. The last thing I needed while leading the charge was to be blinded by the sun.
As I dipped my fingers into the pot, Aderyn cleared her throat. “All the lords are organizing their own riders, and Elion and Dhara command themselves. I have no place to ride in the charge.”
I paused with my fingers halfway to my face and stared at her. “Of course you do. You’ll ride at my side.”
Aderyn’s shoulders softened a touch, and she smiled ruefully. “I have no banner to carry for you, like a proper lord would have.”
“Don’t be calling me a proper lord now,” I huffed, smearing the paint across my eyes.
I even put a stripe down my bottom lip for good measure, the exact same configuration I had worn in gold when I had been coronated as Queen of Kelvadan.
Then, the war paint had been symbolic. But today, I would get to fight for my people in the way I knew best: With a sword in hand and a horse beneath me.
“Besides, you shouldn’t be bearing my banner,” I told Aderyn as I handed the paint back to her. “You are your own banner. You fight for Kelvadan.”
Aderyn nodded, looking surer of herself. “I do.”
“All the clans have a lord in this battle ready to fight and bleed for them. The people of the great city—who likely suffer much under their occupation—deserve the same.”
“You fight for Kelvadan too,” she pointed out.
“I do. I will kill for all the people of the desert, but not the way you do for Kelvadan. Not like somebody who truly calls it home.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You certainly are persistent with your wishes.”
“I just want what is best for Kelvadan, and I certainly proved that isn’t me as the queen,” I shrugged.
“You are making a serviceable high lord.”
“Save the judgement for after the battle. And they are not nearly the same thing.”
Aderyn’s lips twisted. “Either way, it would be an honor to ride at your side.” She rapped her knuckles to her temple.
I did the same in return. “The honor would be mine.”
The sun was high in the sky as I crested the final rise between us and Calix’s army.
I stopped there, fully visible from the large dip that housed the oasis below.
Aderyn sat astride her horse to my right, with the other lords spread out in both directions.
The line of riders assembled behind us, bearing banners that flapped in the breeze; the maroon scorpion of Clan Padra and the black snake of Clan Katal snapped not far behind the line of lords.
Normally, charging riders in the desert would not make for such fanfare—war was for fighting, not posturing—but we wanted all eyes on us.
Through the odd sense of Erix in my stomach, I could tell he was no longer moving, and I hoped that meant he had made it to the other clan’s encampment on the far side of the oasis.
The army below responded to our appearance quickly, scurrying about like fire ants on a smoldering log.
Men in burnished armor that shone blindingly in the desert sun formed lines against us.
Their flesh must be roasting from the heat, especially compared to the riders of the desert who wore minimal leather armor or none at all.
Still, they would be protected from our swords and arrows.
Behind them, a small force of cavalry assembled, and I ground my teeth so hard they creaked at the sight of saddles and bridles.
The men astride the stolen horses bore broad shields and carried long pikes.
Their defense would be strong, but true riders of the desert would be faster and nimbler. We did not need such heavy equipment.
It was enough to give me a sliver of hope even as bile filled my throat. The assembled riders at my back, combined with the men of Doran, was likely the single largest force ever to ride into battle in the desert—yet it paled in comparison to the army below.
“I bet I can kill more than you.”
I looked incredulously over at Elion, who had leaned over to speak his challenge to Dhara.
She scoffed. “You’re stupider than you look if you believe that.”
“Or maybe I just have something worth betting.”
“A wager?”
He smiled. “A challenge. If I kill more soldiers than you, then you finally agree to marry me.”
A shocked shiver ran through those within earshot as we all held our breaths. I half expected Dhara to knock Elion off his horse right there. Instead, she looked pensively down at the army below us.
“They don’t seem too fierce. I’m confident that I can fell more than you can. And when I do, command of your clan will belong to me.”
Elion’s eyes narrowed as we all watched in shock. “Agreed.”
“As if enough wasn’t resting on this battle,” Lord Demir said under his breath, but I heard the true tension there.
I steeled myself. The lords beside me were the fiercest fighters in the desert, and if fear built in their hearts, then the riders at my back were likely awash with doubts. I nudged Daiti forward a few steps so the whole line could see me and raised my sword above my head.
I wanted to be visible to the people—for them to know I would be the first to bleed and die for them if I had to—but I also wanted to pull the Viltov soldiers’ attention to me. I needed to be their singular focus.
“Riders of the desert!” I shouted for their attention, and Daiti aided me by prancing and wheeling around theatrically. His golden chestnut coat shone nearly metallic in the blinding sun and he tossed his head.