37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Erix
The humming in my mind betrayed the quiet of the night. I didn’t open my eyes, screwing them shut even tighter as if that could block out the feeling. Keera was warm pressed against me as I slept, and I didn’t want to lose even a single second of this peace with her.
But I knew it was borrowed time, and the desert called me.
Just like she had my whole life, although I had tried to block it out when the key was listening closer. With one more deep inhale of Keera’s sunshine and warm skin scent, I gently extricated myself from her.
Despite the anxiety I knew lived in her, she stayed asleep. Endless years of practical survival had given her the skill of resting when she needed to, even when fear kept others awake. I wished I had developed the same ability, but instead I pushed back the tent flap and walked out into the night.
The air was cold, a sharp contrast to the burning heat of the day. It was the dry season, leaving everybody at risk of heat exhaustion and hallucinations during the day, only to be shivering while they slept.
Kelvar, though, did not seem to notice the cold as he stood looking up at the stars, although he only wore a light tunic and billowing pants. A cool breeze stirred the air, but the fabric did not move, reminding me that he was not really there, although apparently he was still very real.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Tomorrow we will free Alyx and heal the desert.”
He tore his gaze from the sky and looked at me with a sad smile. “I wish I could fight with you.”
“I’ll be carrying your sword,” I pointed out. “And I inherited the ability to wield it well from you. Something I don’t resent now as much as I once did.”
Kelvar sighed. “If I had been able to choose, I would have wanted my descendants to inherit my wife’s abilities, but I was not consulted in such decisions.”
“I guess the power in your blood simply overshadowed hers.”
“Never.” Kelvar shook his head vehemently. “Her magic was often quieter, but it was staggering in its immensity. I could drown in it, and it would have been a peaceful end.”
“Then why did she age and sicken when you did not? Shouldn’t the desert have granted her the same long life?”
Kelvar frowned. “She never feared death. In fact, as a healer, she walked side by side with it most days. I always wondered if that changed things.”
I huffed. “You don’t strike me as one to be afraid either.”
“I never feared death, but I feared being separated from Alyx.”
It was a sentiment echoed in my own body, from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. I had promised Keera I would never leave her again. I would never let her feel the pain of abandonment again, but if I was killed, she would be alone.
It didn’t change the fact that I would jump in front of a sword in an instant to protect her.
There was still a price to pay to heal the Heart. My own hammered in my chest, as I pondered what the desert might demand. I would pay it for Keera, without a second thought.
“Did—”
“Is everything all right, High Lord?”
I whirled around, to find Koen holding a torch as he stood between two tents, the flickering light making his odd copper hair look as much like flame as the one he held.
“Yes.” I looked over my shoulder, but Kelvar was gone. “I just—” I bit my tongue, thinking it unwise to admit to hallucinations mere hours before leading this man and his people into battle.
“I see I am not the only one plagued by visions.”
I frowned. I had never considered how Koen’s odd premonitions might present themselves.
“Yours come in dreams, if I remember correctly.”
Koen’s lips quirked. “They do.”
“And did you have any dreams tonight?” I couldn’t help the hope creeping into my voice. Perhaps he had some inkling of what dawn would bring or a clue that could help us turn the tide.
“I did dream, but only the nightmares that are to be expected on the eve of battle. Still, I’ve become accustomed enough to my dreams coming true that I prefer to stay awake instead of having such visions.”
I grimaced. Perhaps his gift was as much of a curse as mine, although it was more unique than my raw power.
“The desert gave you an interesting blessing. I’ve never heard of its like,” I admitted.
“Perhaps it is not entirely the desert’s gift,” Koen mused, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
“After all, my mother was not from the clans or Kelvadan but was the daughter of a trader who came from Doran. But she fell in love—with both my father and the sands—and so she never went home. I always wondered if it shaped more about me than my hair. And after hearing the tale of the three sisters, I wonder if our goddess may have borrowed some of her oldest sister’s power. ”
I blinked. General Warrick was the only other man I had seen with such a hair color, but it had never occurred to me before that a clan lord might carry blood from beyond the mountains.
Still, Warrick had told us of the witches from Doran who studied the future, although he had spoken of runes and complex rituals.
“It seems the desert has given your gift her own wild flavor,” I observed.
“For which, I am glad,” Koen admitted. “If I could look into the future at will, I would not be able to appreciate the unpredictable nature of my home.”
“I am not so glad,” I huffed. “It would be useful to know more about the coming battle.”
“Some things are best left a mystery. Otherwise, we might not have the courage to face them, if we knew the pain that awaited us.”
His ominous words fell like stones in my heart, and I swallowed. The silence stretched long, until Koen inclined his head. “I’ll leave you to your own visions.” Then, he returned the way he had come, leaving me in darkness.
I looked around briefly to see if Kelvar might return, but I was glad when he didn’t. All I wished for now was a few more moments with Keera safely in my arms before we plunged into danger.
The sun burned fiercely into the back of my neck as it climbed in the sky behind me.
For the second time I marched toward war with the city of Kelvadan.
This time, though, Keera rode beside me, instead of the silence in our bond driving me forward in a blind rage.
It should have been a comfort, but somehow my dread was heavier.
Perhaps it was because saving Kelvadan seemed more daunting than destroying it had been. Maybe Kelvar was right: Healing was a greater power than ruin, and I feared it was one that I did not possess.
As the city came into view, the heaviness in my veins only deepened. The last time I had marched on Kelvadan, the brand new gate had been a jarring reminder of how much my home had changed. This was far worse.
The wooden gate that Keera had obliterated had been replaced, now reinforced with forged metal bands and adorned with lethal spikes, impeding the effects of any ram.
Sat atop the flat stone rooves that made the stacked levels of Kelvadan were unfamiliar structures, although I recognized them from General Warrick’s descriptions.
Trebuchets and catapults and ballistae decorated every level of the stacked city, and all of them were trained on our approaching army.
The Ballan Desert had always been a place of war, but never like this.
The sands appreciated clean bloodshed in duels of honor, and the clans would fight one day and trade the next.
The beacon of love that Kelvar had built for his wife had become instead of symbol of death and hate. No wonder the desert’s Heart was shattered.
Keera’s mental presence in my mind seethed at the sight, and I did not try to soothe it. Instead, I echoed back the anger in full force. Now was not the time to hold back the rage at what had become of the city she once ruled. It was time to unleash.
The flickering dots of fires and torches appeared in the city before us, and I raised my fist, halting our army in the shadow of the mountains. We should not yet be in range of their terrible machines.
Doka pranced and pawed beneath me, not quite as steady as Alza was in the face of violence, but his restlessness echoed in my veins. In fact, it echoed through the whole desert, and I was aware of the vibration of every grain of sand from the walls of the city to the shores of the ocean.
It was strong enough that even those who were not connected to the magic of the desert could sense it. The entire line of soldiers behind me—the riders of all nine clans and the long lines of soldiers from Doran, armed with axes and warhammers—exuded an air of nervous despair.
I turned around, and Keera joined me so we could survey our forces. Gazes shifted and horses hung their heads, in echo of their rider’s posture. The clans were used to war, but not of this kind. There were none braver than the riders of the Ballan Desert, but their courage hung by a thread.
Keera and I had rallied them into a near suicidal charge before, and we could do it one more time.
I drew my sword and held it aloft.
“People of the desert!” My voice projected through the unnatural hush that had fallen over the lines at the sight of our enemies.
“You were once united under the illusion that the desert needed to be returned to the old ways, from the times before the Great City.
To the days where battle and blood were the highest laws of the land.
“I was wrong though, to espouse such things.” At that, a shuddering murmur ran through the crowd, and people began to look up from their horse’s necks.
I took a deep breath before pushing ahead, my voice growing in strength.
“The true power of the desert comes to bear when we band together. Today, the desert desires blood, but it will not be ours that is spilled. Today, we will fight, shoulder to shoulder, clan beside clan, against our enemies for the desert and her Heart. Today, we are all riders of the Ballan Desert, and she will not let us fail!”
Sparks ignited in the eyes of those closest to me and they adjusted their weapons in their grips. Some of the fire of battle began to seep into the air and I nodded at Keera. She drew her short sword, the perfect companion of my saber.
“This will work?” she murmured so just I could hear.
“It has to,” I reminded her. It was true—we needed the desert’s fury to help us turn the tide against Viltov’s machines of war. I had done it once before, and there was one sacrifice I had often avoided out of fear of madness, but I was afraid no longer.
And Keera—she was the most fearless of all.
Together, we gripped our blades and twisted, reopening the scars in our hands that symbolized our marriage. Then we reached across the space between our mounts and clasped our hands, letting our blood mix and well up between our intertwined fingers.
Last time we had done this, and the sands had drunk our combined essence, it had shown us the ocean, telling us where our answers lay. This time, I hoped for a different type of answer.
Keera squeezed our intertwined grip, forcing the hot, sticky liquid from between our palms and sending it dripping to the ground.
We gasped in unison the moment it hit the sand between us.
Color and taste and sensation exploded in my mind, but I didn’t lose myself in it.
I could still feel Keera’s hand in mine, and that was enough to keep me present, and to remember what we searched for.
It wasn’t hard to find.
The angry frenetic madness that had been my constant companion for many years leapt forward.
Within its wild rage, I found twisting knots coagulating into a dark and perverted sort of life.
It was like the mind of the gravehawk and the tricrith I had touched as I tried to ride them, and that was exactly what we searched for.
Together, Keera and I called out to them like we would to a horse.
The responding echo of magic, though, was nothing like the clear, bright flame of the desert’s chosen creatures.
A broken scream filled my mind, and I thought it was the voice of a woman.
Perhaps the youngest goddess herself responded to our call.
Doka shifted under me, drawing me back into my body with a snap. My fingers slipped from Keera’s, but the job was done. Riders gasped and shouted as the sky suddenly darkened, and the crack of thunder filled the air.
But the panicked note of their exclamations turned to wonder as the gravehawks that appeared on the horizon flew right past the army and hurtled toward the city.
The ground trembled beneath us, and Doka, young and inexperienced as he was, began to sidle away and toss his head.
But I patted his neck and calmed him just in time for the ground between us and the city to explode upwards, showering us with earth and sand as several massive tricriths burst forth.
But they too paid the army no mind, instead scuttling toward the walls of the city with clacking pincers.
Today, we fought alongside the monsters.
As horrifying as it was, I felt the lift in the spirit of the riders at our backs.
The gravehawks screeched, the sound like steel scraping across a stone, as they sped toward the city.
Dark dots scurried around the stacked stone buildings for a few moments before more flames appeared.
Then, flaming rocks flew through the air like deadly falling stars, launched by Viltov’s trebuchets and catapults.
I winced as one of them connected with a gravehawk, sending it hurtling to the ground where it collapsed in a flaming heap with a sickening crunch.
But even more missed their marks, and the creatures of the desert were not deterred.
The gravehawks crashed into the first set of machines, and they collapsed like piles of kindling under the weight of their skeletal bodies.
The screams of Viltov’s soldiers carried through the still morning air, and the horror of their cries was not lost over the distance.
They grew even louder as the tricriths began scuttling up the walls, turning their deadly stingers on the archers stationed atop them.
With the monsters on our side, we had a fighting chance.
Now, Keera drew her saber alongside her short sword and held it aloft.
“For the desert!” she cried.
The shouts and battle cries of the riders behind her drowned out the sound of the monsters’ attack. I raised my sword as well, and side by side, Doka and Daiti plunged forward, leading the charge toward the Heart of the Desert.