Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The Viper

M y body rebelled against me. It was likely due to the heavy training I had been leading the riders of the combined tribes through, but my muscles ached. I hadn’t hurt like this since I first came to Lord Alasdar and he taught me to master my magic through a combination of exhaustion and pain.

I looked down at my breakfast and wrinkled my nose. I had been eating more than usual, trying to keep up with the demands of increased exercise, sleeping heavily every night. Even when I was unconscious, my mind joined my body in unbalancing me, sending me odd dreams. My usual nightmares of being encased in stone had eased, only to be replaced by the face of the exiled woman I had almost killed, her defiant expression illuminated eerily by a flash of lightning. Sometimes I saw her galloping away on a too-large horse into the darkness, as I had spied her before she disappeared, a beautiful, wild thing. It was as if the desert wanted me to go after her, but there would be no point. Traveling alone without supplies, she would likely be dead by now. I shook the notion from my head.

I needed to eat, but today an undercurrent of nausea had my meal looking exceptionally unappetizing. I pushed it aside and picked up my mask, fastening it on my face, the weight giving me the separation from myself I needed to push away the unpleasant sensation.

A squawk and a peck indicated Zephyr found my meal more satisfactory than I had. I cursed internally as I found myself using the name Izumi had bestowed on the bird, despite my insistence that a name made him a pet. Zephyr had stuck, and so he stayed.

Mask firmly in place, I pushed out of the tent to greet the first rays of dawn. The riders were not required to report to the edge of the camp until the sun was fully risen, but I preferred a moment of solitary practice before having to wrangle dozens of sloppy fighters.

At the open space alongside the horse’s enclosure, I began my forms, my muscles protesting the movements despite having done them hundreds of times over the last decade. Perhaps I had been forgoing my exercises more than I realized as I rode around doing Lord Alasdar’s bidding. I needed to be more diligent in my practice, as they were one of the more pleasant ways of controlling my magic.

The forms were a tradition of clan riders, passed down through the generations since the first time the desert had been crossed. They were still just as essential for those wanting to hone their skills as a warrior as well as those who served the desert’s will.

I finished with an exhale as I lowered my hands, the riders of the four clans congregating around the fence. I grimaced, wishing my magic had calmed more throughout my forms, but it tugged on its leash more insistently these days. It was in league with my body in rebelling it seemed. Still, I had plenty of practice ignoring the whispers in my mind, the shadows of my connection to every grain of sand in the desert, stretching from the mountains to the sea.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I approached the riders, each gathering their training weapons and mounts. They still seemed to separate into their clans, limiting any mingling to nods and glances as they pushed past each other. Such divisions would need to be patched before we could move on Kelvadan.

Izumi stepped up beside me, leading Alza as well as her own mount and echoed my thoughts. “We need to run drills as a group today.”

I nodded as Alza butted my hand with her head. I leapt up onto her back using only a hand on her neck for leverage .

“We will be riding in practice meles of four against four today,” I announced from Alza’s back. “Each group of four will have one rider from each clan.”

This announcement was met with general grumbling from the assembled group. However, it quieted quickly as I scanned the crowd. While they couldn’t see my face, I knew my posture projected my disapproval.

Izumi and I wove between the riders as they milled together, reluctantly mixing and recombining themselves. A pocket of riders I recognized as being from Clan Ratan was slow to disperse, and I nudged Alza toward them.

“—let the warlords command their own riders.”

One of the voices carried on the wind. I stopped Alza behind the man who had just spoken.

“You wish to offer a critique of my techniques?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

The man spun in his seat so fast he nearly fell from his horse, having to dig his hands into the stallion’s mane to stay on. The steed didn’t appreciate this and stamped at the ground in irritation.

Another man in the group came forward, rescuing the rider who clearly hadn’t expected me to be listening.

“The warlords of the clans know their riders best,” he insisted. His posture was proud, but his eyes flicked over my mask as if they didn’t know where to look. I knew it unnerved many, and I made no effort to change that.

“Did Clan Ratan not swear fealty to Lord Alasdar? I remember it distinctly.” Indeed, I could feel the blood of Lord Einil dripping over my hands even now. His daughter had been quick to comply.

“We did, but the warlords of each clan should remain in command of their warriors even as we fight Lord Alasdar’s war.” He lifted his chin. “I am the warlord of Clan Ratan, and I would lead my own riders into battle.”

“Lord Alasdar’s war?” My voice dropped low, the hiss of snake hidden in its den preparing to strike. The voices in my mind murmured in response. “Does the fate of the desert not belong to all the clans?”

“If it does, then why should Lord Alasdar be the one who we follow? And why should you be the one put in command of all the riders, when he won’t even make you a proper warlord?”

A murmur swept through the surrounding riders, as all attention now gathered on our confrontation. I kept my tone even, but firm enough to ensure all could hear me.

“Because I am Lord Alasdar’s fist, and I will come down on any who seek to undermine his plans. You would do well to remember what happens to those who oppose the leader of Clan Katal.”

I stared down the knot of riders from Clan Ratan until one by one they bowed their head in deference. My gaze lingered on one with a close-cropped beard that I didn’t think I had seen before. His eyes held something calculating just before he averted them, staring down at his horse’s neck in respect. Perhaps I had been away too much recently to know the riders as well as I should.

With that, I turned away from the warlord, ready to lead the riders out into the flatter plains beyond encampment where there was more space to ride. The clash of swords would calm the clanging in my mind.

I hadn’t made it more than a handful of horse-lengths away when a screaming erupted in my mind. I wheeled Alza around, throwing my arm out as I did it.

A crimson slash split the air where the warlord of Clan Ratan sat on his horse, saber raised as he charged at my back. The assembled riders watched in silence as he froze, blood bubbling from his lips and the realization dawning in his eyes that he was already dead.

Crimson splattered the faces of his comrades behind him from the force of my slash, stark against their ashen skin as their leader slid sideways off his horse. He crumpled to the ground, already a corpse, thick blood blackening the sand around him.

I looked to the sky and breathed deeply. My head swam as if after too much laka, drunk on the swift rush of power that came with such decisive use of my magic. The voices in my mind purred in contentment as the desert drank in her sacrifice.

“Move out.” Izumi barked orders as she kneed her mount up next to me. “The horse master will handle his mount. We still have training to do.”

The riders were silent as they arranged themselves on the plain for our mock battles. Izumi gave me a small nod, but her eyes narrowed at me. I just turned away from the crumpled form on the sand, trotting after the other riders.

When I walked into Lord Alasdar’s tent, the dusk air was heavy. I pushed aside the entrance flap, and fragrant smoke met my senses, even as dulled as they were behind the sheet of metal.

Lord Alasdar sat cross legged by the fire, eyes closed and hands clasped in a pose of meditation. The heavy smell of incense in the air stirred memories within me, accompanied by fear and overwhelming relief.

“Your control slips today.” He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke.

I nodded, but he could not see me and required no response anyway.

“You killed today, but it did not bring you peace.”

“The riders question you and resist joining together. Without their combined forces, we will not breach Kelvadan. I will not allow us to fail.”

Lord Alasdar opened his eyes to look at me, almost luminescent in their paleness, despite the dim light. “That is not why your magic fights you, though.”

I did not answer, but again, he required no reply. He could feel the roiling under my skin.

“There have been no more storms or strange beasts these past weeks. All our hunters have returned safely, not drawn astray by the desert to lose their way and die of exposure. But the magic that holds the world together seems to shiver in anticipation, waiting for something.”

The fire crackled in the silence.

“We will give it what it waits for.” The flames reflected in Lord Alasdar’s wide eyes, making them flash a fiery orange for a moment.

The confidence in his gaze calmed me, but not as much as it normally did. We would destroy Kelvadan and restore to the desert what she had lost. Still, the closer we came to our goal, the further I seemed to slip from the peace that so eluded me.

“I can tell it is testing your control. I have felt the surges of power from you all week.” Lord Alasdar’s tone was sympathetic. “You have kept it leashed, but you must grow tired. Let me help you.”

His hand drifted toward the fire where a metal bar already lay growing red hot. I nodded, untying my belt and letting my leather vest and tabards fall open. I shrugged it off along with my tunic before kneeling by Lord Alasdar.

The neat rows of brands ran across my upper shoulders, extending to the lower points of my shoulder blades by this point. Tonight, we would add more.

I clenched my fists on my legs to keep my hands from shaking even as my mouth grew dry. I hated that I had not yet purged the fear that came over me before Lord Alasdar’s lessons. Even so, I forced myself to sit still, screwing my eyes shut behind my mask, glad for the protection from his scrutiny. I would bear the pain, and in return, I would be granted peace from the swirling awareness of the desert constantly murmuring in the back of my mind.

“Bite your tongue. I don’t want to bother the camp,” Lord Alasdar instructed as he pulled the sizzling poker from the flames.

I bowed my head and stayed silent, as I had for many years.

Izumi found me as I moved through my forms the next morning. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion from a lack of sleep the night before. I preferred to rest on my back, but three new charred lines across my ribs made that impossible.

With her brown hair darkened with sweat and a sunburned flush disguising her freckles, it was clear she had just returned from her morning run. It was a ritual she had followed since I had joined Lord Alasdar, her having been a member of Clan Katal even before he rose to command.

She set her hands on her hips and observed me with sharp eyes as I finished my second form, working hard to suppress a grimace as a twist stretched the skin on my back .

“You visited Lord Alasdar’s tent last night.” Her tone was emotionless, but I felt the hidden question behind her words.

I only nodded in response to her observation.

“Does he have any new plans I should know of?”

And there it was, the subtle tinge of frustration that undercut so many of my interactions with Izumi every time we spoke of Lord Alasdar. She always asked me if he had any new plans, as he never called her into his tent, even though she commanded the riders when I was gone.

I never had the heart to tell her that her lack of magic saved her from the burdens of being in his confidence—from the weight of understanding our mission in its entirety and the pain of his mentorship. Perhaps that is why she ran miles every morning before the rest of the riders came to train. To hone her body so thoroughly that her lack of magic was no longer a weakness.

“Nothing of importance.” I paused in my forms, resting my hands on my knees as I breathed deeply. My practice left me oddly winded today.

Izumi’s eyes flashed, and a muscle in her jaw ticked. “Maybe instead you should be discussing better ways to protect us from the wrath of the desert.”

I flinched. I knew the importance of our mission better than most—better than even Izumi, perhaps, but the writhing of my magic and memories of a feral exiled woman had distracted me from our recent setbacks.

Izumi glared at me now, clearly not suffering from the same distractions. While I shied away from very little, her gaze was hot enough to scorch, and I wondered what it would have been like to be on the receiving end of matching glares before her identical twin had been lost to the wrath of the desert.

“I will speak to him of increased measures to protect the clans until we can ride on Kelvadan,” I said.

Izumi nodded. “Tell him I’ll be happy to assist in whatever way he sees fit. I betrayed my people to make him lord because I believed he could heal the desert.”

I felt the hurt in her voice in my own chest. She had marked herself a betrayer, fighting against the riders of Clan Katal that stayed loyal to the former lord when Lord Alasdar made his bid for power. After the death of her twin, I had watched Lord Alasdar easily fill her with fervor, turning her grief into anger against Kelvadan—the root of all our issues. Still, she seemed to itch for his acceptance, glaring at me every time I was summoned privately to Lord Alasdar’s tent.

Words formed on my tongue.

I may have Lord Alasdar’s confidence, but he is all I have. Do not envy me.

Such words were not fitting of the Viper.

“You will serve him by riding against Kelvadan with us.”

She pursed her lips, and I could tell she was dissatisfied, but she let the issue drop.

I sat outside under the stars, looking into a fire. The warmth of another person radiated from one side, although they were a few inches away, just close enough that if I leaned my weight, I might brush their shoulder with mine. I rested my chin on my arms where they were folded over my knees, and after a few moments, my companion hummed.

While the melody was a familiar tune, a song often sung by riders around the fire to celebrate a victory , her sense of pitch was terrible, and it surely was a woman based on the tone of her song.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “I’ve heard riders who downed an entire flagon of laka sing that tune better.”

“Then why don’t you sing it,” she shot back.

Neither of us looked at each other.

“I think I would need a flagon of laka before doing that.” Indeed, the song in question had some rather explicit lyrics that I was unlikely to repeat outside of the safety of my tent without some liquid assistance. Not that I ever joined the riders in their celebrations around the fire as it was.

The two of us lapsed into comfortable silence for a long second before she spoke again.

“You’re… in pain? ”

The way she said it sounded confused, as if she was surprised by the fact she could tell.

At her words, my attention drifted to my back, where I could still feel the shadow of fire pressing lines into my skin. It felt distant though, as if a veil of silk lay between me and the sensation.

“I needed it,” I responded.

The words came surprisingly easy, the hazy feel of the world around me making them drift out of my head through my mouth nearly unbidden.

“Why?” Her question was innocent.

“Because it makes me strong, so I can do what must be done.”

A rustling came from my side, and I looked out the corner of my eyes to see a long-fingered hand pick up and handful of sand before letting it run out between her fingers.

“I’ve suffered a lot in my life,” she observed. “I don’t know yet if it’s made me strong. Is all that pain noble, or does it just hurt?”

At this, I turned to look at her fully, and met the bottomless eyes of the exiled woman who had lived in the recesses of my mind since her escape. The corners of Keera’s mouth turned down as she looked at my unmasked face.

I awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright as my hands flew to face, tracing my bare features. My mask lay on the ground beside me, but I was alone in my tent. It had just been a dream.

I grabbed it now, shoving it on as if that might protect me from the memory of the dream. While I thought of Keera more often than I should, it had always been mere curiosity at where she may have gone or conjecture about the lightning storm that had allowed her escape. Sometimes, it was bouts of frustration that I hadn’t been able to snuff out the life of the only person to see my face in so many years.

The dream left me unbalanced. Usually, my only nighttime visions were of being crushed beneath an avalanche of stone or the desert dissolving into the ocean, falling to pieces as I failed to hold it together with my bare hands. This, though—this had been peaceful.

With a groan, I pushed to my feet, grabbing my sword, and pushing out into the pale gray that came before full dawn, painting the world in tones of black and white. There would be no more sleep for me tonight .

I headed to the horses’ enclosure, hoping a few quiet moments with Alza might quiet my nerves. A few whispered words with her followed by several hours with my saber in hand would hopefully be enough to free my mind from the odd path it had decided to tread.

I paused as I entered the enclosure, hearing whispered voices. The only one who ever rose as early as me was Izumi, and she normally departed on her run without a word.

I ducked behind a nearby mare that dozed standing up, head hanging partway down. Peeking out from behind her flank, I spied Izumi standing near her own piebald, head bent with another, taller figure.

Inching out a little further, I recognized the man from Clan Ratan with the close-cropped beard. He had been with the warlord who questioned me.

“—protection would the queen offer?”

My hackles rose at the mention of the queen, and I bared my teeth. Still, I quelled my anger enough to bite my tongue and listen closely.

“She is loyal to those who help her. You’d have a place in Kelvadan.” A male voice drifted across the enclosure.

I would have had to suppress a laugh of derision if not for the icy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Of all the threats I had envisioned toward the clans, Izumi hadn’t been counted among them.

“Meet me outside Lord Alasdar’s tent at noon. I will help you get the information you seek,” Izumi promised.

Before I could sneak away, Izumi and the man broke apart, and she walked toward the entrance to the enclosure. She would pass my makeshift hiding spot. Quickly, I stepped out from behind the mare, walking purposefully as if I had just entered and not been lurking in the shadows eavesdropping.

As she spotted me, she didn’t even narrow her eyes at me in suspicion or seem surprised, only offering the small nod that passed as a greeting between us. I returned the gesture, not wanting to let her know I had heard her plot.

Exiting the enclosure, she set off for her run as she had on every other morning since I had known her. By the time I reached the far edge of the enclosure where Alza waited, the man had disappeared, probably jumping the fence and heading off around the line of tents on the other side.

I debated turning back and heading straight for Lord Alasdar’s tent, but I didn’t want to tip off Izumi or the rider by acting out of the ordinary. If they knew they had been discovered, they might flee to Kelvadan with valuable information.

Alza, whom I idly patted while I thought, tossed her head in a mirror of frustration, always sensitive to my changing moods. While the Viper did not make friends with the riders of the combined clans, Izumi at least had my trust as a capable warrior. My stomach soured at the thought of her betrayal.

She’s betrayed before.

My mind offered me the thought unbidden, and I gritted my teeth. The day Lord Alasdar took control of Clan Katal had been a bloody one, in no small part due to Izumi leading the riders who would lead the former lord into a trap where I could ambush them.

Lord Alasdar, warlord as he was at the time, had been calculated in revealing the plan for grabbing power to Izumi. As she grumbled quietly about the former lord not taking action to save the desert, even after her family had been swallowed by a patch of sinking sand that appeared in the middle of the night, Lord Alasdar was as a sympathetic ear. He knew her anger would drive her to do whatever it took to right the wrong that had stolen her twin sister from her.

Perhaps that anger drove her toward another betrayal as he continually pushed Izumi to the side of his plans.

I ran my fingers through Alza’s silky forelock, considering. If I could catch Izumi and the rider red handed, I could rob them of any chance to escape. Perhaps a spy of Kelvadan could even be leveraged as a source of information, or a way to feed false intelligence to the queen. After all, I had heard their plans. I would wait until noon and catch them in the act.

I left the morning of training covered in a sheen of sweat, stomping off in the direction of my own tent as I usually did. When I got there though, I lifted the back of the canvas and ducked out again circling back to the center of camp where Lord Alasdar’s tent would be.

As I walked, I tugged on whispers of power running through the camp, making gazes of clansmen and riders slide over me. Anybody particularly favored by the desert wouldn’t be affected by such a small deflection, but I knew that Izumi harbored no such magic. If she happened to look my direction, her gaze should skate over me as just another person going about their day.

I reached the edge of the ring of tents marking the center clearing of the encampment just in time to watch Izumi usher a familiar rider through the door of Lord Alasdar’s tent. I internally scolded her for her foolishness even as I grit my teeth in anger at her betrayal. She may be high enough ranking that she wasn’t questioned entering the lord’s tent, but if information were to go missing, she would have been seen coming and going.

Quickly, I skirted around the side of the structure, knowing that they would likely be watching the front flap as they searched. If I were to take them by surprise, I needed an alternate entrance. I didn’t want to risk going in without the element of surprise, as Izumi was the fighter who had come closest to besting me since—in a long time, and they would outnumber me.

As I approached the back corner of the tent, voices drifted through the canvas from within, but I couldn’t make them out. Without waiting a moment, I slashed my saber through the fabric and jumped inside. Magic flared at the base of my skull in anticipation of a fight and fizzled in frustration when I froze at the sight before me.

Lord Alasdar sat at his table, fingers steepled as he rested his chin on them with an expression of mild interest. Izumi stood over the rider where he knelt on the rug, a bruise blooming across one side of his face. All three looked up at me as I crashed through the tent wall.

“Viper,” was Lord Alasdar’s only response, somehow a statement and a question, all woven together with threads of disapproval.

“He’s a spy,” I spat out.

“It seemed Izumi pays closer attention than you, considering she gained his trust and then brought him to me before you even put it together,” he explained coolly.

I glanced up at Izumi, and although she did not smile, an unmistakable flash of pride danced along her features. So this was her bid to gain Lord Alasdar’s favor.

“As I was saying,” Izumi started when I continued to stare, sword still drawn, “Queen Ginevra is obviously concerned about the threat we pose and knows of our progress in uniting the clans if she sent a spy to watch our actions. I spotted Oren sending a messenger bird and became suspicious.”

At that, Lord Alasdar stood and walked to stand before the man kneeling on the floor—Oren I guessed. Even as his sandaled feet stopped in his line of view, Oren did not look up, although I could see a muscle working in his jaw.

Izumi kicked him in the side, none too gently. He grunted in pain, but his eyes remained fixed on the ground. Lord Alasdar, seemingly unperturbed, lowered himself to one knee, crouching before the spy in the way one would lower themselves to speak to a small child. My stomach clenched.

With a hand on his jaw, Lord Alasdar forced the spy to look at him. Oren resisted, and Lord Alasdar’s long, spidery fingers dug into his cheek.

“What have you told the queen?”

The magic binding together everything in the tent began to shudder, and I tensed against it. Izumi remained expressionless, unable to feel it as Lord Alasdar tugged on the tethers of Oren’s mind. Even as Lord Alasdar focused his power on the spy before him, a slithery feeling of unpleasantness ran up my spine at this use of the desert’s magic.

While Lord Alasdar didn’t harbor nearly as much raw power as I, his iron control gave him skills I could scarcely dream of. I’d never reached into the thoughts of another, aside from the gentle nudge of reassurance against the consciousness of a horse, knowing I would likely shred their sanity on contact. I could barely keep my magic from ripping into my own brain, always inches from falling into the madness that would one day be my fate. My magic was better suited to wild outbursts, shaping the desert around me to its will .

Oren bit his lips as if trying to resist speaking. Lord Alasdar’s eyes narrowed as his power flared and Oren began to shake.

“The Trials,” Oren blurted out as if saying the words were both pain and relief. “I told her that if the Viper is crowned Champion, the clans will unite.”

“What else?” Lord Alasdar’s tone was as casual as if he were asking about the weather.

“Nothing.” Oren spat the word in disgust. I could tell he was disappointed in his own weakness, giving in to Lord Alasdar’s probing, although he shouldn’t be. Very few would be able to resist for more than a few seconds.

Lord Alasdar considered him, not withdrawing his power yet, as if checking to see if he were telling the truth.

“Very well.” He stood with a brusque nod to Izumi. “Then he is of no more use to us.”

Izumi drew her sword from her hip.

I lunged forward. “Wait!”

It was too late. Blood splattered across the thick layers of rugs as Izumi drew her blade across Oren’s throat in a savage swipe. He gurgled and swayed for a moment, before pitching forward to crumple at a heap on the ground.

As connected as I had been to the magic of the desert in the tent, the sudden extinguishing of his life left me dizzy, a hint of nausea rolling over me. Lord Alasdar turned to look at me, eyes narrowed as if he could sense my weakness.

“It’s good that one of you does not hesitate to do what needs to be done.” His tone was icy, but it burned just as deep as hot iron across my back.

I owed Lord Alasdar everything I had but failed to carry out his wishes.

“He could have had information on Kelvadan’s defenses or been used to feed false rumors to the queen,” I pointed out. Even as his blood soaked through the rugs into the sand, and I felt the desert purr at the lifeforce that was returned to her, rage built in my head at the wastefulness of Izumi’s actions.

“He would not have known anything you haven’t already told me,” Lord Alasdar dismissed. “Leaving him alive would only have given him a chance to escape, as you did with the exile girl.”

I bit my tongue so hard my mouth flooded with copper. Izumi raised her chin triumphantly, standing over the fallen spy with a look of victory that spoke of conquering more than just an unarmed man.

So, this was Lord Alasdar’s ploy: to use his disapproval of Izumi to pit her against me, driving her efforts to new heights and punishing me for my failures. My hesitation to make the sacrifice and use brute force to bring the last five clans under our control had not gone unnoticed. Lord Alasdar’s message was clear.

I bowed my head. “We are lucky Izumi remained vigilant.”

I would do better. I had given up everything for Lord Alasdar to do my duty and save the desert. He saved me from my madness, and I would do whatever it took to help him in his mission—our mission.