Chapter 1

Chapter One

THE VIPER

S parks danced through the air as the blade of my saber clashed against my opponent’s. My blow was stronger than his, knocking his sword out of the way. He switched directions quickly, blocking my next strike before it could land.

The Lord of Clan Ratan wanted a battle with the Viper, so that is what he would get.

I pressed forward in a flurry of strikes, driving him back toward the edge of the circle of people watching us fight. His arms shook as he blocked my blows—he was growing tired.

Even as his movements became sluggish, his technique saved him from several strikes, speaking to the skills that allowed him to become Lord of Clan Ratan. I gritted my teeth at the show of his talents. He would have been useful in training the riders of the combined clans if he hadn’t gotten it in his head to challenge me to a duel of honor.

Such duels could only end one way.

Finally, the lord made a mistake, and I struck with a flick of my wrist. My opponent landed on his knees, saber dropping to the sand beside him. As the tip of my blade pressed into the space below his breastbone, not penetrating him but clearly showing my victory, he snarled up at me .

I stared back down at him in a mix of triumph and frustration. Battle had amplified the voice of the desert in my head, her power pounding through my veins. With magic coursing through me, begging for blood, it made gritting out my question difficult.

“Will Clan Ratan bow to Lord Alasdar and Clan Katal?”

“Over my dead body,” sneered Lord Einil.

It was a challenge, the lord mocking me. Duels in the Ballan Desert were to the death, and sparing your opponent was seen as a dishonor to both parties. My hesitation to end his life had not gone unnoticed, but I had no honor left to risk.

Before I could move, Lord Einil fell forward onto my sword, impaling himself on the blade. I hissed but did not pull away, staring into his face as the life drained from his eyes. My blood boiled at the waste of such a worthy warrior, one who could have been useful in saving the desert, but I leashed my anger through force of will.

The clans had to be united, and Lord Einil had left me no choice. He challenged me to a duel of honor as the condition of Clan Ratan’s allegiance, and a true warrior of the clans could not refuse such a challenge. The shouting of the desert in my mind reminded me of the urgency of my task.

With a decisive movement, I yanked my sword free of the corpse, and it teetered on its knees for a moment before collapsing to the ground. A hush had fallen over the surrounding crowd, but nobody protested my actions. The clans of the Ballan Desert understood power above all else.

I turned toward a young woman at the edge of the crowd, Einil’s daughter, who would now serve as lord of the clan. Leadership in the clans didn’t necessarily pass from parent to child, with riders of the Ballan Desert valuing power over blood. The way every member of the clan turned deferentially to her though told me she had been groomed to have the strength to lead.

“Lord Alasdar will expect Clan Ratan to join him within a fortnight.”

“I will see it done, Viper.”

The way she spat my title spoke of more insult than respect, but I paid her tone no mind. It didn’t matter what anybody thought of the masked warrior, Lord Alasdar’s Viper. I had been tasked with restoring the desert, no matter the cost. If my penance should be the hatred of the clans, then so be it.

I wiped the blade of my sword on the sand, and the shouting of the desert in my mind quieted to a whisper. As the crimson melted into the golden dune, I looked up to the sky, the rays of the sun moving quickly toward the horizon, piercing the openings around the eyes of my mask and heating the stifling metal against my skin. I drank in the rare moment of clarity that came after a fight, grateful to be able to hear my own thoughts where so often they were drowned out by the overwhelming crush of magic.

My saber was clean enough for now, and I sheathed it across my back with a sigh. I was envious of the blade—it didn’t have to think about its existence until it was brought out to draw blood, put away with no worries until the next fight. I needed to make my way back to Lord Alasdar.

I walked through the crowd, and they parted like water to let me through, no one daring to come too close. We were already near the edge of Clan Ratan’s encampment where my horse waited for me.

Alza tossed her head as I approached, throwing her glossy black mane into my face. At least she was happy to see me, greeting me with a low whicker. I spared her a pat on the forelock before vaulting onto her back and spurring her on with a squeeze of my knees. She picked her own pace across the sands, and I didn’t bother to direct her with my heels at her sides. The desert was pleased with me today and wouldn’t let me wander long before she offered place to rest.

The dunes flew by, familiar only in their ever-changing ways, the landscape shaped by the wind to be something entirely different, even though I had passed this way earlier in the day. An oasis appeared in the distance, and I directed Alza toward it with a nudge. The sight of date palms rising out of the greenery indicated that this oasis had at one point supported a clan’s encampment, and they had cultivated the trees to protect the water source from the wind and sands, making it a lasting haven for travelers. I could camp there tonight and let Alza drink her fill before rejoining with the rest of the clan tomorrow.

As the verdant splotch of the oasis in the otherwise golden landscape drew closer, I realized I was no longer alone in my own head again. The whispers of power in my mind returned so gradually that at first, I believed it was just the wind brushing against the sand. With each step Alza took toward our resting place though, they grew in volume until their words tumbled over each other in a violent cacophony, always unintelligible. As always, their tone seemed to suggest they wanted something, and I did my best to placate them by healing the desert the only way I knew how. By now, my annoyance with the incessant chattering was tinged dark with resignation.

I clutched at strands of Alza’s mane that caught in my fingers so tightly she snorted in protest. I released her mane, but the frustration that held me only gripped tighter. Usually feeding blood to the desert bought me at least a day of peace, but this time I only had hours. Darkness whirled and eddied in my vision, and I closed my eyes, trusting Alza to lead us to our destination without guidance.

The sudden cease of motion beneath me caused me to look around, finding that Alza stood at the edge of a small pool, gulping thirstily. I jumped down beside her but did not drink. That would have to wait until I took my mask off for the night.

For now, I busied myself setting up a camp. I wouldn’t need a tent as I was alone, and a small fire would suffice to warm me. It was the dry season, so the nights didn’t get as cold, and Alza generated more than enough warmth if I needed it. As I collected fallen branches from the date palms surrounding the oasis for fuel, the back of my neck prickled. The ghost of a breath brushed over my ear. I whipped around, searching for the source of the whisper. Looking around, I found it to only be my own madness playing tricks on me. This was not the first time it had done so. Still, I couldn’t shake the notion that the desert was stirring around me, the voices echoing in my skull taking on an excited tone. Where normally they were angry, crescendoing in anticipation every time I rode into battle, their cadence was different now.

I grunted in frustration as I waved my hand over the pile of fuel, and it burst into flame with more enthusiasm than I intended. My magic tried to slip its leash, still fizzling from the earlier battle. I dug my fingers into my palms, pushing away the buzzing power at the base of my skull that threatened to overwhelm me. I was only paying it such mind since it returned much more quickly than I was used to. I had lived with the constant voice of the desert since I was a boy, and it never truly abated. I could only hope they would calm when I fulfilled my task of healing her.

Having finished refreshing herself, Alza trotted over to inspect my progress. I lifted my small number of packs from her back so she could rest completely. While I rode with no saddle or bridle, as did all who called the Ballan Desert home, I roped supplies to Alza’s back for multiday trips, much to her dismay. As soon as I released them from her back, she rolled gleefully in the sand, rubbing dirt and grime into her shining midnight coat.

I located my sleeping mat and laid it out next to the fire, grateful for its warmth as the desert air cooled rapidly with the sun descended below the horizon line. The sweat beneath my mask chilled with it, itching along my nose and jawline where the metal sat against my skin.

Looking around to ensure my solitude, for the volume of the chattering in my head somehow suggested that I was not alone, I reached up to release the catches of the contraption. The metal fell away from my face, skin greeted by the evening breeze and the grit of sand always carried along with it. It was a jarring sensation, as I never removed the covering outside of the privacy of my own tent when in Clan Katal’s encampment. Out here in the dunes though, there was nobody to witness me but Alza and the desert, and they already knew of my sins.