Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The Viper

T he clash of sabers drowned out any noisy thoughts, for which I was glad. The warriors of all three clans trained together now, and I threw myself into their midst. The man I faced now was a member of Clan Miran, and so I had not faced him before. I relished the opportunity to hone my skills against new foes, to practice reading the movements of somebody who I didn’t already know.

Izumi was the best combatant besides me in Clan Katal, but sparring against her was rarely productive anymore, with us so used to each other’s strengths and weaknesses that it became a game of wits more than a proper fight. Still, she challenged me to practice with her nearly every day I trained with the riders, so determined was she to surpass me in skill.

My opponent came at me quickly, feinting and slashing with great speed, a move that had worked on his prior opponent. His blade whistled through the air with the force of his blow. The momentum of the swing carried the blade past me as I ducked instead of parrying like he had expected. I used the opportunity to slash, catching him in the shoulder of his sword arm as he was unable to reverse directions fast enough to stop me.

He stepped back, rubbing the divot between the meat of his shoulder and neck where I had hit him with my blunted blade. It was an unpleasant place for a bruise, but it would teach him to measure the force behind his blows. Faster was often preferable to harder with a saber.

I nodded sharply at him in acknowledgement, preferring to teach without words, and he raised his guard again. Before we could engage, he froze, eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. He dropped his blade, bowing his head.

I turned, teeth gritted as I already knew Lord Alasdar waited behind me.

“My lord,” I acknowledged, also inclining my head.

“Viper, I have need of you,” he announced before turning and striding away, not checking to see if I would follow.

I handed off my training saber to a nearby soldier and strode after him. He didn’t slow for me, but I refused to hurry my steps to catch up with him. I did lengthen my stride though.

“You must head to Clan Tibel at once,” he said without preamble.

“What of training the soldiers for a fortnight as you suggested yesterday?” I asked, trying to keep my tone free of any opinions on the matter.

“That was before the storm. We need to unite the clans sooner rather than later—before the desert tears herself apart.”

“Even if all the clans agree to an alliance within a week, we will be far from ready to attack Kelvadan,” I pointed out.

“It is not just a matter of invading Kelvadan, although that will certainly come,” Lord Alasdar explained, stopping at the edge of one of the many horse enclosures. Alza ambled toward the fence from where she had been munching from a trough. “It is an issue of survival. These disasters will only get worse. Storms, disease, bad hunting. There is a strength to be had in numbers if we are to endure long enough to obtain our goal.”

I reached out to Alza, letting her snuffle into my hand in favor of responding. Yesterday I had been anxious to leave, but now something urged me to stay. Maybe the thought of a woman riding off into the night who might come back. I shook the vision of her defiant gaze from my head, although it seemed intent on returning. The clash of swords had given me a brief reprieve from her image, but now my more idle brain brought her back.

“That storm last night was far from natural. The desert is so angry, it almost seems like she would turn her magic against us,” Lord Alasdar murmured, quietly enough that passing clansmen would not overhear.

I thanked my mask for keeping my expression hidden when my face spasmed. However, Lord Alasdar would know my thoughts all too well despite not being able to see my face. While the magic of the desert that pooled within me made it easy for me to manipulate the environment around me, Lord Alasdar’s gift focused easily on the magical energy of those around him. Especially on somebody with emotions as loud as mine. As much as Lord Alasdar tried to help me keep them in check, they always bubbled to the surface.

I had told him of the storms that accosted the desert when I lost my temper as a child—I’d run scared into the dunes as the lightning turned sand into glass around me, and I howled at the sky in confusion. While it had been many years since those days, the smell of magic in the air had assaulted me with memories last night.

When the first bolt of lightning struck, I almost thought I had been the one to summon it, but it didn’t come with the spine-tingling awareness of the desert spread around me. I had pushed that awareness into the depths of my soul for a decade now, fighting a losing battle against being swallowed whole by that immense force. Before the storm, I had been too busy falling into the gravity of two dark eyes full of flickering firelight to dredge up that power.

“It is a shame the sacrifice escaped. Maybe her blood would have been enough to slake the desert and assuage the storm,” I commented without feeling. After all, so many believed that the desert was angry simply because the unprecedented peace brought by Kelvadan deprived her of the blood she demanded.

“Or perhaps the storm interrupted the sacrifice as a sign that it will not be appeased by half measures,” Lord Alasdar speculated, watching me intently, as if he could see the truth in my movements.

“I will leave for Clan Tibel in the morning.”

I set out before the sun, riding in the opposite direction Keera had the night she escaped. I briefly wondered where she had gone, and if she had made it there, before turning my eyes to Alza’s ears in front of me. One was unlikely to survive very long in the wilderness with no supplies, and I found myself loathe to envision the grizzly end Keera would have met dying of exposure or thirst. Driving my saber into her throat would have saved her from suffering, and I didn’t know why I hadn’t done it.

Alza snorted, drawing my attention back to her. I patted her neck in reassurance. Normally even-tempered, even in the face of violence, she seemed skittish this morning. Perhaps the unnatural storm had spooked her.

At midday, I pulled her to a stop near a formation of rust-colored rocks, ready to take shelter in the shade for the hottest hour of the day. As I dismounted and walked toward a pile of boulders, she pawed at the sand, making it rise in small puffs around her forelegs. She didn’t follow me. I whistled for her, but Alza wouldn’t budge. I hadn’t put her on a lead rope since she was a foal, used to her following my direction without need for any tack or bridle, but now she acted like a willful colt, freshly caught from one of the roaming herds of the desert.

I was stomping toward her in annoyance when I caught the smell in the air. The earthy scent of magic, like the morning after a rare rain shower, had me on alert. I looked up just in time to see the source of the vibrating growl emanating from the rocks above me.

A ball of black fur leaped through the air, landing on Alza’s back. She screamed in pain, bucking as claws dug into her flesh, the attacking creature hissing and spitting in fury. My dirk flew into my hand as I lunged forward, trying to draw the creature’s attention without harming Alza.

My closed fist connected with silky fur as I just managed to skim the creature’s flank. It rounded on me, fixing me with glowing purple eyes. The sight stunned me enough that I barely had time to raise my dirk in defense before the cat-like animal pounced.

Claws slashed at my face, skittering across my mask with a nasty metallic screech. I let the momentum of the attack take me to the ground on my back, curling my legs into me before pushing them out, launching the creature over my head at the rock wall behind me .

It yelped as it hit the boulders with a crunch, but we both sprang to our feet, seemingly uninjured. I reached over my shoulder with my offhand, knowing my saber would give me the reach I needed to keep those claws and savage teeth at arm’s length.

The animal pounced again before I could fully draw my blade, but Alza leaped in the way, lashing out with powerful hooves. One caught the creature in the chest, knocking it back, but not before it viciously slashed her leg. Alza collapsed with a scream, foreleg buckling beneath her.

A growl tore from my throat, and I lunged forward, blade in each hand, to where the creature lay, belly up from my horse’s attack. Before it could right itself, I plunged my saber deep into the white spot in the center of its chest.

The metallic sent of blood joined the earthy magic in the air as the beast shuddered. It whined once before going still. The glowing light faded from its striking purple eyes, still open and staringly lifelessly at the sky.

I stared at the creature now that it was still, not having had a chance to take it in while it attacked. It was somewhere between a cat and dog in shape, its fur all black except for the white circle in the middle of its chest. It was the aura of magic I sensed, like an impending storm oozing off the body more than anything that convinced me of what I saw. I had killed a Sichat, a creature of legend said to steal the souls of the dead. As far as I knew, nobody had seen one since before the desert had been crossed. They had disappeared, along with all the other magical beasts, when the Heart of the Desert had been conquered by our ancestors who journeyed across desert to the ocean for the first time. Now, the desert was unbalanced, and the creatures rose once more.

A distressed whinny behind me tore my focus from the mythical creature. Alza struggled to get to her feet, injured foreleg straining to hold her weight. I rushed to my knees at her side, shushing her with a hand on her flank. She stopped trying to stand, but her muscles shook with tension beneath my palm.

Bending close, I examined the wound. Four slashes ran horizontally across the side of her leg, just below the knee, where the Sichat’s claws had torn her flesh. While the wounds were jagged, they didn’t appear to be deep. Her tendons would be unharmed.

I huffed in relief as well as disappointment. Alza would recover, but I wouldn’t risk her traveling for the rest of the day. I didn’t relish delaying our trip, as I hadn’t packed supplies for a longer solo mission. Lord Alasdar would certainly find a way to make me pay for not completing my task efficiently as well.

Alza’s eyes rolled in her head, and I grit my teeth, mind made up. I urged her to her feet. She favored her injured leg, but managed to stand. I untied the small number of packs from her back, slinging those over my shoulders instead.

Slowly, we walked along the edge of the cliff face in search of a shelter for the night. Alza didn’t complain, but I kept my hand on her neck, the trembling beneath her skin giving away her pain. Luckily, we happened across a break in the cliff face after a short walk. Leaving Alza outside, I pushed inside, blade drawn in caution.

The bones of dead animals littered the corners of the cave within, marking it as the lair of a predator, but it was currently unoccupied. I sensed I had recently killed the creature who had been living here. If not, I was confident that I was a more deadly predator than any that might return to their shelter.

I beckoned Alza inside after me, and she followed obediently. It took very little urging to get her to lay down on one side of the cave. While she rested, I busied myself with setting up a camp for the night, starting with building a fire near the entrance. I stoked it as hot as I could, sweating beneath my hood and vest.

Once the flames glowed blue where they licked the dry brush I used for kindling, I drew my dirk. I thrust it into the flames and held it there until the length glowed red. Turning to Alza with the heated blade before me, I approached quickly, not giving her the chance to panic. The whites of her eyes showed, but she stayed still until I pressed the flat of the blade against her torn flesh.

She bucked against me, but I laid my weight against her haunch as the fire did its work, stopping the bleeding and clearing any infection. As she fought me, I was only glad she did not have to inflict this process on herself as I had in the past .

When all four claw swipes across Alza’s foreleg were cauterized, she collapsed against the rocky cave floor, sweat dampening her sides and foam at the corners of her mouth. I gave her the water left in our large water bag, forgoing refilling my skin. She needed it more than me.

As she settled down to rest, I sat beside the fire, letting it dwindle down to embers. While the desert nights grew cold, I could easily rest beside Alza for warmth, with no need to burn the little brush in the area.

My hands drifted up to remove my mask now that I was alone, but I hesitated. The magic of the desert still drifted on the air, whispering under my skin and caressing my mind, tugging at the tightly knotted ball of magic living at the base of my skull. The feeling of being watched that accompanied the sensation gave me pause, like the magic would see me for who I was, and I would be lost to the madness in my mind.

Without removing my mask or gloves, I laid down next to Alza, facing the entrance of the cave with my saber in hand.

Come dawn, Alza’s wounds looked improved, but she still favored her injured leg when she walked. One more day and we would be able to travel again. I would have to go out to hunt and gather water to account for our delay.

I strapped on my dirk and saber, wrapping my hood securely around my head and shoulders before stepping out onto the baked earth outside the cave. I turned my face up to the sky and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. As much as the feeling of magic that lingered after the appearance of the Sichat made me wary, I knew it could guide me to supplies as well. The creature wouldn’t have lingered here if there was no water source nearby. I assumed even beasts of myth needed water.

I let my feet carry me away from the rocky formations forming the cliff-face behind me, out into open land. A shadow passed over my vision, and I looked up to find a falcon gliding overhead. It passed by me before wheeling in several circles and descending in the distance.

I followed its path to a rough well, the kind often dug by herds of roaming horses with their sharp hooves. As I approached, a light tinkle grabbed my attention.

The falcon I had seen before stood at the edge of the watering hole, a black-tailed jackrabbit limp in its claws. It hopped forward, and the jingling sounded again. I cocked my head at the bell tied to the hawk’s leg, marking it as a hunting animal. Perhaps I was closer to Clan Tibel’s encampment than I thought, or maybe a hunting party had ventured far from camp. After all, game was growing sparse, and Clan Katal’s hunters roamed farther afield to feed our numbers.

Before I could investigate further, the falcon took to the air with its prize. I noted the direction it had gone before turning to the well before me. Tracks in the muddy ground, indicating this water source was frequented by local wildlife, told me it was safe to drink from. I filled the large water bag as well as my own skin before slinging both across my back and turning back to the rocky cliff where Alza waited.

Not yet a quarter of the way back, a cloud of dust on the horizon to the left drew my attention. I squinted, trying to gauge the distance to the cloud. If I hurried, I could make it back to the shelter of the cave before the sandstorm reached me. Just about to break into a jog, I stopped, catching sight of the distinctive shadows of horses in the haze of dust. It was no storm, but riders approached.

I dropped my burden of water to the ground, drawing my saber from across my back. Out here in the wilds, approaching hunters were rarely friendly. As the thundering of hooves on sun baked dirt grew louder, the glint of sharpened steel in the sunlight, blades held aloft, revealed that the riders felt the same about my presence.

They formed a wedge shape, the leader charging at me with a sword pointed forward like a spear, ready to skewer me like a wild boar. I stayed still, sword drawn at my side. Even though my eyes stayed open, the world blurred around me, sensations narrowing to the vibrations of approaching hoofbeats beneath my boots and the trembling of magic connecting me to every grain of sand in the desert, nearly overwhelming if I hadn’t learned to block out most of the feeling.

I didn’t move until the riders were a horse length away, but then launched myself into the air, my leap bolstered by threads of magic. Not expecting my move, the leader didn’t have time to raise his sword as I flew over his head, twisting in midair to land on his mount behind him. The hilt of my saber connected with the side of his skull with a crack, and he slid off the broad back. The flame of his life in the magical landscape snuffed out as the horses trampled him. I nearly winced at the sudden extinguishing of light, but the roar of battle already overtook my mind.

The horse beneath me dug in its hooves, bucking and skidding to a halt at the change in weight, realizing his master was no longer the one on his back. I squeezed my thighs around his middle to stay on even as my hands busied themselves holding my sword and pulling my dirk from my belt.

I reached a tendril of magic out to the horse’s mind, calming it—a relatively simple task given that the magic of the desert ran strong in horses as well. I had inherited a touch of influence with horses alongside the rest of my power. The stallion calmed under me, and I leaned my weight, wheeling him back around to charge at the other riders who had scattered upon the leader’s demise.

I wove between them, swinging my saber and dirk on either side, bodies of my foes slipping to the earth as blood coated my blades. My breath came in humid pants through the metal holes of my mask. With each life that I silenced, the voices in my head grew until they screamed so loud, I felt my skull would split open.

A screech of power cut above the rest, and I whipped around just in time to dodge a whip of fire lashing out from the hands of one of the last remaining riders. Such power was rare outside of clan lords or their warlords. Still, it was no match for mine.

With a clench of my fist, the flames that danced in the rider’s palm extinguished. He shook his hand as if trying to resummon his advantage. It was too late. I flicked my wrist, sending my dirk flying across the space between us. With a wet thud, it embedded itself right below his breastbone. The rider let out a gurgling gasp and began to slip sideways from his mount. I didn’t watch, instead turning away to face the rest of the riders.

I wheeled around, looking for my next opponent, only to find a littering of slumped forms on the sand surrounded by frightened horses. I growled, ready to fell another fighter but none approached. Still, my instincts screamed for blood, a cacophony clamoring in my head, awoken by my use of magic in the fight and begging for more.

I slid off my mount, unsteady on my feet, and fell to my knees. My vision cleared enough for me to focus on the sight of my saber, shining crimson in the harsh sun. Methodically, I wiped the blood of my felled enemies on the sand, offering the desert the lives I had taken.

The voices in my head quieted from a scream to a whisper to a rare moment of silence as the sands drank up my sacrifice. All the clansmen’s lives belonged to the desert, and she begged me to return them to her. I exhaled heavily as the constant threat of madness retreated.

The desert always screamed at me, as if she wanted me to do something, find something, destroy something. She only quieted to a whisper for a short while after the rush of battle had abated, and I assumed I had given her what she wanted. At least, that was Lord Alasdar’s thought, and he knew more secrets of the desert than most. He alone had discovered the truth of why the desert was angry and had been able to teach me how to control my magic. I would follow his wisdom.

A jingle broke the new fallen silence, drawing my attention to the falcon I had seen earlier. It hopped around one of the fallen riders as if waiting for instruction or expecting him to lift his arm so he could perch. I rose from my knees and walked over to the body.

The blue sash around his waist, fastened with a silver pin, embossed with a snarling hyena, declared him a warrior of Clan Tibel. I recognized him as the one who had tried to burn me with a whip of magical fire. A small shard of blood glass, known to enhance the bearer’s magic, glimmered on a cord around his neck, explaining some of the strength of his power. He had come to the fight prepared. It seemed Clan Tibel expected my arrival, and I was not welcome. This attack was a message, and I would send one in return.

With a decisive slash of my saber, I severed the warrior’s head from his lifeless body. The falcon squawked in alarm and fluttered a few feet away as the blade hit the sand next to it. Still, it watched me with a cocked head as I lifted the severed head by the hair, more blood dripping onto the already stained sand. I carried it over to the horse lingering nearby, clearly at a loss without his master.

The mounts bore no saddlebags, signaling we were not far from Clan Tibel’s camp. They would carry my messages back to their home. The riders had been sent to tell me their clan would not bargain. The return of their heads would tell Clan Tibel that the Viper did not compromise.

When I arrived back at the cave where Alza rested, she whickered and greeted me at the entrance. I tried to brush her away, not wanting her to put weight on her leg if it wasn’t healed yet, but she snuffled her nose against my clothes, smelling blood and seemingly giving me a once over to make sure it wasn’t mine. I gently pushed her head away to unstrap the water bags from my back. That seemed to placate her, and she quickly turned her attention to the water, drinking deeply and noisily as I held it for her. I took the opportunity to watch how she stood. She carried her weight easily on all four legs, not avoiding the injured one. While the flesh looked angry and blistered where I had cauterized it, the wounds hadn’t been deep, and it seemed it would carry her fine.

Now that I knew we were so close to Clan Tibel’s camp, there was no need to delay longer. I began packing up our small camp, tying saddlebags together and making sure our fire was completely extinguished. As I approached Alza with our supplies, a tinkling caught my attention.

I whirled toward the cave entrance, dropping my burden, hands flying to the hilts of my weapons. Standing in the cave entrance was the falcon from earlier. It hopped toward me inquisitively, and I frowned.

It had taken flight as I sent the horses back in the direction they had come with a sharp tap to their flanks, each bearing the severed head of their former rider. I assumed it would make its way back to the encampment with them to be cared for by somebody else. After all, a well-trained hunting falcon could be useful for catching small prey, especially when oryx became scarcer by the day.

Instead, the bird fluttered toward me, and I instinctively held out my arm. It landed on me without further prompting, the leather gloves I wore over my tunic protecting me from the worst of its talons. I inspected the bell tied to its leg, pondering removing it and turning it free. As the bird jumped farther up my arm and made a low kack, I exhaled heavily through my nose.

This fellow was too domesticated to survive long in the desert, clearly seeing me as a friend and not a threat. If he would follow me regardless, I wouldn’t chase him away. Perhaps I would even enjoy a little more fresh meat on my travels if I could learn how to fly him.

For now, I lowered my arm toward a pile of rocks, twisting it until he jumped off so I could finish packing up. Once my minimal supplies were secured to Alza’s back, I led her out of the cave with a hand on her neck. If Clan Tibel was close, I could afford to walk alongside her and rest her leg.

The falcon fluttered toward us, attempting to alight on Alza’s neck, but she tossed her head and snorted at the feel of talons on her skin. Next, he tried to perch on my shoulders, hooks digging through the material of my vest and robe. I winced at the weight and the pinch of him trying to grip me.

Carefully, I lifted him from his perch and set him on top of one of the packs of supplies on Alza’s back. He settled there, ruffling his feathers a few times before deciding it was an adequate perch. With that, I led us in the direction that Clan Tibel’s riders had come from.