Mirage

by Jenn Reese

  Scorch grinned, looking like a hunter with a fat catch.

  Tayan’s back hooves shifted, but in the end, she bowed. “A fair compromise, High Khan.”

  “If you think we’re going to give ourselves to her,” Aluna said, glaring at Scorch, “then think again.”

  “If you do not arrive at the Thunder Trials, then Shining Moon will bear the punishment for your dishonor,” the High Khan said.

  “I will execute the Aviar in front of all the herds,” Scorch said. “That will make up for this ludicrous”— she looked at the High Khan and paused —“this understandable delay. But if the winged girl is not there, then I’ll make do with killing Shining Moon. One Equian for each of the girl’s feathers seems fair. . . .”

  “The prisoners will be there,” Tayan said quickly. “You have my word.”

  The High Khan nodded. “Then go. Tell your father that by the Thunder Trials, Shining Moon should be ready for war. I am counting on his swords, his arrows, and his falcons.”

  “Oh, I will,” Tayan said quietly, and bowed low before the High Khan. Hoku wondered if he was the only one who could hear the hint of dissent in her voice.

  Their guard from earlier, Borte, motioned for Tayan to follow him. She paused to speak to Dash. “Dashiyn of the Shining Moon, you have knowingly broken your exile and returned to the desert. Do you acknowledge this?”

  Dash looked up at her. “I do.”

  “And you will come willingly to face your judgment?”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  Tayan stomped a foot. “Then I see no need for restraints. Bring your friends and follow me. We leave the city immediately.” She walked past him, then past Borte and down the ramp.

  Dash looked at Hoku, his dark eyes questioning.

  “Yes, of course,” Hoku said. “Calli, do you need help?”

  She gave him a weak smile. “No, I’m fine. I’m looking forward to open air.”

  Hoku turned and found Aluna staring at Scorch from less than a meter away.

  “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me,” Aluna said to her.

  Scorch chuckled. “I certainly hope not.”

  Hoku saw the talon weapons in Aluna’s hands and whispered quickly, “Not here. Not now.” He knew that the Kampii artifact in his throat would send the words directly to the device in her ears.

  She didn’t react at first. Her gaze stayed stuck on Scorch. But eventually she nodded and stepped away — though she wouldn’t turn her back entirely, not with Strand’s clone so close.

  Hoku gave one last look at Scorch. Now he could see her resemblance to the Karl Strand from the ancient photo. Her brown hair was the same length as his, her chin the same shape. Strand’s other clone, Fathom, had said the cloning process was imperfect, that all the clones came out a little different from Karl. Well, Scorch had come out female and smart. A lot smarter than Fathom. That made her a lot more dangerous, too.

  Once Hoku made sure Aluna was really headed down the ramp and wasn’t planning some sort of surprise attack, he followed. As they descended, the thick, choking smoke of the weapon forgers swallowed them up. Despite the smell, he was grateful for its protection. He wanted to be as far away from Scorch as possible. The entire desert might not be far enough.

  At Mirage’s gate, Borte handed them packs of dried cactus strips and water skins only a quarter filled. From what Hoku had seen of Mirage, it was a generous offer.

  “May the sun guide you,” Borte said as they affixed their headgear.

  Tayan clapped him on the shoulder and said quietly, “Stay strong, Brother Red Sky. This isn’t over.”

  Borte’s back hoof stomped, but he said nothing.

  And then they were through the dome scanner and back outside the city. The heat hit Hoku like a dolphin tail full in the face. He staggered and was tempted to head back inside, at least for another hour or two. But then Calli jumped into the air, unfurled her wings, and flew. A smile spread across her face, and although she didn’t laugh, Hoku could tell she wanted to.

  “Thank you for getting us out,” Aluna said to Tayan. “I’m in your debt for that.”

  “You are welcome,” Tayan said. “I would leave no person in the grasp of that woman, if I could help it. Nor with our High Khan while he listens to her counsel.”

  Aluna nodded. “We’re heading back to HydroTek. We need to talk to the Aviars and our people, the Kampii, and figure out what to do next. We wanted to get here before Scorch, but we obviously failed. I’m not sure what our next move should be.”

  “You will come to the home of Shining Moon,” Tayan said easily. It occurred to Hoku that with her horse body, she probably weighed more than the rest of them combined. “I gave my word that you would attend the Thunder Trials, and Dashiyn must stand trial. I thought I made myself clear.”

  Aluna stopped walking. “You said that to get us out.”

  “No,” Tayan countered. “Everything I said was true.” The Equian seemed untroubled by Aluna’s growing agitation. Hoku felt his shoulders tense. After everything, he might still see blood today.

  “We have no intention of being your prisoners,” Aluna said gravely. “If you want us, you’re going to have to take us.”

  There it was. The ultimatum. Hoku tried to signal Calli to fly back down. He wanted her by his side for whatever happened next. She waved and smiled. Clearly, his signaling skills needed work.

  But it was Dash who spoke next, his voice as calm as ever. “Aluna, I have given my word to go with Tayan and abide by herd law, and Tayan has given her word that you will appear at the Thunder Trials. I am asking you, as a friend, to come with me. We will talk with Khan Arasen of Shining Moon and come up with a plan.”

  He touched Aluna’s hand. “Please,” he said. “Do not give up on the desert yet.”

  But Hoku heard the words he was really saying: Do not give up on me.

  Aluna must have heard them, too. She stared at Dash, then sighed. “Okay. We’ll go. We’ll fight. We’ll find some way to win.”

  AS TAYAN LED THEM deeper into the desert, Aluna looked back and watched Mirage flicker briefly before it disappeared, hidden once again by its ancient tech. The city hadn’t been the bastion of food and culture — and soft beds — that they’d been expecting. She frowned, remembering Dash’s expression when he’d seen the marketplace transformed into a factory of war. How could High Khan Onggur force his people to work for a fight that wasn’t even his own?

  The High Khan said Karl Strand was giving them tech, had even promised to bring water to the desert. Maybe Onggur saw an alliance as the only way to help his people. Aluna needed to show him and the rest of the Equians that there were other options. Better options. Options that didn’t involve letting Karl Strand and his clones run the world.

  When they finally stopped for the night, Aluna and Hoku started gathering twigs for the fire. They didn’t need the flames for warmth, but Calli and Dash did. And besides, she’d grown accustomed to the crackle of dried wood, the smell of smoke, and the way the flames pulled everyone’s faces out of the darkness.

  Dash and Calli went looking for food. They’d proven a highly efficient team during the last few weeks, what with Calli’s wings and keen eyesight and Dash’s ability to know what bizarre desert plants and animals were actually edible. Dash could eat a much wider variety of things than the rest of them could, thanks to the SandTek ancients having given him a superstrong stomach, but he was good at finding things for all of them now.

  Now that Dash was finally away from camp, Aluna saw her chance to get some answers. Tayan knelt on one knobby horse leg by the fire circle and began arranging the kindling with practiced ease. Aluna dropped a bunch of scrub brush by Tayan’s side.

  “So, you and your herd exiled Dash. Why? Just because he was born different? Because he doesn’t have hooves?” She’d wanted to remain calm, but could hear the pitch of her voice rising anyway. “He risked everything to come back here and help you, and you’re going to thank him by putt
ing him on trial?”

  Tayan stopped her work and stared. Her blue eyes reminded Aluna of an overcast sky. “Is that what you think? Is that what he told you?” Her tail swished. “Dash’s exile had nothing to do with his status as aldagha. Shining Moon are not barbarians. We do not exile or kill our own people. Not without good reason.” She shook her head as if she had a horse’s mane instead of hair under a head wrap.

  “If you’ve got a good reason, then I want to hear it,” Aluna said. “If you want our help, then you need to win us over. Because right now, I may want Karl Strand dead, but I am not on your side.”

  “None of us are,” Hoku said, dumping his small contribution of twigs near the smoldering fire.

  Tayan looked across the darkening horizon in the direction Dash and Calli had gone. “Very well,” she said. “I will tell you quickly, because despite what you may think, I do not wish to cause Dashiyn further dishonor.” The Equian motioned to the fire, and Aluna sat, grateful for the chance to rest her legs. Hoku flopped down beside her with a grunt.

  Tayan stoked the fire with a long stick. “Perhaps you know this already, but the Equians are not alone in the desert. The SandTek ancients created not one race but two — ours, and the half-Human, half-snake people called Serpenti.”

  “Snake people!” Hoku said. “We saw one at HydroTek. He was one of Fathom’s prisoners.”

  Aluna remembered him from the cages, and later from the battle. He’d worn gold hoop earrings, and his long, dark hair had been half shorn to nothing by Fathom for one of his experiments. “That man fought bravely against Fathom’s army. We had no idea where to send his body.”

  “I hope you sent it to the ever-dark,” Tayan said coldly. “Oh, the Serpenti can fight. Their whole bodies are weapons, from the strength and reach of their tails to the poison hidden in their fangs. The SandTek ancients must have thought we could live together, share resources, perhaps even help one another. They were wrong.”

  Aluna gestured to the dusty flats surrounding them. “This place is huge, and you still fought over it?”

  “The desert is vast, but water and food are scarce, and growing harder to find every year,” Tayan said. “Why do you think the High Khan would even consider this alliance with Strand and his clones? Because the promise of water is too great a temptation. When your people begin to wither, you will do anything to save them.

  “Performance in the Thunder Trials determines how many foals each herd may birth in the following year. Win more honors, and your herd grows. In this way, our strongest bloodlines prosper and our weakest slowly diminish. Over the last few years, the High Khan has doubled the birthing rights granted to each herd, but our numbers do not increase. Fewer foals survive the birth chambers, and among those that do, there are more aldagha. More mistakes.”

  Aluna was already tired of hearing that word. It made her heart ache.

  “Your tech is broken. Or breaking,” Hoku said. “Maybe you just need to fix it.”

  “Which Karl Strand has offered to do,” Tayan said solemnly. “Do you see now the position we are in?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t keep fighting with the Serpenti, you’d have more people,” Aluna said bitterly. “Try making a few friends instead of going to war with everyone.”

  “Do you want to hear about Dashiyn or not?” Tayan asked coldly.

  Aluna swallowed her anger. It felt like a fire in her gut, but she managed to control it. “Go on.”

  “As I have stated, war with the Serpenti was inevitable. When it came, it was bloody and terrible, and we were losing. We would have been utterly destroyed if our great heroes Altan and Chabi had not challenged the Serpenti to an honor duel in the Valley of the Dead. They defeated the Serpenti khans — whom the snake people called pharos — but were poisoned in the process. Both heroes died not long after.”

  “Just for once, I’d like to hear a story where the heroes don’t die,” Hoku grumbled.

  “We crushed the Serpenti after that,” Tayan said. “A few of them escaped into the desert, and we vowed to hunt them down, every last one, and put an end to the violence — and to the Venom War — forever.” She paused and stared down at her front hooves for a moment before continuing. “We searched for the remaining Serpenti for years, and eventually Shining Moon managed to capture two of the beasts. One died during questioning, but we had high hopes of interrogating the second, of finally discovering the location of their hidden stronghold. We feared that they were planning another war, and we wanted to end it before it began.”

  “This is interesting, but I don’t see what it has to do with Dash,” Aluna said. She didn’t like where this story was going. She didn’t want Dash to have anything to do with the Serpenti or the Venom War.

  “You will,” Tayan said grimly. “The information we got from the prisoners would have brought great honor to Shining Moon. We would have been awarded greater birthing rights at the Thunder Trials. Our herd would have thrived. But when Khan Arasen, my father, went to interrogate the remaining prisoner, the Serpenti was gone — along with a crate of medical supplies needed by our own people.”

  Her accusation hung there, like smoke over the fire. Aluna thought she might choke on it.

  “The Serpenti escaped,” Aluna said finally. “That’s the only explanation. All this time, you’ve been persecuting Dash for something he didn’t even do. I bet it was easy to blame someone you were already calling a mistake.”

  “Which is exactly what I said to my father,” Tayan said. “Only . . . Dashiyn admitted to the whole thing. He admitted to stealing the medicine, freeing the prisoner, and directly lending aid to our mortal enemies. We did not even have to ask him. He sought an audience with the khan and told us everything without prompting.”

  If Tayan was right, then Dash was a traitor. Aluna put her face in her hands. She wanted to scream at Tayan, to call her a liar and force her to retract what she’d said. But she knew Tayan wasn’t a liar. Based on just the few hours since they’d met, Aluna would have staked her life on that.

  The fire flickered in a sudden gust of wind. Aluna looked up and saw Calli swooping down for a landing, her tawny wings wide to slow her descent, her arms full of cactuses. Dash was still a way off, jogging back with two scrawny rabbits swinging from one hand.

  She’d ask him about all of this. She’d listen to his side. The Dash she knew was honorable. He’d never betray his own people. Then again, it did explain why he’d been unwilling to talk about his exile before now. And why he sometimes seemed to be filled with equal parts regret and self-hate.

  Maybe this time she didn’t really want the truth at all.

  HOKU WAS STILL GNAWING on his last piece of grilled cactus when Tayan stood near the flames and cleared her throat. The sky covered them all in blackness. It wasn’t the thick, cozy dark of the ocean at night, but it comforted him all the same. And he liked being able to see the stars.

  “I think Tayan’s going to tell a story,” Aluna whispered. “I remember Dash telling us about this, about how the Equians tell stories all night long, trying to coax the sun back into the sky.”

  “All night?” Calli asked. “When do they sleep?”

  “They take turns, but they don’t have to sing all night if there are only a few of them,” Aluna said. “I just hope we don’t have to join in. After today’s march, I could sleep like a whale.”

  Hoku looked across the fire at Dash. He hadn’t spoken much since he’d been taken prisoner in Mirage. Hoku couldn’t even imagine what dark thoughts were filling his head. If only Aluna would go sit next to him and ask him what was wrong. But no. Aluna respected him too much to pry. And Dash respected her too much to heap his problems on her. Hoku glanced over at Calli. She looked back at him and smiled, and his insides warmed.

  Aluna and Dash were clearly doing it wrong. Although to be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure what he and Calli were doing right. There was a lot of smiling and blushing and talking and occasionally some hand-holding. For now, that was all
he needed.

  Tayan started to speak. It was some sort of ritual calling to the missing sun. Hoku loved the way her voice got loud and high, then sank back lower and softer, pulling him in just like a wave. She stomped her hooves in the sand — sometimes just one or two, sometimes all four in quick succession — creating a rhythm that mesmerized him. When she began her first story, he forgot about their terrible day in Mirage. He forgot about all the sand and dirt caked to his skin. He even forgot about Scorch and High Khan Onggur and the long journey still ahead of them.

  All he could do was listen.

  Listen. Listen. To the sand, to the moon. Listen. Listen.

  Chabi was the last of her herd. Not the smartest. Not the strongest. Not the sleekest. Not the fastest. Chabi was the last Flame Heart.

  She buried her kin. Buried her sire. Mourned her dam. They were killed by Snakes in the dark while fire blazed, killed while the word-weavers called to the sun, killed while the warriors slept. With knives and with poison they were killed. Vile Snakes. Venom-filled. Under the dark of no moon.

  Chabi ran until her feet caught fire, until her coat bled flames, until anger burned her heart. Chabi was the last of her herd.

  Listen. Listen.

  Altan was the last of his herd. Not the smartest. Not the strongest. Not the sleekest. Not the fastest. Altan was the last Wind Seeker.

  He buried his kin. Buried his dam. Mourned his sire. They were killed by another herd in bright of day, on the field of war, on the clean white sand. Killed for their food. Killed for their foals. Red Sky took them. Claimed them. Grew stronger with their blood. Under the warm light, under the sun.

  Altan ran until his feet froze, until his coat turned to ice, until his heart turned blue. Altan was the last of his herd.

  Chabi and Altan ran. They ran for years. They ran for decades. They tried to outrun their pain. But no one runs faster than war.

  Listen. Listen.

  The Snakes came in numbers greater than the stars. Vile venom-vipers. Tail bashing, sword slashing. The sands turned red. The sands burned red. Khans fell. Herds died. No more Whispering Gait. Farewell, Golden Bow.