“Did Saralhn make it?” Lhaurel asked, steadying herself and letting go of his hand.
“Who?”
“The girl we saved.”
“I don’t know.”
It would have been worth it if she’d saved Saralhn.
Something large passed in front of the sun. A creature of talons and feathers plummeted toward the earth, a streak of mottled brown and grey and yellow.
Lhaurel shrieked in a combination of surprise and awe as the creature spread its wings and reared in the air.
Clouds of dust sprang up beneath the creature’s powerful wings. With an ear-shattering cry, the creature extended massive, taloned feet and alighted on the ground, standing with its head easily a span above Lhaurel’s.
The man walked up to it and gently stroked the mottled plumage.
The creature’s wings raked back in a sickle shape on either side of its long body. Black orbs, deep, dark pools of intelligence, studied her over the top of a hooked yellow beak.
The majesty took Lhaurel’s breath away and, for a moment, at least, made her pains somewhat lessened.
“This is Skree-lar,” he said, holding out a hand.
For the first time, Lhaurel noticed the leather harness buckled around the bird’s torso.
“And it really is time we left here.”
As if to accentuate his words, the high-pitched wail of a sailfin pack ripped through the air.
The man didn’t wait for Lhaurel to respond. He seized her by the arm and dragged her over to the bird. She had completely underestimated the danger of this unknown man. His grip was strong, but she resisted despite the pain, and he stopped pulling immediately.
She glanced to one side, contemplating making a run for it.
He followed her gaze. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said, glancing out over the rolling dunes with narrowed eyes. “You can come with me and take a chance at living or stay here and welcome certain death. And it seems a pity, really, for you to have chosen to come with me already just to hesitate when confronted with something out of the ordinary.”
He vaulted up onto Skree-lar’s back, the bird having hunkered down into the sand so he could do so. His hands moved in a blur as he took leather leads from the harness and attached them to rings hidden in his robes. That done, he again reached down and offered her a hand.
Lhaurel hesitated. She could run and try to make it on her own. If she made it into the warren the Sidena called home, she could lose the sailfins and then try and make it to the Oasis on her own once that pack had passed. She dismissed that plan almost immediately. She wasn’t about to brave the sands on her own with the genesauri loose. It was the same reason she hadn’t left to join the outcasts, the same reason she’d never simply run away. She feared the sands and the demons they contained. She hesitated a moment longer.
A moment too long. The man lost his patience and seized her arm, pulling her up behind him as if she were no heavier than a small child. Just as she landed, the sand ruptured and spewed out a geyser of sand, and a sailfin burst into the air.
“Hold on!” the man shouted, and he gave a sharp, whistling trill.
The bird spread its wings and launched into the air.
Lhaurel awkwardly seized the man around the waist, feeling hard muscles beneath the cloth of his robes. She found herself blushing furiously and berated herself silently at the foolishness of it all. What was she? A girl or a woman?
All further thought was blown from her mind as the bird drove its wings downward in a single, powerful stroke that pushed it higher into the air.
The sailfin gave chase, sinuous serpentine body twisting into the sky as if it were swimming through the air. A row of black dots extending backward from the corner of the jaw seemed to crackle and spark the higher it rose into the air. Twice as long and almost as thick as the bird she rode, the sailfin’s scream grew to a frenzied, cacophonous pitch.
Lhaurel wanted to scream, wanted to will the bird to fly faster, fly higher, but the sailfin matched the bird’s beating wings surge for surge. Another sailfin burst out of the sand, flying upward. Two more followed, then half a dozen more a few seconds later.
The man swore under his breath and urged the bird onward with his hands and another pattern of whistle bursts.
The original sailfin was gaining on them. It was only a few inches away from the bird’s gleaming talons, jaws agape as if it would attempt to swallow them all in one bite. Lhaurel looked down into the creature’s gullet, seeing rotting flesh and yellow-stained teeth as long as her hand.
Skree-lar flapped harder, its wing beats strong and shallow, yet stiff and uncomfortable.
Fear tightened Lhaurel’s grip at the man’s waist.
Suddenly, the sailfin seemed to fall away.
An awful sound filled the air like bone scraping against rock. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was the man laughing, distorted by the wind. If her hands hadn’t been locked around his waist, feeling the rise and fall of every wheeze, she wouldn’t have believed it.
“How can you laugh at a time like this?” she asked, swallowing a mouthful of dust and sand that left her in a fit of coughs. Her pains returned as the adrenaline and fear faded.
By way of response, the man gestured down. The sailfins hovered nearly four spans below them, stationary in the sky except for the strange undulations that made up their normal movements. With each beat of Skree-lar’s wings, Lhaurel was taken higher. The genesauri remained where they were. One of them seemed to swim upward toward them but only wriggled in place. It hissed, a high-pitched, grating sound, and then the pack turned and dove back into the sand. Scores of dorsal fins rose up out of the sand as the others descended into it, the rest of the pack welcoming back its companions.
“Why aren’t they following us?” Lhaurel shouted, keeping her mouth close to his shoulder to avoid the dust and wind.
“Look!” he shouted, gesturing.
Lhaurel glanced where he pointed and then turned her whole head to take in the sight. A handful of the massive birds of prey, riders on their backs bearing long, metal spears, sped along the desert floor. High above them, more of the creatures bearing riders circled in complicated aerial patterns. Light glinted off the ends of spears clutched in the riders’ hands. With shrieks that rent the air, the birds and their riders descended upon the sailfin pack.
Who were these strangers? She’d never seen so many Roterralar before—in fact, she’d never seen nor heard of more than one being in the same place at any given time, nor had she ever heard anything, even legends, about these mysterious bird-warriors.
“That’s why. Now shut up and hold on!”
Lhaurel started to reply angrily, but then a sudden thought struck the barb from her lips. She was flying on the back of a giant bird!
She looked down again, taking in the dunes, the violent struggle of life and death going on beneath her, the dizzying height. Over a hundred spans in the air, her only support was the man to whom she clung and Skree-lar’s broad back. It was a moment of fearful wonder that she couldn’t fully fathom. Her grip tightened even further around the man’s waist.
They climbed high into the air, wheeling to the northeast and keeping the sun to their right. The sight and sounds of battle passed from her view. The man guided the bird with a few tugs on the harness and the occasional odd pattern of whistles.
Lhaurel was fascinated by the ride, though it was far from comfortable. The stiff wing beats brushed up against her already sunbaked thighs, and her skin was being torn at by the rushing wind and sand. Yet all discomfort vanished each time that she glanced down toward the ground. Sand stretched as far as the eye could see, rolling and cresting in endless waves. Even during the periods of safety when the genesauri hibernated beneath the sand, the desert was a constantly changing labyrinth of dunes, sand, and death for several thousand spans around the Oasis. Some of the dune fields moved over fifty spans in the course of the months that the genesauri slept, making them impossible
to map.
The ground was firmer, less sandy, from the cave-filled plateaus the Rahuli people called warrens outward to the Forbiddence, the massive, grey-brown stone mountains that rose as sheer cliffs in a perfect circle around the Sharani desert. Full of scraggy bushes and cracked earth baked hard over eons of constant heat, the plains there were generally safe from the genesauri, but there was little food to be found. And absolutely no water.
It was an intimidating yet awe-inspiring sight. She glanced southward, back toward the shallow cliffs where her clan held refuge during the Dormancy. She wondered again if Saralhn had made it to the stoneways safely. Skree-lar banked to the left, compensating for a sudden gust of wind that took him off course.
The thrill that ran through her had nothing to do with fear. This was freedom. To pass through the skies, move through the limitless currents of space—it defied reason and time. It was exhilarating. Pure, unadulterated joy.
The man let out a series of whistles and clicks, and Skree-lar banked to the left even more. Far on the horizon, massive cliffs reared up against the sky. Lhaurel peered toward them, ignoring the searing sun on her flesh and the fine grit of sand that cut into it and irritated her many cuts and bruises. The cliffs seemed to pierce the sky, thrusting upwards, striving to meet the clouds, almost as tall as the Forbiddence. The sides of the cliff were straight. Sheer. Impenetrable.
Within moments, they were circling the massive plateau, dropping incrementally closer and closer toward the top of the stone.
“Brace yourself,” the man shouted against the wind.
Lhaurel laughed in exhilaration, her overwhelming emotions lending a note of hysteria to her actions.
Skree-lar screamed a note of answering joy as it flared its wings a few spans from the stony surface, pinion feathers bending backward with each stroke of its wings, tail curling inward, slowing it further. Talons stretched outward, grasped onto stone. They slammed forward with the force of the landing.
Unprepared, Lhaurel almost knocked the red-robed man from Skree-lar’s back, but the man had braced himself as he had admonished her to do. Instead of knocking him free, her grip around him suddenly loosed, and she tumbled free of the bird’s broad back, rolling down one wing and sprawling in the rock, afire with pain. She picked herself back up again with a curse, checking the new cuts and bruises that now graced her sun-scorched flesh and crisscrossed other, less recent injuries. The euphoria of flight faded in a wave of dull, aching pain. The cut on her left wrist dripped a steady stream of blood onto the deep, red rock. It mingled with the dust there, making a slurry of reddish paste.
The man looked down at her for a moment, an odd expression on his face, and then his mouth split into a grin, and he started laughing. It was a deep, throaty laugh, full of mirth, though dusted with something aloof and condescending, simultaneously different from and similar to his earlier wheeze.
“What are you laughing at?” she demanded, her annoyance burning away the pain and soreness that had been threatening to take her to her knees up until that moment.
She had definitely passed her breaking point, being so confrontational. Cruel experience had taught her to hide her emotions as best she could. An emotional explosion like this back with the Sidena would have earned her a whipping. She was loath to live through one of those again.
The man stopped laughing but grinned at her, hopping down from Skree-lar’s back.
The bird screeched and shambled off across the stone a short distance. It was far less graceful on the ground than it was in the air.
The Roterralar walked up to her, stopping only a few feet away. He was barely as tall as she, but his suddenly iron visage made him seem all the more imposing. “I am the man who saved you. I have every right to laugh when I please. There is so little humor left in our world, Lhaurel, that I take the opportunity when I can.”
Lhaurel took a half step back from the intensity of his words and the sudden light that flashed in his grey eyes.
He matched her step, keeping his gaze locked onto hers. “You didn’t have to catch the sword. I could have saved the girl on my own, but you had to go and take the sword yourself. Ask yourself why. A decision like that doesn’t just happen. You already chafed at their rules and traditions. You have to live with the results of you own actions.”
Her temper flared at being called a fool. If he could have done it on his own, then why had he offered her the sword? Why hadn’t he simply done what he, as a man, was supposed to do and protect the women and children of the clan? It was obvious. He’d done it to see what she would do. It angered her even more knowing that he was right. She felt, ironically enough, as foolish as a Roterralar suffering from the sun fevers. She’d wanted to fit in, but the things she wanted—desires originally inspired by the outcasts, of all people—were incompatible with the lives the Sidena lived. And as much as she wanted to be a part of something, to not feel alone anymore, she didn’t want to be a part of that.
“Did she live, at least?” Lhaurel asked. She knew she’d already asked the Roterralar, but she had to know.
The man shrugged. “I saw her get out of the warren, but I didn’t follow them to the Oasis. I had other things to attend to.” Lhaurel felt a moment of pride and satisfaction rush through her. At least her actions had meant something.
“What is your name, anyway?” she asked, only then realizing she didn’t know it. She simply thought of him as “the man,” or “the Roterralar,” as she’d always called the red-robed fanatics that wandered into the warrens.
The man smiled again, spreading his hands wide.
“I am of the sands and stones. I am he of the aevians, a warrior of the sands and metal that make up our world, a man of the Rahuli people.”
Lhaurel glared at him. Pain dampened what little patience she had left.
His smile widened. “They call me Kaiden. And I am sorry for this.”
He nodded, and before Lhaurel could move, rough hands grabbed her from behind. Something was placed over her mouth and nose, a cloth of some sort that smelled of the small purple flowers that grew in the Oasis. She struggled, but the grip around her shoulders and neck was simply too strong. Her muscles grew weak, and her eyelids grew heavy. She blinked rapidly and tried to scream, but all that came out was a ragged moan.
Behind Kaiden, Skree-lar clicked his beak and made a soft chirping noise. For some reason, that made her want to smile.
* * *
For a moment, Khari ConDeleza, Matron of the Roterralar, felt a flash of annoyance and disappointment as the girl slipped slowly toward unconsciousness. Despite the girl’s wounds and obvious weakness, Khari had hoped to see at least a little vigor from the girl. She’d given the men careful instructions so that the girl should have ample opportunity to fight back and resist. But—
The girl suddenly dropped, pulling the sword from Rhellion’s belt as she fell.
That’s the spirit.
The girl was slow to react, slow to move, and a normal enemy would never have been able to take Rhellion’s sword from him, but Khari had instructed him to let it happen beforehand. That was, if the girl had enough gumption to actually try something.
“Stay back,” the girl said, eyes darting to the three men who had drawn swords and advanced on her.
Kaiden stood back to one side as he’d been instructed to do.
The girl took a step back, legs shaking visibly, though the sword point didn’t waiver.
Khari watched from one side, curious to see what the girl would do. There was no way off the top of the plateau except for on the back of an aevian.
As instructed, Rhellion moved forward, a sword given him by one of the other men held low. “Calm yourself, girl,” he said. “There’s no need to fight.”
The girl stepped back again.
Rhellion’s face hardened, and he raised his sword. “Put that down, girl. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”
Rhellion thrust, and the girl batted it aside.
Khari rais
ed an eyebrow. The girl knew the basic sword forms. Rhellion swung back, and the girl batted it aside again, twisting the blade so the blow was deflected and allowing the girl a chance to reset. True, it was slow, but the move was executed perfectly. Khari stood upright and drew her own sword, striding forward.
“Your form is sloppy,” Khari said curtly.
Rhellion backed away and allowed Khari to stand facing the girl. For a moment, the sword dropped, and the girl’s face scrunched in confusion. Then Khari raised her sword and pointed it at the girl.
The girl raised her own blade.
Khari, obligingly, went on the attack, though slowly and deliberately. The girl responded with perfect form, her face intent with concentration and a little fear, though her movements were stiff. She really did know the basic forms. How had she managed that? Khari pushed her harder and the girl’s defenses broke, unable to match Khari’s speed. Khari batted the girl’s sword aside and dropped her own sword onto the girl’s shoulder, the razor-sharp edge against her neck. The girl’s eyes showed white with fear and confusion. Khari felt a twinge of regret at what she was going to have to do next, though it would be for the girl’s own good. She hated having to break the new recruits. There were few of them, only three in the last decade, so she was not in very good practice, and a breaking was an extremely discriminating process.
“You will learn that nothing is the same here as it was in your little clan,” Khari said in a flat voice made all the more powerful for its lack of emotion. “Forget everything you have ever learned, and you might survive life here. Forget your pride. Forget that you can even think for yourself. Your life begins and ends at my whim now.”
The girl gulped, trembling either from fear or the effect of adrenaline wearing away.
Chapter 4: Cracks
“The true enemy of any ideal is a lack of persistence. And persistence is the true ideal of a fearsome enemy. The creatures are hardy, if not yet salvation. Change is the autumn leaf on its journey to the ground. It is not the first leaf that heralds’ autumn’s hold, but the last, and all the ground is brown, and red, and gold.”
Sharani series Box Set Page 4