by Sarah Dalton
Mushtan shakes his head. “A man should look another man in the eye before he kills him. This is the coward’s way.”
“Maybe there is something we can salvage from it,” Cas says, striding towards the broken spider.
For a moment my heart skips a beat, remembering how the Nix played dead before biting off my hand. “Cas wait!”
He turns back to me. “What is it?”
I rush to his side and check the spider myself.
“It’s a heap of junk now, look,” Cas says. He reaches forward and pulls the sword from its eye. Metal scrapes against metal and I cringe.
Soon the men surround the spider, pulling away bits of brass and jewels. I reach into the middle, and pull out the black diamond from where its brain should be.
“The king makes these in his palace,” I tell them. “He borrows money from the Haedalands, starves his own people, and makes these to try and create his own Ember Stone. He’s so desperate to never die that he’s willing to take the lives of all those thousands starving across the land.”
“He’s unhinged,” Sasha says. She still holds her amulet. When she notices me watching, she says, “I had no idea it would do that. Something told me to take your hand.”
“The craft flowed into your amulet,” I reply. “It was a powerful thing. Our gifts are expanding.” I wonder what else is possible.
“Do you think the spider was tracking us?” Cas asks. “How else would it find us? It can’t possibly have been a coincidence. The Anadi Sands stretch for hundreds of miles. It had to know how to find us.”
“Unless someone at Asher told them,” Sasha replies.
“That doesn’t explain why they went to Asher in the first place,” Cas says. “They had to know we were there. Then there is the small matter of navigating the Anadi Sands after a landslide washed us further away than expected.”
The thought makes my stomach sink. If that’s true, then either the king or Lyndon could be following us. “Anything is possible,” I whisper.
Chapter Twenty-Two – The White Snake
With the feeling of shadows over my shoulder, we continue through the Anadi Sands, stopping only for a little water and food. All around me, I see weary faces, sweat coated foreheads, and frowns. I have the eyes of the king behind me, and the eyes of Mushtan’s men all around me. Esther’s words echo in my mind: if he doesn’t betray me, he will betray the sultan. When—if—we find the Sihran temple, Mushtan will have a decision to make.
But for now we move: one step after the other under a punishing sun. I pull the she’em over my head to help shield my eyes from the bright sunshine. The corpse of the brass spider is scattered some miles behind us, its mechanism completely pulled apart. How did it find us?
“Hada-Ya, come talk to me a moment,” Mushtan says, turning back on his camel to face me.
I hurry Adil forwards, ignoring the camel’s protests. Adil likes to follow, not lead. He hates overtaking other camels.
“What is it?” I ask.
“We are beyond the region of the Anadi Sands that I can navigate. Now we can only use the direction of the sun to aid our journey. There are no landmarks, no changes in landscape that I can use to help us. Even with the maps, it is an almost impossible task to know exactly where to find our location,” he says through tight lips.
“Are you saying we’re lost?” I ask.
He raises his shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m saying there’s no way to navigate us exactly to our location. I am an old man who has travelled far. I’ve been to the Anadi Sands many times, but we are in a part of the desert that… how can I put this? Those who come never return.”
Despite the sweltering sun, my blood turns cold. “We can’t turn back.”
“I’m not suggesting we do, Hada-Ya, but I thought you should be prepared. This is where your link to the Gods will have to guide us. Perhaps praying to them is the only thing to direct us to our location.” He grins at me, revealing old, yellowed teeth.
I shiver. Aside from Avery, I have no connection to the Gods. Even Avery is sporadic with her interventions. So far she has let my father and Cas’s mother die. Why should I trust that she will help? I try to put the negative thoughts out of my mind. If this really is my destiny, thinking that we’ll fail is not going to help.
“All we can do is keep going,” I say to Mushtan. “If this is my destiny, we’ll soon find out.”
Mushtan laughs. “Indeed we will, Hada-Ya.”
*
Shunning dark thoughts from your mind is much easier when you have food and water. After another day of travel, I’m not so confident. Avery has not come to me in my dreams. Sasha’s amulet remains the same warm temperature. Mushtan is quiet. I worry that he is weakening. His men grow restless, and I remain concerned that they will turn on both Mushtan and myself. Even Cas says little. After the spider, his expression has darkened. I know he worries that his father and brother will find us. I worry about it as well.
I have counted the number of skulls we have found in this part of the desert: five. There must be many more buried deep under the sand of the desert floor. Adil tripped over one of them, and I fell onto the sand, my metal hand coming off in the process. Treowe had to help me tie it back on.
“Perhaps the hook would be better,” he suggests. “It’s more lightweight and sturdy.”
“If you think so,” I say, glancing at Cas.
“I think the hook is magnificent,” Cas says. “You appear powerful with it.”
“I feel ridiculous,” I reply.
He kisses the top of my head. “You shouldn’t. I’ve seen you look ridiculous, Mae Waylander, and it’s usually to do with an ill-fitting evening gown, not because of a weapon.”
And so I continue on my journey with one hand a hook. It’s not particularly queenly, but I suppose it’s practical. Adil strides along, and Cas’s hands stay at my waist.
“The people of Aegunlund loved your mother. She was the queen of their hearts. She was the mother to their country. I have a hook.” I frown at my right arm, the metal glinting in the sun.
“They will love you as I love you,” Cas responds. “I think they already do. News of your powers travelled quickly after my attempted wedding to Ellen. Anyone who stands up to the king is loved by the regular folk. You should know that. But maybe you shouldn’t wear the hook to your coronation.”
I can’t help but smile, but Cas has a point. As a Halts-Walden peasant, I disliked the king even as a small child. I would like anyone who disobeyed the king and stood up to his brutish ways.
There’s a moan and a thud. I pull on Adil’s rein and turn back to see one of Mushtan’s men helping Ellen back onto her camel. She is barely conscious. Sasha sits behind her, helping some water onto her lips. My heart clenches. Some of us are not used to this climate and it has been a long, difficult journey. I wait for Sasha’s camel to catch up with us.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Dehydrated and exhausted,” Sasha replies.
“I’ll heal her,” I reply.
Sasha’s face hardens before she sighs and relents. “Not too much.”
I hold my hands over her forehead and think of the cool air back in Halts-Walden. I think of the distant sea in Cyne, and the smell of pine in the Waerg Woods. Ellen shifts in her seat, then takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.
“What happened?” she asks.
“You collapsed,” I reply, feeling a little woozy from the power used to heal her. “But you’re better now.”
“How much longer?” Her blue eyes plead with me.
I twist Adil’s reins between my fingers, struggling to meet her gaze. How can I answer that question when we have no idea where we are? “We’ll get there soon. I promise.”
I pull Adil away, my heart beating a little faster, and a sickness rising from my belly.
“Mae,” Cas says.
“I know what you’re going to say. Don’t make promises you c
an’t keep.”
He doesn’t have to reply. We both know it. But I am weak. I needed to give her hope. And now, I need to give myself hope. I need to feel Avery near. I need to know that she is helping me. But still she eludes me.
I glance up at the blue skies above. We need water, but I cannot control my powers enough for us to collect the rain water we need. If I change the weather, I could create more floods and put our lives in danger.
Our afternoon rest is almost pointless. There is little food to go around. I give an extra half date to Ellen, and share some of my water with her. It helps to perk her up a little, but she is still weak. I hate to admit it, but my bones are tired and weary. My thighs and arse are sore from the constant riding. We’ve all lost weight. My collarbone pokes out from my skin, and Cas’s cheekbones protrude. Many of the Borgans sit with their head in their hands, almost broken.
Mushtan calls time, and we climb back onto our weary camels, departing with only a general direction to follow. Onward we plod as a group of exhausted travellers with frayed tempers.
“I’m not sure how long we can go on like this,” I say quietly.
Cas squeezes my waist. “It’s not over yet. I believe in you.”
“I wish I did.”
A Borgan voice catches my attention. “Snake. Get away, it could be poisonous.” He flails his arms directing those with camels close to the snake to move away.
I look down at the long, slithering creature, relieved to see that it is not an enormous monster like the worm. Its body is white and shiny with flecks of gold. It moves in serpentines, twisting its body back and forth.
“Kill it,” Mushtan instructs. “We could use the meat.”
“Wait,” I say, raising my voice. The men glare at me with hooded, hungry eyes, their hands hovering over their daggers. I open my mouth to speak, but when I do, I realise I don’t know why I stopped them. It makes sense to kill the snake, and yet I feel strongly that we shouldn’t.
“What is it, Hada-Ya?” Mushtan asks.
“I don’t know. I think… I think we should follow it.”
Sasha hurries her camel to my side. She and Ellen ride together, and I note the dark circles around the eyes of both of them.
“I hope you have some sort of plan,” Sasha says. “Those men need real food and all we have left is dried fruit and grain.”
“I can’t explain it,” I say. “I feel like we need to follow the snake.”
“Wait,” Sasha says. “My amulet. My amulet is heating up.” She holds it up to show me, and those around us, her eyes wide and excited. “I think that means we’re going the right way.”
“It could be a sign from the Gods, Mae. What if it’s Avery?” Cas says. He rubs my upper arms with excitement.
There’s a renewed energy amongst the group. I urge Adil on, and he complies. Sasha holds her amulet and quickens her pace so that we are only a short distance behind the snake. I hear the sound of excited voiced at the back of the group, something I haven’t heard for days. We follow the snake down a steep incline, and then across a flat piece of desert with some spiky plants growing intermittently around us. Once we’ve past this plain, we head onto soft sand that sinks under the weight of our camels.
“The amulet is scorching,” Sasha says. She swears and drops it, then holds it by the string instead. “We must be close.”
Sure enough, the snake comes to a stop, and Adil bows his knees so I can slide off. I walk slowly, with stiff legs and aching muscles. I walk straight up to the snake, which sits coiled on the sand. When I approach, it uncoils and wraps its clean white body around my leg, twisting up my body. My heart pounds. What if I’m wrong? What if this is a trick set by the king? But then a soft whisper comes through the breeze, brushing my neck. Wind.
The snake settles on my shoulders as I take three steps back.
“No one come any closer,” I warn.
I know what I need to do. I raise my arms and close my eyes, and soon the wind blows through the scorching desert, whipping up my clothes. I keep my eyes closed as the sand batters my skin. The wind strengthens. I feel its swell, its might and power, and my body tingles with anticipation. And then it dies down, and the snake slithers back down my body. When the wind is still, I open my eyes, and the snake is gone.
What remains is a deep ravine where the wind moved the sand away. In that ravine is a set of stone steps leading to two pillars. Between the two pillars is only darkness.
“The Sihran temple. The last of the Ancients,” Sasha whispers.
I nod. “Now we find out if they are still alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Three – The Forgotten Ancients
It’s as though the desert has opened up to us. We crowd around the entrance staring down at the darkness below.
“My amulet is hot,” Sasha says. “We need to go down there.”
I turn to Mushtan. “I don’t want this to be it. I don’t want to go in there with you and come out without you. Are you with us?”
“I am with you, Hada-Ya,” he says. “Every step of the way.”
His brown eyes are sincere. I nod, and take a step forward, my heart pounding as I place my foot on the top step. It holds my weight. It feels strong beneath me, as strong and ancient as my powers. I inhale a deep breath and continue down the steps. The lower we go into the ground, the more dank the smell and the hotter the air. I press my palm against the tunnel wall. It’s smooth like marble, and at the bottom of the stairs are two marble pillars with a connecting archway. On the archway is an inscription. I have learned some of the Aelfen language from Allerton but I’m far from fluent. There is one word I recognise—beware.
“Beware the trespassers, death awaits all,” Sasha translates.
A shudder works down my spine.
“Someone wanted to be left alone,” Cas observes. “They came to the most remote part of the desert and built a temple with a frightening warning on it. They must really hate other people.”
“Ancient tribes were always at war,” Mushtan says. “This could be their sanctuary away from that fighting.”
“Whatever their motive, we must retrieve the Ansarintante.” I take the first step through the archway, my back slick with sweat.
“We need torches,” Mushtan says. “It’s too dark down here to see our path.”
“No need,” I reply, forming a small fireball in my palm and tossing it up above my head. It sticks there, lighting our way. There’s a collective gasp from the group. Some even take a few steps away from me. I can’t help but smile. There is one advantage to having powers… it’s nice to shock people every once in a while.
It takes a few moments for us to get through a short tunnel. In this part of the temple, the walls are etched with drawings. I run my finger over the grooves, feeling the outlines of ancient art.
“They’re all so violent,” Sasha says. “All of them. They show war, and fighting, and sacrifice. Look—that seems to be an altar and this Aelfen is holding a ceremonial knife.”
“Sacrifice was important to the Ancients,” Mushtan says. “They would kill those pure of heart to appease the wrath of the Gods.”
“It appears that they should have been concentrating on their own wrath,” I say, following the sight of red blood and violence across the walls.
“It’s a good distraction, no? To blame a deity for our actions. For the most part, no one can say they are wrong. The Gods don’t come down to tell us we’re right or wrong, they remain wherever they remain, leaving us to hack ourselves to pieces over them,” Mushtan says in a voice that tells me he does not think highly of the Gods.
“Sometimes they intervene. Allerton told me the Ancients made the Gods with their own magic,” I say, moving slowly along, still drinking in the colourful art undisturbed for thousands of years.
“Hada-Ya, the world is more complicated than that. The Gods you know, yes. But these sacrifices are not for them. They are for the old ways, the ancient ways. The
first Aelfen Gods. Times were brutal then. Times were hard. It was kill or be killed,” Mushtan explains.
“That doesn’t sound so different,” Cas says sombrely.
“Your father is determined to break peace,” Mushtan says in a quiet voice.
Cas remains silent as we move on through the tunnel and down to spiralling steps that lead deeper and deeper below the desert floor. The air is stale and thin. My fire sputters above me, threatening to extinguish and plunge us into darkness. I have an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia as I think about the desert sand above our head. My steps quicken, hoping to find an entrance into a place not quite so cramped and small.
“These people never wanted to be found,” Sasha says. “See how far they tunnelled underground?”
“But they built a way out.” Treowe’s voice takes me by surprise. I hadn’t heard him speak for a long time and had forgotten he was there. “That means that one day they wanted to come back to the world.”
“They are waiting,” Cas says. “Waiting for an opportunity to come back.”
“To do what?” I say.
It’s Mushtan who answers. “Control us, I would think, Hada-Ya. Maybe they are waiting for enough magic to return to our world so they are able to use all their power.”
“But there has been a craft-born in every generation. There is still magic in the world.”
“Not enough,” he says. “Not for them. It would take a very powerful craft-born to re-introduce real magic to Aegunlund.”
We continue further into the temple as I mull over Mushtan’s words. My skin prickles at the thought of us wandering into a temple of immortals waiting for an opportunity to return to the world and control us all like puppets. My mouth goes dry. What if I cannot defeat them?
When we come out to a large open space, we all take in a deep breath of air that is not so dank or thin. Cas wipes sweat from his forehead, and straightens his back. I notice that many of the others are doing the same. We are all tired and weary.