Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  “We were just joking!” Raziela’s throat burned with the hot rise of tears she was trying hard to fight back.

  “He is an enemy of the Goddess! He threatens everything you claim to believe in!”

  “Why try to comfort me at all if you think I’m such a traitor?” Raziela tapped her dagger against her knee in a not-so-subtle warning that she was reaching the limits of her self-restraint. Caprea sniffed.

  “You can’t help but be what you are. You’re a human.”

  Hurt and furious, Raziela snapped one of the catkins off the dryad’s head. Caprea screeched from outrage, but before she could retaliate, a gust of warm air knocked her out of the bend in the tree. She landed with all the grace of a heap of kindling. A dirt devil appeared in the air before Raziela—Aeris, forming a barrier between them.

  “I don’t need your help. I can handle her by myself.” Raziela swung down from the limb, turning her back on both of them. Caprea could be cruel when her temper was provoked. That something as innocuous as being the butt of a joke set her off was nothing unusual, but this time Raziela was in no mood to placate her.

  Still, her words had sunk deep.

  Aeris’ arrival angered her. Why hadn’t the zephyrs warned her Castien was leaving? They could have stopped him. Though they were normally no more intrusive than a breath of wind here and there, if they massed together they were a force of nature every bit as destructive as anything the Great Mother could muster.

  Raziela wandered deeper into the willow grove, her mind in turmoil. Something tugged at her hair.

  “You could have warned me! You could have stopped him, but you didn’t!”

  Aeris tried again, this time brushing against her cheek.

  White-hot anger boiled up inside of her. Whirling around, she lashed out with her dagger, slashing a wide figure-eight through the air.

  “I said, go away!”

  Her shout echoed around the small clearing. Aeris’ brisk departure sent the draping willow fronds swaying. Almost immediately, Raziela was ashamed of herself. She had so few friends. She couldn’t afford to run them off too.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Raziela slumped at the base of her favorite weeping willow. “I have served the Goddess for as long as I can remember, but for the first time I don’t know if this is where I belong. I wish...” She winced, half-expecting her whispered confession to bring the Temple crashing down. “I wish I could have gone with him.”

  She brushed a stray tear away. “I still wish to serve her, but I just want to go back. I don’t belong here. Now, I’m not sure if I ever did.”

  Her words dissolved into a torrent of tears. As soon as her voice turned into an incoherent garble of noise, a small knot appeared in the bark. Her confession sealed deep inside the tree where no one would hear it other than the willow and her.

  RAZIELA KEPT TO HERSELF for the rest of the evening. None of the others showed any interest in checking up on her. By morning, she regretted driving them away, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to try and make amends.

  She was on her knees in the garden taking out her frustration on the weeds when the zephyrs whipped themselves into a frenzy. Dirt and leaf blew into her eyes as they swirled around her, warning. She had to turn her face into her sleeve as grit flew into her eyes like gnats. From the courtyard, one of the phoenixes gave a loud screech.

  “What’s going on? Stop! I can’t see!”

  “So it’s true.”

  The zephyrs vanished, leaving Raziela off-balance and bedraggled as she lifted her head to see a stranger standing in the archway to the courtyard. In spite of the thick mantle he had wrapped around his neck and shoulders, he was wraith-thin. His cheekbones jutted from beneath his skin and dark shadows ringed his eyes giving him a mean, predatory look.

  Raziela froze. Her weapons were all in the armory. She hadn’t even had the energy to slip her throwing knives into her braid. All she had was her little trowel and a bucket full of weeds.

  She adjusted her grip on the handle so that she could bring it slashing down like a dagger if she had to, but even as she shifted her weight under her so she could spring into an attack, two more men stepped up on either side of him.

  The word ‘betrayal’ clanged loud inside her. Castien had betrayed her!

  After all the kindness she had shown him, he had sold her out.

  All three of the men that faced her had the same dark, dusky, brown skin and black hair. However, there was something in the straight wide nose and arching brows of the the tall thin one in front that bore a striking resemblance to the Shadow Striker. His companions ignored her, staring around the gardens as though they’d never seen anything like them before.

  Raziela clenched her fingers around the handle of her trowel, flicking her gaze between them to decide which one to take out first. Luckily, none of them had the same muscle-clad build as Castien. Two had his height, but all were narrow and slender even beneath their bulky clothes.

  The trowel wasn’t a very good weapon. It wasn’t even very sharp! If she could just get by them to reach the armory she’d have no trouble taking out all three. But what if there were more? And worse, to go to the armory she’d have to abandon the Garden. What if instead of following her they went for the Sacred Grove?

  Great Mother, help me!

  Seeing the hard look in their eyes, she decided she would stand and fight. She couldn’t afford to worry about ‘what ifs’.

  “Where is it, girl?” snapped the man in front.

  Raziela smirked. Girl? She had to be five times the age he thought she was.

  “We should kill you now for hoarding this all to yourself,” said his companion, the shortest of the three with round, blunt features. She had sparred and held her own against the Shadow Striker, who she knew could make short work of any of these men. If she could do that, she had no reason to be afraid. But the hatred they fixed her with... No one had ever looked at her that way before.

  “If you are hungry, please, help yourself to the trees.” She waved her free hand carelessly toward the leafy branches.

  “Oh, we will,” said their leader. “But we’re not wasting our time with any of these.” He tried to turn his nose up at the garden, but there was a greedy gleam that made his mask of disinterest fall apart. He slapped his palm against the stone wall with a crack that almost made her jump. Instead, her eyes narrowed.

  “Where is Vitales? Where is the Tree of Life?”

  Everything inside her went cold.

  “Only those deemed worthy by the Great Mother may partake of that particular fruit. Even I have never—”

  “Where is it?” demanded the third man. On the bridge of his nose was a mole as large as a third eye. She swept a dismissive look over him.

  “It is not for you to know.”

  The leader’s mouth curved in an evil smile, as if he was hoping that she would be difficult. The similarities between him and the Shadow Striker grew even more pronounced.

  “Last chance, girl,” he said softly. “Or else the fun begins.”

  “Good,” said Raziela with equal ice in her voice. She dusted her trowel against her skirts. “I could use a distraction to lift the boredom for bit.”

  21.

  Castien and his team raced across the sand following the fresh tracks left by Kephas, Lorcan and Ilya. With every mile he berated himself for not anticipating such a trick. His friends followed without question—even Thamar, though there were clear questions in her eyes.

  They abandoned their horses once they reached the bare grounds of the former temple.

  “Do you believe in the existence of the Goddess?” Castien whirled to stare at them.

  “We don’t worship her, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Osee, puzzled. Castien waved it aside.

  “I don’t care about that. Do you admit that she’s real? If not, then stay here and guard the horses. All those that believe need to follow me up there now.”

  In unison, all four of them step
ped forward.

  “You need to believe in her and ask for her aid, otherwise this won’t work.”

  They looked a little uncomfortable, but they exchanged wary glances and vague nods. Castien led the way to the spot where the old altar once stood. Without a shred of reluctance he sank to his knees in the sand.

  “You know as well as I do that she needs our help. Take us to her.”

  The wind came then like a scirocco, blasting them with sand and air and heat. The others flung up their hands and cried out with surprise, but Castien bent his head and endured it.

  It was over in a moment. One second the wind and sand scored the inside of his ears, and then he found himself back before the stone altar in the temple beneath her tower. The winds continued to tug at his clothes, nowhere near as strong as they had been before. Thamar covered her mouth and staggered. Barak spun in a circle, wild-eyed.

  “What did you do? How did we get here?”

  “Up those stairs!” Castien led the way, fighting the winds that were blowing in his face, more of the Goddess’s safeguards. Though dazed by the incredible sight before them, the others followed with their weapons drawn. Barak skidded to a halt beside the arched doorway to the kitchen and inhaled deeply.

  “Bread! By the gods, she’s baking bread!” Castien drove his elbow into Barak’s sternum to pull his attention back to the matter at hand. The wonderful fresh-bread smell followed them up the stairs. For all their haste, Castien kept his tread silent, needing to hear in case a fight was taking place ahead of them.

  All was quiet.

  “Are there holes in the walls? Where is that damned draft coming from?” Osee staggered as another whistling gust barreled past them. Castien wasn’t listening. They’d reach the door at the very top.

  They burst into the circular room, and his heart sank. She wasn’t there.

  “By Itzal, she lives like a queen!” Armelle whispered, touching the rose pearl headdress on Raziela’s dresser. Thamar picked up a turquoise silk gown left in a heap on the floor. With trade routes cut off by the Scorching Wastes and Naiara’s pets in the sea, it had been years since the weavers had been able to create such vibrant colors. Thamar rubbed the material between her calloused fingers, savoring the feel of the soft cloth.

  “I could almost side with Kephas over this,” she murmured.

  The wind went howling past the window, drawing Castien’s attention outside. He ran to the large opening and looked out. On the other side of the courtyard wall a ribbon of flames caught his eye. Leaning out for a better look, he saw Raziela facing off against three figures holding nothing but a small trowel. They had her surrounded, but she was a blur of motion, and none of their weapons got close.

  Above her swooped three fiery comets—the phoenixes. Occasionally, they streaked down to pelt Kephas, Ilya, and Lorcan, but they couldn’t get too close without their flaming feathers setting the orchard on fire. Already some of the limbs surrounding the fight were blackened.

  “They’ve got her cornered!”

  He almost bowled Osee over charging back down the stairs. There was no room in his thoughts for anything but reaching the orchard before Kephas or his lackeys got in a lucky shot.

  Even running flat out, he wasn’t fast enough. He burst into the gardens with his hunting knife drawn in time to see Kephas sweep Raziela’s foot out from beneath her while she had her back turned to counter Ilya’s attack. A phoenix the size of an eagle swooped down with a harsh caw, but Kephas swung his sword in a wild arc that drove it back. Raziela went down hard, but she already had her elbow under her, and she swung her trowel in a wide arc to give herself room to stand. Kephas dodged the small tool and snatched her braid by the base of her skull. With a hard twist, he hurled her back to the ground.

  “Kephas!” Castien roared, charging across the white stones. The Prince’s head came up sharply. Raziela raised hers as well. The look in her eyes was unfathomable. He drew up short.

  “You’re wasting your time with her. The Tree is what you came for.” Kephas paused, breathing hard.

  “True enough. But this one needs to pay for the suffering she’s caused. Our people have sickened, and starved, and died because of what she kept from us.” Kephas waved his arm at the bountiful garden.

  “You had all of this, and you thought sending a basket of lettuce would make up for what you’ve hoarded for yourself?”

  The light in the garden dimmed as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun. When Castien glanced up, the sky was completely clear. The sun was visible, but its light wasn’t nearly as bright as normal. What did that mean?

  The color drained from Raziela’s face. Her expression turned pleading, but her eyes were on the sky.

  “I’m sorry, Great Mother. I was just trying to restore their faith. “

  Light filtered into the orchard once more. When the strengthened rays touched her, she rallied her courage. She sent Kephas a look laced with scorn.

  “You angered the goddess, now you must reap what you’ve sown. If I die today, I die knowing I served the Great Mother as well as I know how.”

  Castien hated the way she seemed to be offering up her life. Ilya and Lorcan started toward her too, but Thamar and Osee leapt in front of them, knives drawn. Armelle and Barak hung back to block their avenue of retreat and provide cover. They eyed the phoenixes warily.

  Kephas’s face twisted as he looked at Raziela kneeling at his feet. Pinching her lips, she touched her forehead to the grass, waiting for him to deliver a killing blow. Instead, his eyes followed the long line of her hair, as if he’d only just realized what it was.

  “You serve Naiara, do you? Well, that service ends now.”

  His dagger slashed upward, but instead of slicing skin, it sawed through her braid.

  “Kephas, no!” The cry tore out of Castien before he could bite it back.

  The sunlight snuffed out like a candle. Startled, Kephas flung Raziela away from him to free his hands to grab for his sword. His dagger clattered to the ground from his shaking hands.

  Raziela fell to all fours. Her hands flapped to the back of her head, feeling the severed strands brushing between her shoulder blades.

  “What have you done?” she shrieked. She surged to her feet, shoving Kephas away. One of the phoenixes dove at him, red-orange talons stretched for his eyes. With a shriek, he rolled out of the way in time to protect his face, but the wicked talons scraped the back of his neck. The thick hood of his traveling cloak protected him long enough for Lorcan to lob a white stone at the bird that drove it back into the air with a squawk that promised revenge.

  Raziela snatched the end of the braid out of Kephas’ hands and reeled it in hand over hand, but when she reached the end and there was no question that it was no longer attached to her head, a keening noise broke from her throat again.

  “What have you done?” she said again. Castien stared, unable to move. A hundred years...

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” But this time she shot her poison-tipped look at him. It gouged a hole through his chest like a sword.

  “Grab what you can carry!” Kephas ordered, eyeing the sky. “Naiara knows we’re here!”

  Dark clouds swirled overhead. The winds shrieked, lightning flashed, and thunder heralded a storm to end all storms.

  Lorcan and Ilya raced for the trees, stripping the branches, snapping off limbs and trampling the fruit already underfoot. Red, angry blisters covered their faces and hands. The phoenixes flew in tight circles around them, raking and pecking and drowning them in the waves of heat generated with every swoop of their wings. Even so, their armor gave them more protection than Kephas’ fashionable robes.

  They’d brought a cart with them. It was parked just outside the arch leading into the orchard. Baskets were stacked in the back of the cart. Ducking from a low dive from the largest phoenix, Lorcan dumped what he could into the first basket and hauled it back into the orchard for more.

  “Don’t just stand around, you idiots. Help them!” Kep
has shouted at Osee and Armelle, who still stood poised on either side of the archway. “The witch means to wipe us out. Grab what you can and let’s get out of here!”

  Armelle bristled.

  “Watch who you’re barking at, mongrel.”

  His entire body recoiled from the insult.

  “You dare insult me?”

  “I’ve heard the same or worse said of him often enough.” She tipped her chin toward Castien. “Since you share the same pedigree, the slurs more than apply to you too.”

  His reply was lost in the rising howl on the wind.

  “Cas, what’s the plan?” Thamar fought her way over to shout into his ear. He couldn’t answer. It was as if an invisible fist had him by the throat.

  Kephas took off running along the rows of fruit trees looking for Vitales.

  “The wagons!”

  Two of the phoenixes landed on the wagon and the combination of their burning feathers and the fanning winds set the cart ablaze. Thamar abandoned Castien with a loud curse. Armelle and Osee kept the birds distracted while Barak, Thamar, Lorcan, and Ilya tore off their capes to smother the flames.

  The largest of the phoenixes still stood between Castien and Raziela. It spread its wings wide. The cinders fanning off its feathers forced him back.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to get her out of here.” Castien had no idea if the bird could understand him. He appreciated its determination to protect her, but he would do what he had to do to get to the girl.

  It shrieked. Castien raised his dagger. A final warning.

  “Don’t test me. You can come back. She won’t.”

  A lightning bolt struck the top of the tower, and the air seemed to rip open with the terrible crack. Castien flinched and a terror seized him he hadn’t known since he was a teenager. They all jumped, even Raziela. But she pressed her forehead into the grass and began a steady stream of prayers.

  Kephas doubled back. With the phoenix facing off against Castien, he had no trouble reaching down to catch her by the back of her gorget.