Sands (Sharani Series Book 1) (16 page)

Kaiden shrugged. “You could go have words with your aevian. He seemed somewhat agitated when I walked over this way, and there was blood on his saddle. Yours?”

Lhaurel ignored the quip.

“Stay here in the eyrie,” Khari said, shooting a glare at Kaiden. “Unsaddle Fahkiri and clean up your saddle. Then practice your stance until I come back.”

Lhaurel rolled her eyes at the trio’s retreating backs as they left. Kaiden glanced over his shoulder at her once and winked. She longed to chuck a rock at the back of his head. The man irritated her to the very core. And, at the same time, she felt guilty for being irritated.

She bit her lip and sighed. There was so much new information to process. Just when she got comfortable with one thing, something else was added. And what had Tieran meant about all the water gourds shaking? She was sure that she had been the cause—Khari had made that plain—but how had she done it? It had all happened too fast. And that meeting—what was it about? Who were these contacts in the Oasis? She longed to be able to hear what was going on. There were far too many secrets among the Roterralar.

She shook her head and walked into the eyrie, shooing the stubborn birds out of the way. Though even the smallest of their number was larger than she, the aevians parted before her. She paused for a moment at the water gourds, studying them for a moment before taking a swig of the cool, refreshing liquid. Nothing seemed any different about them than before. As she walked, she felt her powers returning to her as larger portions of the warren returned to her awareness. She could sense the aevians around her, sense the people moving around in the warren. The worker women that had been cutting steaks earlier had left, leaving her alone in the eyrie. She sensed Fahkiri to the northwest and turned in that direction.

She had only taken a single step when she suddenly froze mid-stride. She’d
sensed
Fahkiri? She’d never been able to tell one person’s presence from another’s before. But she was sure that it was Fahkiri that she felt. Her pace sped up. Yes, there he was, sharpening his beak on a rock, saddle stained along the pommel with her blood. She
could
pick out individuals.

Fahkiri noticed her and paused in the act of dipping his head back toward the rock. He straightened and eyed her beadily, clacking his beak and ruffling his feathers.

“What’s wrong, Fahkiri?” She stepped toward him.

He clacked his beak and shuffled around so that his back was toward her.

She sighed and moved up to pull the saddle off his back. He stayed still long enough for her undo the two buckles that held the entire contraption on his back, but as soon as it came free, he scuttled away and launched himself into the air.

“What did I do?” she shouted after him.

The sound of someone clearing a throat made her turn. She had been focused on Fahkiri and hadn’t noticed a young woman approach. Now, Lhaurel felt her presence as well as saw her.

“Can I help you?” Lhaurel asked, somewhat peevishly. She was annoyed with Kaiden and Fahkiri and more than a little confused by her unreliable skill with magic. The young woman, unfortunately, got the brunt of her frustrations.

The girl smiled at her, though it was a brief grin that only danced at the edges of her lips before fading. “He’s just upset because you ignored him earlier when you stole my waterskin.” She nodded in the direction Fahkiri had gone.

“I—well, um—Khari needed the—I can’t return it. It sort of exploded.” Lhaurel began.

“Oh, I’m not upset,” the girl said with another quick grin. “It was an old waterskin anyway. I was just explaining. I know a good deal about the aevians. Sometimes people find my knowledge useful.”

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Well, while you were in here the Matron kept all the riders busy with other things. Let me tell you, probably one of the worst days of my life. Slaving away atop the plateau for Kaiden and Skree-lar, ugh. That was unpleasant.”

“What?” Lhaurel asked.

“Kaiden,” the girl explained, rolling her eyes and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He refuses to sleep in the greatroom with the rest of us. He sleeps atop the plateau. Something about how we could house the entire population of the clans within our warren but are simply choosing not to. He doesn’t think we should be separated so much from them. So he chooses to sleep up top. He’s gained quite a following. They have their own little camp up there and everything.”

“So he’s grumpy with everyone, then,” Lhaurel said with a smile. “Not just me.”

“Not everyone, but almost everyone. He’s nice to Sarial, but he probably has to be. She leads the mystics as a whole.” The girl’s grin matched Lhaurel’s and then fell slightly. “Kaiden does have more cause to be irritable than some, I guess.”

Lhaurel looked at her questioningly. The girl glanced around and then answered.

“Before he was a Roterralar, Kaiden was part of the Londik. Everyone thinks his clan is dead. Not all the Roterralar truly give up their old lives. I mean, some of us still have family among the clans. Or
had
, I should say.”

Lhaurel didn’t know what to say. Maybe there was more to the man. Maybe there was more to the Roterralar than what she’d thought. They remained aloof from the clans, hidden from sight and knowledge, while they still had family, friends, and connections among them. Lhaurel hadn’t had that connection with her own clan. Well, maybe with Saralhn, but that was gone now. They must truly believe what they practiced in order to leave so many behind.

Lhaurel let the silence stretch almost to the point of being awkward before changing the subject.

“I always wondered why I never saw Skree-lar in the eyrie. But you were saying about Fahkiri?”

The girl smiled. “Like I said, your aevian is upset because you ignored him earlier. Just like any male, bring him some food, and he’ll forgive you. I’d cut you up a nice sailfin steak, but they already picked clean the carcasses we have on hand. There’s not another raid scheduled until tomorrow, so you’ll just have to wait until then.”

Lhaurel smiled at the girl’s rambling, lilting tone. “I’ll have to try that,” Lhaurel said.

The girl smiled and gave Lhaurel a small bow, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Lhaurel said. “The meeting that everyone was going to. Where is it being held?”

“Up in the council room, but it is only for the senior warriors.” She noticed Lhaurel’s confused look and added, “Those who have been around long enough to become cast leaders.”

“Thank you,” Lhaurel said vaguely.

The girl left.

Lhaurel waited a moment and then followed her. Dealing with Fahkiri’s hurt feelings would have to wait until tomorrow anyway. She wanted to find out what was going on, and if past experience was any indication, they weren’t about to simply tell her. She’d have to find the information for herself, which meant eavesdropping on the meeting. She couldn’t tell when she’d decided to try and sneak in—probably when Kaiden had taunted her—but her mind was set.

The news of this success will rekindle their hope. There is still much work to be done. Much work indeed. Size augmentation is the primary concern. Then multiplication.

The work would move faster if Briane were here.  She vanished on the eve of our great success and has not yet returned.

-From the Journals of Elyana

“Someone should go and warn them.”

Rhellion banged a fist down on the table, the sound reverberating in the small room. “Enough, Kaiden. You are here to fill in for Sarial, not rehash old decisions already made well before you were born.”

Kaiden sat as far forward on his chair as he could without falling off. “Some of us are not so coldhearted as you,” Kaiden said softly. “Some of us think that the old ways are not what you older gentlemen believe. The stories and legends speak of a time when all the desert people were one, not divided as we are now. On the eve of this crisis, it may warrant another discussion.” He finished his words with a pointed look at Makin Qays, though the Warlord returned his look with impassivity.

“This is
hardly
a crisis,” Rhellion retorted, picking up his glass of wine and sipping it carefully.

Makin Qays sniffed at the indulgence but didn’t say anything. It was little wonder that the younger warriors, like Kaiden, were fond of the drink when their elders acted in much the same manner.

“The wall around the Oasis will hold the genesauri back, as it always has,” Makin Qays said. “The marsaisi are much too large to fit through the narrow openings, and the sailfins are repelled by the strange magnetism the walls put off. You should know that better than most, magnetelorium.”

Kaiden grimaced and opened his mouth to reply, but Khari placed a hand on his arm and he swallowed what he was going to say. He pushed back in his seat and slumped down, lowering his head and crossing his arms beneath his chest.

“What we need now is to gather more information,” Khari said. “Strategy before tactics. The patrols are not back yet, and this news doesn’t change anything. It only lets us know that the clans are at each other’s throats. This isn’t the first time. What we need is more information.”

Kaiden shifted slightly in his chair, but said nothing.

“Agreed,” Makin Qays said. “We will need to wait for the patrols to return before we can decide on any further action. If there are no further questions, I think this meeting is over.”

*              *              *

Lhaurel darted around the corner just as the council room door creaked open. It had been surprisingly easy to sneak up to the council room. In fact, there hadn’t been any need to do any sneaking at all. There hadn’t even been any guards. These people were much more trusting than they should have been.

She dashed down the first side passage that broke off from the main hall she followed. Waiting there in shadow, she reached out to feel the presences of the senior warriors leaving the room. It was so easy now. She did it almost without thought.

They were all there, the senior warriors, moving down the larger passage back toward the long, wide passageway that Lhaurel had begun to start thinking of as the main artery through the Roterralar Warren.

Someone grabbed her arm, strong fingers wrapping around her wrist and squeezing in tight.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” Kaiden yanked on her arm and spun her around to face him, half drawing her sword.

“Let go of me!” Lhaurel demanded.

He released her with a smug expression, a look that appeared at home on his normally plain features. No . . . looking into his eyes at the moment, she decided that his features were far from plain. They certainly had nothing supremely distinctive about them, but it was more the expressions that so often frequented them that made the man forgettable. He was too unyielding, too stolid. But when he let true emotion show, like the smugness he now wore, then his features came alive. His face took on a depth that was memorable, if not truly handsome. And the memory of his standing over her with a shield during the sandstorm. That had been a moment of beauty.

“You set me up,” Lhaurel said, massaging her wrist.

Kaiden shrugged. “Not all of us go as complacently as the Roterralar might think sometimes. I remember the fire in you when you were chained there on the rocks and left to die. I had to hold the chains down so you wouldn’t break out of them on your own.” He grinned.

Lhaurel grinned back. “You put me there.”

“No, you put yourself there,” he corrected. “I simply hastened your inevitable end and then saved you from it.”

“You make it sound so noble. From where I was sitting, it was rather churlish.”

Kaiden shrugged again.

The nonchalance left Lhaurel feeling suddenly irritated again. “Well, since you knew I’d be listening, why didn’t you stop me? Why did you confront me alone instead of in front of everyone?”

And why didn’t I sense you coming?
She was loath to ask the question out loud. She wasn’t about to let Kaiden know her inability to sense his approach irritated her if she didn’t have to. He didn’t need to know anything else he could use against her.

“Maybe I wanted you to hear.”

“If you did, you would tell me what news you received, since I missed that first part.”

Kaiden spread his hands wide and smiled. It really was a pretty smile when it was genuine.

“But of course. It seems that your husband has aspirations of power.”

“He is
not
my husband.”

“True, I believe your supposed death absolved you of that rather burdensome arrangement. Your Sidena Warlord has taken ill, and it’s pretty clear who is behind it. Taren and the Warlord’s wife are currently planning his demise so Taren can take over.”

Lhaurel was silent for a moment. That Marvi would conspire against her own husband came as no surprise. Anyone who had ever lived among the Sidena and had more than half their wits knew that Warlord Jenthro had little in the way of leadership skills. The clan only survived by Marvi’s efforts. The woman was devious and manipulative, which was the only reason that she had survived so long. Any other woman would have been stoned to death or strung up on the rocks for such impertinence. And most likely at Marvi’s order. She was the harshest enforcer of the gender roles, though she violated them daily.

“What about the water oaths?” Lhaurel asked. “They forbid the normal succession duels. How are they going to pull it off?”

“So you’re not surprised?”

“Marvi plot against her own husband? Taren wanting to be in charge? Are you surprised when the sun comes up in the morning? That’s just the way they are. You didn’t answer about the water oaths.”

“That’s right. I didn’t. Probably because the information didn’t say.”

Lhaurel grimaced, but set that aside for the moment. “So what else was there? Why were you saying that someone needs to warn them? Warn them about what? What did you mean about the legends and stories talking about when we were all one people?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions?”

Lhaurel frowned. “Do you ever not answer a question with another question?”

“Well, the genesauri seem to all be headed directly toward the Oasis. None of those old fools thinks the clans should be worried. Nothing I say can get any of them to see the danger. I
have
to figure out how to get them to take this threat seriously.” He spoke with iron resolve.

Lhaurel’s half-formed response died before reaching her lips. She sensed someone approach. Someone familiar. She focused, trying to distinguish whom it was. Recognition hit her the moment before Khari rounded the corner. The short woman regarded them both with an expression that was either knowing or angry. Or both.

“Lhaurel,” Khari said, ignoring Kaiden completely. “I have need of you tonight. Come with me, please. We have little time to ready ourselves.”

Lhaurel looked from Kaiden to Khari and then back again, chewing her bottom lip. Kaiden rolled his eyes and walked away without a single word of parting, undermining any hesitancy Lhaurel had been feeling.

“What do you need?” Lhaurel asked, distracted.

Khari began talking, but Lhaurel only half listened. Her mind was elsewhere, following Kaiden’s retreat even without being able to feel his presence.

Khari led Lhaurel back to her room to grab a red robe for each of them. Lhaurel felt odd wearing them, though they fit surprising well. Then Khari handed her a leatherwork belt inlaid with steel rings to replace the more ornate one Beryl had given her, and Lhaurel gladly belted her sword onto it.

“So what exactly do you need me to do?” Lhaurel asked for perhaps the dozenth time as she and Khari walked down the passageway toward the eyrie, red robes encircling them.

Khari groaned and rounded on her. “As I said before, I need to gather some information tonight. My informants don’t know enough about us to even realize what questions to ask. I need someone who is familiar with the Sidena’s current politics to help me find out where to prod and who to approach.”

“But won’t they recognize me?” Lhaurel asked.

“They think you’re dead. They won’t be looking for your face beneath a Roterralar hood. We survive through mystery and intrigue. The more mysterious you seem, the more likely it is that they will pay more attention to you. And the closer attention they pay to you as a Roterralar, the less likely they are to actually see
you
.”

“Alright.”
That didn’t make sense at all.

*              *              *

Gavin blinked and sucked in a long, ragged breath. Time returned with the sound of his beating heart.

Thump.

He tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to respond. He groaned, a weak, wet sound.

Thump.

He lay there for what seemed like an eternity, though by the count of his heartbeats it was far less than that. The sun beat down, warming the rocks upon which he lay and burning his exposed, bloody flesh. He had no idea how long he’d lain there, but it was long enough that a few carrion eaters, including a few rashelta, poked around near him without the slightest hesitancy.

He strained and struggled to rise, finally succeeding in rolling onto his stomach and then back onto his knees so that he could slip into a sitting position. His vision swam and a shock ran down his arm. The carrion-eaters scattered.

Slowly, his vision came into focus, coalescing on the red-grey rocks that formed the cliffs that encircled the Oasis. Heat radiated upward from the cliffs, giving the whole area a look of a mirage. The rock extended in a massive circle around the entire perimeter, stretching for miles along the circumference of the almost perfect circle. Though mostly flat, there were sections that had become broken and jagged where pieces of the cliff had broken. These ragged towers dotted the otherwise unbroken circle in several places, but the only true gap in the wall rested above the narrow canyon-like entrance to the Oasis, a few hundred spans to the south of Gavin.

Gavin groaned, low and pitiful, and brought his hands up to inspect the damage. They were a ragged, broken mess, some completely devoid of anything resembling flesh. He could still use them—they all bent and none of them were broken—but movement brought pain.

Why?

The question burned through the shock and the pain. What had driven him to such self-destructive actions?

Remember what it is that you have sworn to do.

It had been said that the end of the great and final battle against the enemy had been fought here, upon the cliffs. Literally on top of the plateau-like ring that protected them from the genesauri during the Migration. The stories claimed that what had happened atop the cliffs had brought them both salvation and destruction.

His grandmother had told him that his parents had died trying to discover the truth behind these stories. His father had tried to scale the cliffs more than once but had never completed the climb. The burden of discovery and proof now fell to Gavin. Somewhere atop these cliffs was the proof that he and his family had searched for generations. Somewhere there were the answers that he sought.

Muscles screamed in protest as he struggled to get to his feet. Strength failed him and he stumbled and fell. He screamed, and his screaming gave him strength. A gust of wind whipped up around him, scattering dust and driving sand into his wounds. Teeth clamped together against the searing pain, Gavin rose to his feet, defying his weakened muscles and remaining standing on sheer will alone.

His grandmother’s oaths pushed him onwar
d 
. . .

. . . and something else. Something deep and primal within his very blood . . .

He took a step forward and then another, broken boots falling from his bloodied feet. He concentrated on the steps, counting each one as he walked, though never getting past two.

One, two. One, two. He walked.

After what seemed like an eternity, he tripped and sprawled out onto the rocks. He groaned and pushed himself to his knees, spitting out blood. He glanced back the way he had come, his path clearly marked by his jagged, bloody footsteps. His path was wayward, but he noticed, with a sudden discordant surge of pride, it retained its forward progression.