by T. A. White
There was a special level of misery involved in walking across sand. It got everywhere—worst of all were the tiny grains that worked their way into her boots until blisters had begun to form on her toes and the bottom of her right foot.
It was only going to get worse once the sun fully breached the horizon, heating the sand to blistering hot. There was little shade here, leaving them exposed to the full force of its rays.
To add to the situation, Christopher had spent most of the last hour complaining about testosterone-poisoned dragons and the temper tantrums they threw. For the most part, she ignored him and was thankful Ryu's long stride meant he was far enough ahead to be spared most of the other man's ire. She only wished she could take advantage of the same, instead of being forced to hold the rope they’d used to tie the two men’s hands with.
Peter, at least, was quiet, trudging behind her with his head down, his companion an irritating presence behind him.
Tate lifted her head to check on Ryu's progress, finding him standing at the crest of a dune as the sun peeked above the horizon, little fingers of pinks, oranges, and violets streaking across the sky, heralding its ascent.
The rope jerked in Tate's hand, distracting her. She glanced back to find Christopher sprawled on the side of the dune.
"I need a break," he panted.
Peter knelt beside him, concern on his face. The Silva didn't look as bad as Christopher, but Tate could see the weariness in him.
"Make it to the top of this dune and we'll stop for a little bit," she said.
Irritation flashed across Christopher's face. To her surprise, he stayed silent as Peter helped him to his feet.
The dune's slope was unstable, every step a chore, as the sand shifted and slid under her feet, threatening to send her back down the hill.
Finally, they reached Ryu. Christopher collapsed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. Peter sat beside him, looking over the way they'd come, their footprints marking their path. At least, if they decided to head back to the road, it would be easy to backtrack.
Tate dropped the rope, tired of holding it. The two weren't going to get far out here. Especially Christopher. He might be dangerous, but she doubted he had the energy or stamina to make a run for it.
Even if he did, Ryu's dragon could always make good on its promise to eat him.
Ryu's lean form was silhouetted against the beginnings of dawn. Tate joined him to survey the vista spread before them. Sand dunes rippled across the land, snaking lines that shifted and changed, an ever-evolving landscape hostage to the whim of the wind.
In the distance to their left, a long line of terracotta cliffs and tall rock formations resided as silent sentries of the shifting dunes. Far past them, more of an impression than reality, were the dim forms of mountains.
The land looked barren and sparse, beautiful in a desolate sort of way. It called to the depths of the soul even as it warned that those who attempted to cross its length, did so at their own peril.
In a strange way it reminded Tate of the snow swept plains of the northern reaches where she'd first woken, a place as isolated and dangerous as this. Seemingly unlivable at first glance, but for those strong enough to survive its harsh climate, it offered unspeakable wonders.
"The Dunes of Revelation. In Silva culture, they send only the strongest—those who might one day lead—into these dunes without supplies. They must reach the other side to prove their worthiness. Some don't survive. Those who do are said to be blessed by their ancestors. There are stories of what these sands hide. Whispers of a being who will help reveal an individual’s inner self while testing their fortitude. Those who meet this being come home changed. It's considered an honor to make the attempt," Peter said from behind them.
Tate was silent, disturbed by the suggestion of a being. It sounded too much like Ai and another of the minor gods she'd met. Impossible here, where there were none of the structures the Saviors had built to contain and house them.
It was possible those who spoke of an ancestor haunting the sands suffered from severe dehydration and hallucinations.
"You want to cross these?" Tate asked skeptically.
Ryu's nod was grave. "We have to."
She stared towards those cliffs in disbelief. They seemed very far away. And Ryu wanted them to cross something so treacherous it had claimed countless Silva lives? No pressure or anything.
"You've been here before?" Tate asked, unable to help the reluctance in her voice. She really didn’t want to do this.
He shook his head. "Never. This place is unwelcoming of strangers and even the Silva typically steer outsiders away."
"I hate to admit it, but I’m beginning to side with Christopher—we should have stayed on the road. Why didn't we?”
Tate hadn’t really questioned when they left it, assuming Ryu had a plan and destination in mind. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The road meant easier travel and more importantly, water sources.
"We're being followed," Ryu said in a voice only meant for her ears.
Tate jerked, her gaze searching as he met her eyes. The seriousness of his expression told her how precarious their situation was.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "The Silva confirmed it. He picked up their scent slightly before I did."
She blinked, her gaze going back to the vista before them. "And you brought us here?"
"Because this place is considered sacred to the Silva. I hoped if our followers were among the Morain they would fall back."
Tate didn't have to ask if his plan had worked. Judging by the direness in his voice, it hadn't.
She closed her eyes and bent her head. So now they were being pursued into a deadly environment with no food or water, let alone weapons to defend themselves with. She'd like to say she was surprised at the dangerous turn the situation had taken, but she really wasn't. Her life had a way of spiraling out of control.
"If it becomes too dangerous, I'll take the form of the dragon," Ryu warned her. There was a fierce resolution in his expression.
"You said the dragon would be dangerous right now."
"Not to you."
"Ryu, you can't kill them," Tate protested.
"Their lives mean nothing to me. Yours does," he said. "If it comes down to it, I'll choose your safety over theirs."
Ryu didn't wait for her to argue, walking over to where the two men sat. "You've had enough rest. Let's go."
He took the rope Tate had been carrying and used it to haul Christopher and Peter to their feet before setting out, walking down the sand dune.
Tate hesitated, looking down at the form of Ilith on her arm. "I really wish you were awake right now."
Her dragon didn’t grace her with an answer.
Tate scanned their backtrail one last time for signs of their pursuers. She had no doubt if anyone was following, they'd make their presence known soon enough. Probably at the worst possible second.
*
Tate looked up for the third time, checking their progress down the small valley between the two dunes towering over them on either side. Their path had been a meandering one, full of ups and downs, as they snaked their way across the land.
Climbing the dunes wasn't always a viable option with the shifting sands providing treacherous footing. It forced them to cling to the backsides of the dunes which were slightly more stable.
One benefit of traveling in the valleys between dunes was it allowed them to avoid distant prying eyes. The shadow of the dunes wouldn't hide them for long, not with the trail of their footprints stretching in a long tail behind them. Even a child would easily be able to follow it.
The dune's looming shadow helped shelter them from the brutal sun, but Tate doubted they'd be able to rely on that much longer, the shadow shrinking as the sun approached its zenith.
Endless sand and dunes stretched before them. From their vantage, Tate had no idea if they were any closer to the cliffs or if they had just gone in circles for the past hour. It w
as difficult staying motivated enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other when she couldn't even lie to herself that they were almost there.
The journey was a harsh gut check, delving deep as it tested their discipline and the strengths of their minds over the weakness of their bodies.
Trying to think past her growing thirst and the gnawing teeth in her belly was difficult.
Over and over again she'd been told how dragons ate more than the other races. Her own experience supported that claim. Dragon-ridden needed fuel to keep their other half healthy. A hungry dragon was no one's friend.
"Ilith, now would be a good time for you to pipe up," Tate said as she lifted her gaze to take in the backs of her companions.
Tate doubted Ilith could carry three people on her back while flying, but she could certainly walk. Maybe give Tate a break for a few hours.
Only silence echoed back at her.
Tate's shoulders slumped. How much longer was her dragon going to be silent? The longer she went without Ilith, the more wrong her body felt. It was like there was a hole in the bottom of her soul with parts of her essence leaking through it. She didn't know what would happen when the last of piece of her slipped away.
Peter's back loomed in front of her abruptly, and Tate stumbled to a halt. She lifted her head in surprise to find the other three had stopped, all of them staring down at the sand.
Curious, Tate peered around them for a better look. Her heart fell to her stomach and hopelessness sank its sharp claws in.
Stretching into the distance was a line of footprints, winding around the dune before they disappeared. Even from her limited abilities to read trail signs, she could tell these were made by several people walking in a line—much like they had been for the past two hours.
"Maybe they're from someone else," Tate offered, even as she couldn't quite bring herself to believe the lie.
Peter crouched, bringing his nose to the ground as he inhaled several times. He straightened and looked up at them. "They carry our scent. We're walking in circles."
Tate's shoulders slumped.
Christopher let out a harsh groan and glared at Ryu. "So glad we left the road. Truly."
Ryu didn't respond, ignoring the other man as he stared into the distance with a contemplative look.
Christopher shook his head and kicked the sand before stalking as far away as the rope would allow. He folded his arms and sank down, lying back and putting one arm over his eyes.
Gone was the well-groomed and suave mastermind. This man was unkept and dirty, sporting a surprisingly full shadow of a day-old beard on his jaw and cheeks. He looked exhausted and tired, the length of cloth Peter had torn from the bottom of his long tunic shirt wrapped around his head to protect him from the sun's harsh rays.
"We could try for the road," Tate offered, even knowing it was a long shot at best. They might be able to follow the footprints back to their starting point at the oasis, but they still had no food and they were being followed. She didn't see their trackers allowing them time to recuperate before attacking. No, it was more likely they'd hit them while they were still exhausted and dehydrated.
Peter shook his head. "It won’t be so easy. The dunes don't allow you to leave once you enter. Our only way is forward."
Tate bit back her sharp remark. Of course, the dunes wouldn’t allow them to leave. Silly her to think things could ever be simple or straightforward.
Ryu's forehead wrinkled as he considered their options.
Peter stood, dusting the sand from his knees and hands. "The Dunes of Revelation are dangerous to the unwary. They're known for misdirecting travelers. There's a reason why we keep outsiders from trespassing here. Few can see past its traps."
Tate studied the Silva. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
He made a thoughtful sound. "Once. Long ago when I was much younger and stupider."
“Any suggestions on how to get out of here?” Tate asked crankily.
He shook his head regretfully. “The dunes shift daily. What might work once won’t necessarily do so again.”
There was a story behind those words. At another time, Tate might have been tempted to pry. For now, she was more focused on survival. And water.
Ryu closed his eyes, the skin around his mouth tight and drawn. Tate noted the bruises under his eyes and the exhaustion in his face. She hadn't considered it before now, but Ryu would have been going nonstop since her disappearance. His reserves had to be even more rundown than hers.
As Peter padded over to Christopher's side to check on him, Tate stepped forward, her shoulder brushing Ryu's. "How much trouble are you having with the dragon?"
His mouth tightened, the skin of his face thinning as the real him surfaced. Not the warrior or the empire's agent—just Ryu, tired, exhausted and at the end of his rope.
It was answer enough.
"My control hasn't been this tested since I first bonded with him. We sense danger all around us." His eyes slipped closed as pain echoed on his face. "It’s driving him mad. He pounds at my control as a result."
For Ryu, there could be nothing worse than the potential loss of control. It would have devastating consequences, considering his history.
"Hold the line," she said, tilting her head so her forehead rested on his shoulder.
"Always and ever."
His arms came up to close around her shoulders. Several seconds passed before they both drew back.
"It's forward or perish," she told him. "And I refuse to let this be my end."
His gaze was searching as it met hers. After several long seconds, his mouth quirked up into a slow, wicked smile that did nothing to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. "I expected nothing less out of you."
Her grin was filled with a confidence she didn't feel as she stepped away from Ryu. "Let's go, Christopher. Lying around isn't going to get us to those cliffs."
"Evidently, walking isn't either."
Tate ignored the grumpy, if accurate, statement.
Peter stood and held a hand down to the other man. "Come, my friend. We have a long way to go."
Christopher climbed to his feet with a groan. "You could at least take these ropes off."
"No." Ryu's answer was short and abrupt.
"Where am I going to go?" Christopher asked, gesturing to the isolated desert.
Ryu's smile was sharp and fierce, lacking warmth or humor. "I don't trust you, and I'm not giving you the opportunity to cause more trouble than you already have."
Ryu's decision was probably smart, even if it was inconvenient. Judging from both their histories with the other man, Christopher would pretend to be compliant and beaten until he saw his opportunity. Then he would strike. Something they couldn't afford given the precariousness of their situation.
Peter stepped forward, distracting his friend and preventing him from challenging Ryu further.
They fell into the same order as they had during the last leg of the journey. Ryu took the lead, their prisoners between them, and Tate followed in the rear.
The short rest had done little to reenergize them. Exhaustion and thirst were still a factor, making each foot forward an exercise in willpower.
This time Ryu angled for the top of the dunes. Walking along the crest of the dune carried its own risks. One misstep up here and it was a long, slow slide to the bottom.
Christopher stumbled, falling to his knees. Ryu didn't pause, yanking on the rope when he felt its resistance.
Peter hurried forward, helping his friend to his feet as they stumbled in Ryu's wake. All the while, the sun beat down on their heads, sapping their strength further.
They continued like that for what felt like an eternity.
The sun was several degrees past its zenith when Tate checked their backtrail again. She scanned the horizon, expecting to see nothing but the monotonous red and golds of the dunes snaking behind them.
Her gaze moved past them and then returned, a small glint catching her
eye. She stilled, her feet stopping as she turned to face the opposite direction.
She looked harder, squinting against the harsh glare as the bright sun reflected off the sand all around her. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes as she peered closer at the spot that had caught her attention.
There. Movement, just barely discernible.
Tate took several steps forward, staying focused on the whisper of motion. Could be the wind rustling some sand, she told herself. Except the wind was still.
Maybe an animal. Unlikely though, since they'd yet to find even the barest signs of one.
The form stood, taking the shape of a person before sliding down the dune. Several other shapes followed, all clad in clothes similar in shade to the dunes they traveled over.
Saviors curse it. Ryu and Peter had been right. They were being followed.
And their hunters were getting closer.
"Ryu, we have a problem," Tate called.
Several feet ahead, Ryu paused. He looked in the direction she was staring with a frown that grew more pronounced when he caught sight of the figures moving furtively along the crest of a dune they'd crossed several hours ago.
Ryu's expression was grim as he watched those hunting them.
"You were right. We are being pursued."
"Not right enough," he said. "Otherwise, we wouldn't face being chased through this deadly place."
"They're several hours behind us," Peter said, coming up next to her. "They'll face the same challenges as us. There's still a chance we can make it to the cliffs first."
Tate turned to look at the cliffs in question. They appeared no closer than they had when they started this journey.
Her attention caught on Christopher as he stared at their backtrail. It was hard to describe the expression on his face. It was a combination of many emotions: anger, fear, concern. Gone, almost as soon as he caught her looking at him.
He flashed her a cocky smile, all trace of emotion hidden as he reverted back to the annoying, snide madman with a god complex.
