Secrets Bound By Sand

by T. A. White

  He inclined his head, folding his arms in a manner she recognized from other guardians. It lost some of its authority without the aid of long, wide sleeves to hide his hands.

  He hesitated, his expression hard to read as she studied him. "Maybe, but I thought the chance they would recover you was excellent."

  "Hmm." Tate remained unconvinced.

  It also didn't explain why Dewdrop had brought him to his people, the Avertine, many of whom violated the doctrine of the guardians.

  "It was probably a good thing he ended up with us," Dewdrop said, his expression serious.

  Tate looked at him, keeping her silence as he took a deep breath.

  "Everyone Ryu sent to Silvain has been put under house arrest," he said.

  Tate blinked. Then blinked again.

  Silence filled the tent as she remained speechless.

  Dewdrop continued, sounding like he was forcing each word out. "The Harridan took insult when you didn't appear. We're not sure of everything that happened after that, but from what we've heard from other Avertine and Silva, it sounds like she's threatening to withdraw from the empire and is using your absence as an excuse to do so."

  Tate looked between the two of them with dismay on her face. That was a worst-case scenario. So bad, it hadn't been in any of their planning strategies.

  They'd thought if things went wrong, the Silva might cry blood feud against the Guardians and the Black Order. Maybe declare their territory off-limits to them and others. Not withdraw from the empire entirely.

  "Why would they do that?" Tate asked.

  Dewdrop shook his head. "We don't know."

  Tate let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. "We sent Roslyn into that."

  "I know."

  They couldn't just leave her, not when it was Tate and Ryu's fault she was there in the first place. Tate didn't have it in her to abandon Roslyn. She couldn't have done it even when Roslyn was a stranger and especially not now that she'd become a friend.

  Stop blaming yourself, Night said, his mental voice sour. None of us could have predicted this. If you’re going to blame anybody you should blame Ryu and us for sending her in your place.

  Night’s enigmatic gaze held hers. The bearcat had a very good grasp of how her mind worked. He knew she wouldn’t blame them for something that was out of their control even if she wouldn’t give herself the same courtesy.

  Dewdrop’s expression was grave as he waited. Tate saw what she hadn’t earlier. His guilt matched the weight of the one she’d been trying to put on her shoulders. If she continued in this vein, she’d only make his burden worse, when he and Night didn’t deserve it.

  Tate took a deep breath and nodded. Night was right. None of them deserved to carry the weight for actions that weren’t their fault in the first place.

  “What about Jacob? He’s a dragon. They’re not exactly easy to keep grounded. He should have been able to protect them from this,” Tate said, another thought occurring to her.

  Dewdrop shook his head regretfully. “We don’t know. No information about him has made it out.”

  "Do you have a way in?"

  Dewdrop shared a look with Night before jerking his chin down in a sharp nod. "We've been working on one."

  "Is it something we need to implement now?" Tate asked, her eyelids drooping as exhaustion threatened to get the better of her.

  Whatever she and Ilith had done, had consumed a massive amount of energy. She needed to recuperate. At the moment she was running on dregs, but if Dewdrop told her they needed to act, she'd find a way to drag her weary body off this pallet and get to work.

  "You will rest," the Ahnteela ordered from her corner. She'd been quiet until now, waiting, listening. She got to her feet, her bones creaking as she stood.

  The woman was ancient but looked almost ageless despite the wrinkles in her face. Her eyes were slightly more tilted than a human's, but they were wise and knowing as she handed the bowl she'd been tending to Tate.

  When Tate hesitated, the Ahnteela arched an eyebrow at her. Amusement creased the corners of her eyes and lips. "Do you think I would drug you?"

  "If it suited your agenda—yes."

  The Ahnteela—Tate still wasn't sure if that was a title or name—threw her head back, her warm chuckle filling the room.

  "You're not filling me with confidence," Tate said dryly.

  "Child who is my elder, you are as weak as a newborn. If I truly meant you harm, I would simply need to act."

  A knife appeared at Tate's throat. Vale inhaled sharply. Tate eyed the paper-thin skin of the other woman’s hand, the small signs of age, before meeting the Ahnteela's gaze.

  "Point taken." Tate took in Night's crouch, his focus locked on the Ahnteela's throat. Dewdrop's lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed as he stared at his ancestor. She had no doubt he had one of his deadly screams ready to be released if necessary. "But I think you’re underestimating the extent of my defenses."

  The Ahnteela settled back, an unexpected smile gracing her face. "You have always been talented at making powerful friends who'd lay down their lives for you."

  "Now you make me sound mercenary." Tate raised the bowl and sniffed it. The odor wasn't as unpleasant as she'd expected. It was delicate and hard to pinpoint, the aroma subtle as it teased before dissipating.

  "It'll help with the pain and exhaustion you feel," the Ahnteela said.

  Tate made a face but drank it. The taste was refreshing and soothing, making her think of cooler days where the feel of the sun on her skin didn't make her grimace.

  "Is this your own remedy?" Vale asked as he leaned closer, his eyes bright with interest. "What's in it? Did you take plants from nearby or were they ones you had in stock?"

  His questions came rapid-fire as the rest of them gazed at him in startlement. It was the most animation and interest he'd displayed in the entire time Tate had known him. Normally he was content to hang back. A watcher more than a participant.

  He gave them a sheepish look. "I have a fascination with herbology and its use in medicine."

  "Perhaps you could pursue this hobby at a better time," the Ahnteela said with a hint of reproach.

  Vale got a guilty look on his face as he composed himself, adopting his disinterested mask.

  Tate liked him better for the blunder. It made him less the irreproachable guardian and more human, with the accompanying flaws and weaknesses.

  Tate took several more sips of the drink, draining it in seconds. Once she had finished the bowl, the Ahnteela set another bowl in front of her. This one was filled with a mint green paste. "This one we will put on your skin to help with the burns."

  Tate grimaced at it. Until the Ahnteela said something, Tate had been able to ignore the tight, uncomfortable feeling of the skin on her face and any area that had been exposed to the sun. Her face was the worst of it, her lips swollen and stinging, the skin prickling with warning. In a few hours, her discomfort was going to get a whole lot worse.

  Dewdrop and Night peered into the bowl. Night's tongue flicked out, tasting the paste before disgust wrinkled his nose. He raised a paw trying to scrub the taste off his tongue.

  "That's what you get for being so curious," the Ahnteela chided. "Now, both of you, out."

  Night decided he'd had enough of the Ahnteela's concoctions and prowled out of the tent without even a glance in Tate's direction. After a nod from Tate, Dewdrop uncurled from his seated position on the floor with obvious reluctance.

  "You can resume your conversation when she's rested," the Ahnteela called after her many times great-grandson.

  He grumbled in response.

  "Your relationship seems to have improved," Tate observed.

  The Ahnteela made a sound of agreement.

  "How did you know where to be when he needed you?" Tate asked. She'd heard Dewdrop's chain of events but she had a feeling more was going on than he knew.

  It was too big a coincidence for the Ahnteela and Evan's tribe to be exactl
y where he needed them to be at the right moment.

  Briefly, she considered whether the Avertine might have had something to do with her abduction, but she discarded the notion as quickly as it occurred to her. For all the Avertine enjoyed a warmer welcome in Silva territory, they were still outsiders.

  "You don't believe in fate?" the Ahnteela asked, taking a big glop of the mint green paste and smoothing it over Tate's forehead.

  Her eyes slid shut at the blessed relief it brought, momentarily replacing the uncomfortably tight feeling. The paste felt cool on her hot skin.

  "Fate is intercepting a pickpocket in a street market or saving a bearcat from a cage, only to have them become two of the most important people in the world to you," Tate said as the Ahnteela continued covering her skin. She finished Tate’s face and moved on to her hands and lower arms. "It isn't arranging for an entire troop of Avertine to be where they’re needed right in the middle of a catastrophe."

  The Ahnteela dipped her chin, her expression warm. "Perhaps it's both."

  She set Tate's hand down and reached for the other. "We have been hunting the man you awoke in the catacombs. Our hunt led us here."

  "That would explain the presence of his shade," Tate said grimly. But not how it became attached to her.

  The Ahnteela inclined her head. “I have not heard of one of those being used since your war and the turbulent years directly after.”

  “What were they exactly?” Tate asked.

  “They were impressions of an individual. Copies if you will. There are many uses for a shade. You could leave it to guide someone along a path after you were gone, or to leave an important message.”

  Tate nodded slowly as the words pricked at a half memory. She had a feeling she’d encountered one of those, but she couldn’t recall where or when.

  “They were often used as spies. Someone would insert the shade into the target’s consciousness, usually when they were unconscious. It would then sit there, gathering information and in rare cases influencing the victim’s thoughts. If you had one attached to you, it would mean someone thinks you know something they need.”

  The Ahnteela paused in her ministrations, her gaze going distant. “It concerns me that you’ve run across one. It points to the old ways being reawakened.”

  As if Tate's other problems weren't bad enough.

  "I find it interesting you were kidnapped around the same time he came to this part of the world," the Ahnteela continued.

  Tate frowned at her. "You think he had some hand in events."

  She wanted to say that was ridiculous, not to mention slightly paranoid, but she couldn't. The words got stuck in her throat.

  "Do you remember his name yet?" the Ahnteela asked. Her task finished, she sat back and wiped her fingers on a wet cloth Tate only just then noticed sitting by her side.

  She started to respond, but hesitated as she thought over the Ahnteela's words. Jaxon was the Savior Tate felt the most connection with, but she'd begun to get glimpses of others as her memories began to return in fits and starts. She didn’t have everything yet, but she could feel it lurking just out of reach.

  "I know he was one of us, but that's about it," Tate said.

  The Ahnteela turned, grabbing a cast iron teapot decorated with several strange beasts. It gleamed with a red gloss as she scooped out a thin mesh strainer and removed the tea leaves. She poured the liquid into two small cups with the same finish and decorations as the pot. She put the teapot down before picking up one cup and setting it beside Tate.

  The other she picked up and held to her lips, taking several bracing sips before she began to talk again, her voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller's. "He was your contemporary."

  "He was my friend," Tate stated. Her glimpse at the hidden archives of the guardians suggested as much.

  "Not necessarily," the Ahnteela disagreed.

  Tate's eyebrows lowered in question.

  "From what my research has shown, he always hung on the periphery of your circle. There, but not quite one of you," the Ahnteela said, her head tilted as she chose her words carefully. "He didn't rise to influence until well after your sleep."

  "He seemed to recognize me.” His words had suggested a personal relationship. He hadn't acted like he was a stranger.

  "I have no doubt. You are similar to how you were then. A bright, shining presence that can't help but leave the world changed in your wake. It is hard to overlook you since even your smallest actions often have far reaching consequences."

  Tate was silent as she considered that. The Ahnteela had more memories of the time before the long sleep than Tate, but she couldn't shake the feeling it was more personal than the Ahnteela suggested.

  "What else can you tell me about him?" Tate asked, leaving the subject of her connection with him for another time.

  "He was not in the main circle as I said. That was you, Jaxon, Suz, Kenneth, and Trace. You five were the leaders. Your paths only diverged after your goals started to change. The stranger's time came long after the infighting began."

  "The five of us didn’t end as friends then," Tate said, letting her head rest against the pillow as she got more comfortable. She'd had a feeling something had happened—otherwise how else had she ended up in that chamber, asleep for thousands of years.

  The Ahnteela's eyes held pity as they met Tate's. "War forces evolution. People adapt and change as their very survival is challenged. This leads to shifts in goals. In your case and later Jaxon's and Suz's, this resulted in a falling out with some in your circle."

  Tate was silent for several long seconds. "Over what?"

  For the first time the Ahnteela hesitated. "I don’t know."

  Of course, she didn't. It'd be too easy, and therefore suspicious, if she had.

  "Talk to your dragon. She knows more than she's telling you," the Ahnteela said.

  Tate's laugh was raw. "Of that I'm sure. The problem with getting a dragon to talk is they're more finicky than cats and more ornery than them too."

  Tate said nothing about the fact she could no longer hear Ilith's voice. She'd hoped after the shift that the issue would fix itself, but apparently not. There was a chance that after she'd rested a little while and replenished her resources, she would achieve homeostasis, allowing her to hear Ilith again.

  It was that little bit of hope that allowed Tate to listen when the Ahnteela said, "Rest now and regain your strength. You have much to set to right in the coming days."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "There they are." Dewdrop found his feet as Evan and another Avertine crested the hill.

  It had been four days since Tate had awoken after Ilith had flown them to safety, and it felt like they were no closer to the Harridan's city. Not for lack of trying on their part.

  Worse, Ryu was still unconscious and Ilith's presence was considerably subdued. Tate had only caught whispers of her voice, and she was starting to grow concerned.

  "Any luck?" Dewdrop asked when Evan and the other man reached them. Evan and Wilson had left early that morning to scout out another potential route to the city.

  Evan shook his head. "No, that road is blocked too. They have militia posted all along it doing searches of anyone who passes."

  "We had an interesting time trying to evade their patrols," the other man said. He was medium height with a stocky build and a face that inspired trust. His eyes were kind despite his gruff exterior. His hair was shaggy and long, and unlike most of the Avertine, he had a beard. His skin had been weathered by the sun and elements, making him seem a few years older than he probably was.

  The camp had already been moved twice to avoid patrols. Tate wasn't sure how much longer they could keep up this game of cat and mouse—especially when it was Silva after them.

  The Silva were talented trackers. They had a superior sense of smell and hearing. Their time spent in the wilds had further instilled in them the ability to read the land and see the signs left by those traversing it.

&nbs
p; It was only a matter of time before the Avertine were discovered, no matter how confident Evan was they could stay one step ahead.

  Evan nodded. "The Loas and Siva roads are similarly patrolled. We'll need to head to the Kinjisan cliffs."

  Wilson whistled. "Risky. The inhabitants there are the wildest and most untamed of the Silva clans. They don't welcome outsiders—even those of your ilk, old friend."

  "I don't see much of a choice," Evan admitted. "Every other path is likely to be crawling with the Harridan's forces. It's that or allow your dragon to fly you in."

  The last part was directed at Tate.

  She hesitated. If that had been an option, she'd be tempted to take it. However, with the bond between her and Ilith still weak, Tate didn't want to chance another dangerous shift. Not after last time.

  "Let's keep that option in reserve for later," Tate said.

  "Fair enough," Evan said. "We'd have to take this route anyway with the rest of the troop. The Harridan's forces are choking off our retreat."

  "We're agreed then," Wilson said. "I'll give the family heads the news. They'll start packing so we can begin our journey to the cliffs."

  The two men left for their tasks.

  When Tate started to speak, Dewdrop held up his hand. "Don't even think about trying to talk me into remaining behind."

  She closed her mouth and studied him. "I don't know why you would think I was going to do that."

  It was exactly what she'd been about to do.

  He scoffed. "Please, I know how you think. It's not happening. You can get it out of your head. I'm a fully accepted member of this family. I share in its dangers and its victories."

  "You're also not quite an adult," Tate pointed out. "I wouldn't want Willa or Pax joining us if they were here."

  "In my culture I'm considered old enough to marry and start a family," Dewdrop said, calmer than he’d been in the past when she’d made this same argument. "Also, I know for a fact you would leave Night behind too, if you thought he would stay."

  Tate's mouth snapped shut and she looked away.

  Very true.

  "I know it's in your nature to protect," Dewdrop said. "But, we're family. You said it yourself—family sticks together. They have each other's backs in difficult times and good. Don't go ruining it by trying to be a martyr. You'll just make the bearcat angry."