Secrets Bound By Sand

by T. A. White

  *

  "How's he doing?" Tate asked as soon as she walked to the back of the wagon holding Ryu's unconscious body.

  The same, Night said around a big yawn. He gathered himself, rising from where he'd stretched out next to Ryu, keeping watch while Tate was busy.

  He stood and stretched, first his front and then his back legs.

  Tate climbed up into the wagon to take his place. She took Ryu's hand and held it as Night hopped to the ground.

  "Evan wants us to stay out of sight. We're too recognizable," she called after him.

  Don't insult me. I'm only seen when I want to be seen.

  Tate snorted at the arrogant statement. She lifted her hand and brushed the hair back from Ryu's forehead.

  "Do you remember when I was dying?" she asked him, her throat clogged and her voice was rougher than it should have been. "You told me I didn't have your permission to die. Well, the same goes for you. Whatever this is, you need to beat it and come back and help me solve this debacle. Do you hear me? I'm getting tired of waiting for you. Open your eyes, Ryu."

  As he had every time she'd had this conversation with him, he remained still and quiet, locked into whatever the minor god of the lake had done to him.

  Tate sat back with a sigh, scrubbing her hands over her face. She wished he'd just open his eyes and give her that arrogant smile that occasionally made her want to punch him in the throat. He could even be his normal aggravating self and she wouldn't complain.

  She wished they were in Aurelia with access to healers who could at least tell her what was wrong. The Ahnteela and another Avertine healer had looked at him and said there was nothing physically ailing him. She knew that. There wasn't a scratch on him that would explain this coma.

  The Ahnteela had said the battle was entirely in his hands. Nothing they did would help him. He'd have to save himself.

  Tate had never felt so helpless before. It left a bitter feeling in her mouth she didn't particularly care for.

  All she could do was wait and hope and pray—all things she'd never been particularly good at.

  The wagon jolted as they began to move.

  Tate stretched out next to Ryu and took his hand in hers. It was too hot to press against him, but she needed some contact, if only to reassure herself that he was still here.

  The hours passed, boredom setting in as she alternately napped or stared out the back of the wagon. Not that there was much out there that she could see, just the long caravan of the Avertine as they bounced over the rough ground.

  She steadied Ryu as they hit a deep rut, bouncing hard enough to rattle teeth.

  They slowed to a stop seconds later. She heard rustling from the front as the driver and his passenger hopped down. Tate moved to the opening at the rear of the wagon, pausing and listening.

  Why had they stopped? Had they run into some of the Harridan's people?

  Tate waited, crouched just out of sight.

  She hated having to hide. It made her feel weak and useless, two things she had striven to never be. She didn't like feeling this way now, but she also refused to let her feelings control her or impel her to reckless behavior.

  She might not be able to control the situation, and that might inspire feelings of helplessness, but that wasn't the reality. In every situation there was a choice and a decision to make. Right now, she chose to trust the Avertine to uphold their word. She would continue to do so until the very moment they gave her a reason not to.

  So, as much as her instincts begged her to take action, she waited, tense and on edge.

  Evan appeared, his expression serious. "Everyone alright back here?"

  Tate nodded, relaxing. "A little bruised but hanging on."

  He slapped the side of the wagon as he pushed off. "It's going to get more difficult from here on out. The terrain is rockier and when we reach the cliffs, we may have to leave the wagons behind."

  Tate nodded.

  "We're far from the roads. It should be safe for you to get out and stretch your legs," he said. "One of my people can sit with the dragon for a time."

  Tate hesitated, looking back at Ryu. It felt wrong to leave him to someone else.

  "You're not helping him by sitting at his side being mournful," Evan said. "You have to look after yourself too, or you'll burn out. Get out, take a look around. There's plenty of time to mope over his unconscious body later."

  "You're a regular barrel of cheer. It's shocking, really, how you and Dewdrop ever fell out with each other."

  The grin he flashed her was merciless, full of steel and hard edges. "You don't live as long as I do without acquiring a few sharp edges. I give good advice. It's up to you whether you take it or not."

  He walked away before Tate could respond.

  She sighed before climbing down. He had a point, even if it galled her to listen to him. Evan, more than the Ahnteela or any other Avertine, rubbed her the wrong way. She still held a trace of animosity for him because of the way he had treated Dewdrop. She didn't know if she'd ever get to the point where she and he would see eye to eye.

  She winced as she took several steps, her body aching from being cooped up in the wagon too long. Parts of her were bruised that she didn’t know could be bruised.

  She waited by the wagon until a boy younger than Dewdrop approached. He was short and gangly, with a mop of curly hair falling over one eye. His smile was crooked as he jumped into the wagon with a single bound.

  With someone watching over Ryu, it left Tate free to explore.

  She took in her surroundings, different than anything she’d seen in Silvain so far. The land here wasn't flat, nor did it hold the promise of green, growing things in the distance. It was as arid and dry as much of the terrain Tate had found herself in over the past few weeks. Stark but beautiful.

  Red monoliths towered over their little caravan. On the other side of their path, the peaks and valleys of the land rolled into sharp hills and rocky cliffs. At least they weren't sand dunes, Tate thought pessimistically.

  Not that they were any less difficult to traverse, especially in the wagons. One hidden rock could destroy an axle and delay them hours.

  They could have left them behind, but that would have meant leaving Ryu—something Tate wouldn't consider.

  To her surprise, Evan had felt similarly.

  Avertine's lives were held within their wagons. It made for slower travel over terrain that would probably be more easily navigated by foot or horseback. But leaving them behind was tantamount to losing their identity.

  Tate's long legs took her further and further from the caravan as she sought to get rid of some of her excess energy. She pulled the airy cloak that Evan had given her closer, making sure her head was adequately covered. The Ahnteela's green paste might do wonders for sunburns, but Tate didn't want to risk another one so soon.

  Her skin was still recovering from the last one.

  She made her way along the faintest impression of a trail that wound up the side of one of the monoliths. She paused halfway up and took a seat, watching as the Avertine got out and stretched their legs beneath her perch.

  There was a slight scrape of claws on rock before Night bounded up beside her. Tate didn't stir, unsurprised he had decided to join her.

  He’d been tailing her since she left the wagon.

  He shook himself all over before flopping onto his side and stretching out on the hot rock.

  "You look like you're enjoying yourself," Tate said.

  It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a place like this.

  "Do you ever think about leaving Aurelia and finding somewhere similar to this?" Of leaving her and Dewdrop? She kept that last part unvoiced, afraid it revealed too many of her own insecurities. "I know Tala offered you the choice."

  He was quiet as he thought over her question. This place makes me remember I’m not some tame pet. I was built to kill. Out here, no one would judge me for my instincts, but as free as this place makes me feel, it’s not wit
hout its own dangers. To live here would be to embrace my more savage side. It would be a hard life.

  Tate didn't say anything as they stared over the red tinted landscape.

  My life in Aurelia is stifling at times, but it suits me. The hunting is different, but it is still hunting. That is enough.

  Tate hid her relief, keeping her face aimed at the scenery in front of them as they sat in silence, waiting for the tail of the Avertine group to catch up below.

  She didn't know what she'd do if Night, Willa and Pax decided they wanted to embrace the needs of their non-human side. She wouldn't stand in their way. She knew what it was like to have a part of yourself missing and not know how to fix it. Losing them would hurt, but she wouldn't want them to sacrifice huge pieces of themselves to keep her from feeling loneliness.

  Even she felt the wild beauty of this place. It pulled at her instincts, whispering of a simpler life without the politics or rules of the capital. The Silvain territory was dangerous and harsh, but it left you feeling alive. Each moment was precious because the next wasn't guaranteed.

  Night lifted his head, his body tensing the slightest bit. To a stranger he would still seem relaxed and unconcerned. For Tate, who had been with him through many dangerous situations, that slight shift in posture was as loud as a shout on someone else.

  He had sensed something.

  She didn't bother asking what, not wanting to interrupt his concentration.

  She pretended relaxation she didn't feel, her senses becoming hyperalert as she held herself ready.

  We’re being watched.

  Tate didn't give any indication she had heard him. She didn't want their possible watchers to know she and Night could communicate.

  We should head back and warn the others.

  "You take the quick way," Tate murmured, pushing herself to standing.

  He flashed her a look of protest.

  "I can take care of myself. You've seen me do it more than once. There are those more vulnerable down there. Warn the rest. I'll catch up," she told him, her thoughts on Ryu.

  None of them have been kidnapped twice in less than a few months, he told her sourly.

  She grimaced. She'd known he’d find a way to bring that up eventually.

  Night turned toward the side of the small outcropping they'd been sitting on. Try not to let anything happen to you, or else I'll have to listen to Dewdrop whine about being left out again.

  "Hasn't he had enough of being kidnapped already?" Tate muttered.

  Night shot her a smug look over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming as he tilted his whiskers at her. That's right—I'm the only one smart enough to not get caught.

  Tate rolled her eyes at him as he disappeared from sight. Arrogant bearcat.

  She started down the small trail she'd taken up the side of the cliff, finding to her dismay going up was easier than going down. Her heart leapt into her throat several times as her feet slid, threatening to send her over the drop next to her.

  She ended up with scrapped hands before finally reaching the bottom. With the caravan in sight, Tate hurried toward it while trying not to give the appearance of hurrying.

  She was only halfway there when Silva materialized around her one by one, as if ghosts. Tate froze in place, conscious of the threat radiating off the strangers.

  They gave off a different feeling than other Silva. Wilder, almost feral. As if their proximity to this untamed setting had soaked into their very souls, leaving its mark on them.

  A slim youth stood between her and the caravan, staring at Tate with inhuman eyes, their color a silver so pale it was almost white, her hair long and snarled where it had escaped her braid. She'd pushed back the wooden eagle mask she wore, the wood cracked and brittle with age, the beak curved and sharp. Out of the mask’s sides, gray and white features sprouted. A red string was all that held the mask in place.

  She was dressed warmer than Tate thought comfortable for the weather. It wasn't as hot here as it had been during the trek across the Dunes of Revelation, but it wasn't cool enough for the hooded jacket or the fingerless gloves she wore.

  She was the wind given form, fierce, wild and capricious. Tate could see why people feared this place if this was an example of who stood sentry.

  She might be young, perhaps even close to Dewdrop's age, but she wielded the two curved blades she held with precision and ease.

  Tate glimpsed a backpack-like contraption on the Silva’s back, small fabric protrusions barely sticking out on either side as if they'd been retracted.

  Wings, a faint voice whispered in the back of her mind.

  Tate stilled, while her heart raced with excitement. Ilith?

  The youth remained behind as her companions moved on silent feet toward the caravan.

  A warning hovered on Tate’s lips, one she swallowed when the sharp tip of the girl's blade touched her throat.

  Tate held her tongue, not because of fear, but because the girl's companions weren't alone. Others dropped out of the sky like silent birds—unseen until too late. Ilith had been right. The thing on the girl's back were wings of some sort.

  The caravan was already surrounded. No amount of warning on Tate's end would prevent what was coming. Tate preferred to die for a good reason, not because of stupidity.

  Trouble? Already? Ilith grumbled.

  An overwhelming sense of relief distracted Tate from the danger around. You're alive.

  There was a small grumbling as her dragon wound her way from the bottom of Tate's shoulder blade, over her shoulder and down onto her chest.

  Of course. I am Ilith.

  You've been unresponsive for four days, you daft dragon! Tate's excitement swung from relief to anger.

  There was a small harrumph. Only two days.

  Tate's eyes narrowed. Either her dragon wasn't aware of how long she had been sleeping or she’d been playing dead for the last two days. Judging by the small trace of smugness threading through their exchange and the fact Ilith's voice had conveniently returned when Tate needed her most, Tate thought it might be the latter.

  Why didn't you answer me? Tate snapped.

  Despite her relief at Ilith’s return and her frustration over its delay, it wasn’t enough to distract her from the Avertine being dragged from their wagons and forced into a circle. They went calmly enough, submitting when the Silva guided them to where they wanted. As far as Tate could see, no one was being hurt.

  However, she didn’t see either of her friends among those being herded into the circle.

  Recovering, was Ilith's short answer.

  You couldn't have at least let me know you were alright?

  Recovering, Ilith sent emphatically.

  Tate internally sighed at the stubbornness and lack of guilt in that statement. Recovering, indeed.

  Tate left the argument with Ilith for later, tuning back into her surroundings as she considered her best course of action.

  We fight? Ilith asked hopefully.

  Tate got the image of a forearm long dragon staring up at her questioningly as she fluttered her wings before settling them along her back.

  We're outnumbered.

  Never outnumbered. We are dragon, was the emphatic statement.

  "You nearly died last time, stupid," Tate muttered.

  That was past. Now is now, Ilith said, sounding philosophical.

  "That was only four days ago," Tate reminded her.

  The youth in front of them shifted, the implacable expression turning questioning as she started paying more attention to Tate. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out who Tate was talking to. Tate shifted as she resolved to speak mentally. It wasn't easy. Hence her slip into speech.

  I become ascendant and eat the flying prey. Not outnumbered, Ilith thought smugly at Tate, whipping her tail back and forth in anticipation of the hunt.

  No. "No." Tate repeated the emphatic rejection aloud as well. She ignored the way the girl's head moved slightly.

  Never any fun, Il
ith thought sulkily.

  Tate heaved a small sigh of relief that her dragon wasn't going to push this issue.

  Commotion from the caravan caught her attention. Her heart tightened painfully as she noticed the Silva congregating around the wagon where Ryu's unconscious body was.

  She tried to keep her worry hidden deep inside, knowing if Ilith sensed a threat to their mate, Tate might lose control of the entire situation. There she went, using Ilith's term for him, Tate thought to herself in disgust.

  The youth abruptly whipped the bottom of her staff up, jabbing it toward Tate's face. Tate barely had time to react before she found her hood thrust back from her face by the butt of the staff.

  The youth's eyes widened before she turned toward the caravan and roared a warning.

  The sound was drowned out seconds later by a deeper more primal roar coming from the caravan. Everyone started, the fear of a bigger, badder predator taking hold.

  The youth forgot about Tate as she took two steps toward the noise. Too late.

  The wagon splintered apart as a large, reptilian body burst out of it, wings spread wide as he roared a challenge.

  "Ryu," Tate breathed, relief making her dizzy.

  The youth whirled on her, realization on her face. She strode over to Tate.

  "I wouldn't do that," Tate tried to warn as the Silva grabbed her wrist and yanked her sleeve up.

  "Dragon-ridden," the girl murmured. She lifted her head to meet Tate's gaze, anger and something else on her face.

  Fear. It was fear.

  Understandable, given a dragon had erupted out of that wagon like some beast out of the belly of the earth.

  Night leapt from the small shrub he'd been hiding behind, unseen, until he landed on the girl, knocking her away from Tate and riding her to the ground.

  The girl landed on her back, spear still clutched in her hand. Tate stomped on the end, making sure she couldn't use it on Night.

  She needn't have worried as the girl lay still, Night's teeth wrapped around her neck. It would take less than a pound of pressure from the bearcat's jaws to rip out her throat.