Mirage

by Jenn Reese

After she’d practiced herself sick with the Serpenti cappo’ra and scrubbed her skin clean in the sand bath beside the practice area, she went looking for Dash. She found him in the Healer’s Hall, sitting by the bizarre web of hammocks that held Tayan off the ground.

  Aluna touched one of the many bolts anchoring the contraption to the rounded walls. “What is all of this?”

  The silence after the question spread like a great chasm between her and Dash. Please answer, she thought at him. Please.

  “Equians must not lie down for long, or their own body weight begins to crush their organs,” Dash said. “I was able to tell our hosts and help them construct a healing basket like the ones we use in the herd.”

  Aluna studied Tayan’s sleeping face. Even in the lantern light, there seemed to be more color on her cheeks.

  “She’s doing better,” she said.

  “Yes. The infection is gone,” Dash said. “Nathif says she will live, although she may never recover her former strength.”

  Aluna closed her eyes and let her forehead touch Tayan’s flank. She hadn’t realized how worried she’d been until just now. “Losing strength is going to really irritate her,” she said finally.

  Dash chuckled softly. “You have no idea.”

  “She’ll find a way to be just as dangerous,” Aluna said. “It might take her some time, but she’ll come up with something.”

  “Just as you will, when you have your tail,” Dash said.

  She turned to face him, her heart aching as if he’d stabbed it. She wanted him to be angry. She understood anger. She’d spent her whole life dealing with her father’s rage, learning how to throw it back at him. Dash’s quiet hurt confounded her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you.”

  “You did not trust me,” Dash said.

  She winced. “Of course I trust you. It wasn’t that. I didn’t want to burden anyone with it. Worrying is such a waste of energy. And Hoku and Calli, they expect me to be strong. If they knew that I’d be useless soon —”

  “Useless?” Dash jumped to his feet, his dark face finally showing signs of color. “When you broke my arm, was I useless?”

  “No, never!” she said.

  His dark eyes sparked. “Out in the desert, I called you one of the bravest people I knew. But you are also one of the stupidest.”

  She jerked back, stung.

  “You think your strength is in your arms? Your legs? Your body?” He paced back and forth in the small room. “I grew up surrounded by Equians. All taller, all stronger, all faster, all better equipped to live in the desert. Did that make me useless?”

  “No,” she said, softer. She never thought about his perspective. Tides’ teeth, how could she be so self-absorbed?

  “You think your friends need you for your muscle, for the way you spin a spear? Would you love Hoku any less if he stopped playing with his tech?”

  She thought of Hoku, of his freckled face and goofy grin, about his terrible swimming technique. There was nothing in the wide world that would make her love him less.

  Dash stopped before her. He lifted his hands toward her shoulders, but dropped them to his sides without touching her. “Trust us. Honor us,” he said quietly. “Believe that we will pay you the respect you already pay us.”

  He took a step closer. She forced herself to stare into the hot coals of his eyes.

  “Regardless of your strengths or weaknesses,” he said softly, “you must believe that we love you.”

  And then her face was in his hands. Tears streamed out of her eyes, and she heard herself sobbing and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Dash’s arms wrapped around her, and she leaned into his shoulder.

  “I don’t want to be weak,” she said. “I’m so scared of being weak.”

  He held her close. “Everyone is weak sometimes. That is why everyone needs friends.”

  DANTAI MET HOKU AND CALLI at the horse enclosure, a fresh bandage on his foreleg. Hoku frowned. Dantai was supposed to be Shining Moon’s best chance of beating High Khan Onggur at the Thunder Trials. Going in wounded was going to seriously hurt his chances.

  “Your leg!” Calli said. “How did it happen?”

  Dantai limped up to the security pad on the enclosure’s gate. “One of Weaver Sokhor’s men,” he said quietly. “After time was called on the match.”

  “What happened to him?” Hoku asked.

  “He apologized immediately, so honor did not allow further punishment,” Dantai said. He scanned the area before speaking again. “We do not wish to call out the Weaver until we know who his allies are.”

  Hoku grunted. “I’m guessing High Khan Onggur or Scorch is on that list.”

  “I fear you are correct,” Dantai said. “But for your own sake, do not say so aloud again.”

  While Dantai punched a number sequence into the security pad, Hoku noticed the black cords that had been woven into the blue and white strands in his braids. Blue and white were Shining Moon’s herd colors, but the black . . . the black was for mourning. Apparently the herd had officially given up on Tayan or the other warriors ever coming home. To be missing for so long in the desert meant death. Always.

  The gate slid open, and Dantai whistled twice. Two horses immediately trotted over — a frisky midnight-black mare and a slightly mangier stallion the same color as the sand.

  “Nightshade and Sunbeam,” Dantai said. “You must learn to ride them before the herd departs for the Thunder Trials.”

  “That’s not much time,” Hoku said, eyeing the horses. They seemed so much bigger up close. And more dangerous. One misplaced hoof and he’d be enjoying several broken bones. Back home he’d done his fair share of dolphin-drafting, but underwater it was easy to let go of the dolphin’s fins when you were done. There was no hard, unforgiving ground to contend with, and no uncomfortable sitting. It’s not like you could even tell the dolphin where to go — you were just a tagalong, holding on for the speed and excitement.

  “Careful with your wings,” Dantai told Calli. “Our horses do not spook easily, but they are unaccustomed to Aviars.” He smiled at her. The sort of smile that made Hoku want to throw up despite not being sick. “They do not yet realize your beauty.”

  Calli blushed. Hoku expected her to stammer out some sort of thanks, but instead she said sweetly, “If Aviars are so wondrous, why not let me join Shining Moon, so I can compete in the trials? Aviars and Kampii may not be from the desert originally, but we have a lot to offer.”

  Dantai chuckled as if she’d made a joke. “The khan has remained adamant on this point. Allies are desired — especially the winged kind — but he does not wish to contaminate our bloodline.” Hoku and Calli looked at each other. It took Dantai significantly longer to realize what he’d said. “No offense, of course.”

  Calli shrugged and mouthed at Hoku, “Equians. What can you do?”

  “In the spirit of not contaminating any existing herds, is there any way to make a new herd?” Hoku asked. He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but secretly he wanted a little to leak through. “I mean, if your herds die out over time, there has to be a way to add new ones, right?”

  Dantai shook his head and swished his tail. “Bloodlines are at the heart of our culture,” he said. “Every herd has a bloodline that stretches back hundreds of years to the dawn of Equian creation. Our khans prove themselves in battle and earn the right to wear the bloodline around their neck.”

  “How many herds are there?” Calli asked.

  “Twelve originally,” Dantai said, “but there are only eight now. Three — Whispering Gait, Golden Bow, and the hero Chabi’s herd, Flame Heart — were destroyed by the Serpenti in the Venom War. Hero Altan’s herd, Wind Seeker, was absorbed by Red Sky.”

  “‘Absorbed’ seems like a nice way to say it,” Hoku said.

  Dantai nodded, his face grim for a change. “Now, let us start our lesson.”

  Dantai was not a patient teacher. Or maybe he
wasn’t patient with Hoku. Calli kept opening her wings and letting the air pull her off her horse while it trotted. Dantai only laughed and praised her ingenuity. But when Hoku slid off his own horse — admittedly with great frequency — Dantai grumbled instructions in an ever more irritated voice.

  “A couple of saddles wouldn’t hurt,” Hoku grumbled, but not loud enough for Dantai to hear.

  Eventually, they mastered mounting, with the help of a stool, and staying on at a walk. Hoku’s thighs ached from gripping his horse’s body.

  “I had hoped we would make better progress, but I must return to my own training,” Dantai said. And then, just to be extra irritating, he added, “Calli, can you please help Hoku? You seem to have grasped the basics better than he has.”

  She grinned, but not from the praise. Hoku knew she’d be teasing him for weeks.

  When Dantai was gone, Hoku slumped on his horse. Sunbeam promptly headed for a bush and began chomping the coarse grass growing near its roots. Hoku looked down at his legs as they straddled Sunbeam’s back. The gears and gizmos in his brain started whirring.

  “Aluna won’t be able to ride Tal when she has her tail,” he said. “At least not like this.” He’d told Calli about Aluna’s news as soon as he could. She hadn’t even flinched. Maybe having wings makes you less concerned about not having feet. Hoku patted Sunbeam’s neck. The horse grunted but kept munching grass. “Stay still,” he told the animal. “Let me see something.”

  He pulled his right leg up and over so that both his legs were hanging down Sunbeam’s left flank. His whole body had twisted in the process. The only way he could sit comfortably was facing to the side.

  “That’s not going to work,” Calli said, trotting over. “You can’t ride a horse like that. Try twisting your body so you can see over Sunbeam’s head.”

  He followed her suggestion but couldn’t turn very much. Not until he’d shifted his knees forward as well. His body looked like a Z.

  “Can a Kampii tail bend like that?” Calli asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I do know that we lose our kneecaps and become more flexible. Maybe it’ll be even easier for her to sit like this.”

  “It’s not very stable,” Calli said. “If the horse bolted, you’d fly off the back. You can’t hold on with your legs.”

  “No,” he agreed. “We’ll have to build a harness for her tail, something that straps around Tal’s body.”

  “Ooh, Tal won’t like that, I bet,” Calli said.

  He pointed to his knees. “Something to hook her tail around up here.” Sunbeam shifted to the side, and Hoku’s feet thumped against the horse’s flank. “And something to keep her tail protected against Tal’s side back there.”

  “With Aluna’s tail on the left, we’ll want to put weights on the right. Tal will appreciate the balance,” Calli said. “I wish I had some paper! We should diagram this.”

  Hoku grinned. “Remember those gyroscopic stabilizers that Rollin had me pull out of the broken hovertray? I bet one of those would work as a counterweight, and help Aluna keep her balance, too!”

  “Gyroscopic stabilizers,” Calli squealed. “Perfect! In fact, I bet I could use those on the bow I’m designing to help the archer aim while she is galloping or flying.”

  And they were off. Not learning how to ride, but running back to Rollin’s tent for supplies and paper and reference books. Rollin’s eyes widened when Hoku told her what they were planning — well, her one real eye did, anyway.

  “Take all the gyros,” she said. “Some folk think the world of animals and the world of tech should never mix. Me, I just don’t like things that can bite being anywhere near my legs. But if you can find a way to make the riding safer and easier, might be that I’ll head to the Thunder Trials with you, just to see for myself what all the fuss is.”

  Hoku paused by the tent flap, his satchel stuffed with supplies. “You . . . wouldn’t want to help us, would you? You see, we need to build a structure for Aluna to sit on, but Calli and I aren’t so good with construction. . . .”

  “Please?” added Calli, her face flushed with excitement.

  Rollin said nothing but reached into her sack of hand parts and dug around. “I know I got me an attachment for working with hide somewhere. . . .”

  Hoku whooped and rushed to help her look.

  ALUNA TAPPED THE GROUND, indicating defeat. Her Serpenti opponent — a woman named Subira — released her coils from around Aluna’s chest and righted herself. Her bushy red hair bobbed behind her in a bunch.

  “Good match, sister,” Subira said, breathing hard. “You have learned quickly.”

  Aluna flopped onto her back and sucked in air. “Thank you, sister. But apparently I need to learn a lot more quickly, if I’m to avoid being crushed into pulp every time we spar.”

  Subira chuckled. “There are brothers and sisters here who have not yet learned that skill, even after a lifetime of trying. You are in excellent company.”

  “You honor me,” Aluna said.

  Subira bowed slightly and slithered off to rejoin the cappo’ra circle, no doubt in search of another victim.

  Aluna rolled back onto her shoulders, then flipped up onto her feet. Once standing, she leaned down to adjust the straps around her legs. They’d be fused completely soon. Maybe in weeks, maybe in months. The sooner she got used to life with a tail, the better. Underwater, young Kampii stayed immobilized in sticky beds while their legs fused. She had no such luxury. The best she could do was bind her legs together so she didn’t accidentally rip them apart. And the straps provided protection, too, so she could still learn her cappo’ra techniques without the risk of damaging her growing tail.

  She was tightening the bottom cinch when she heard the clomp of hoofbeats.

  “Did they kick you out of the mushroom stores again, Tal?” she said without looking up. “You’re going to forget how to eat cactus.”

  “Guess again.”

  Aluna stood up sharply and found Tayan looking down at her. A tiny hint of pink had returned to her pale cheeks. She’d tucked her wavy brown hair behind her ears, but strands of it strayed across her jawline. Tayan’s left arm rested in a sling, and might always do so. The healers had told her that if she used it, she might reopen the hole over her Human heart.

  “You’re well enough to be out of your room?” Aluna asked. “Without an escort?” The Serpenti might live by forgiving their enemies, but the Equians certainly didn’t. Someone should be watching Tayan at all times, regardless of her wound.

  “Calm yourself,” Tayan said. “Even I would not attack the people who saved my life. At least not without a weapon.”

  Aluna looked sharply at her, and Tayan twisted her mouth into a weak smile.

  “A sense of humor,” Aluna said. “Did they insert that when you were unconscious?”

  “No, I think being close to death did that all by itself,” she said. Her eyes strayed to the cappo’ra fighters in their circle. “You don’t find the drums maddening?”

  Aluna looked back at her fellow warriors, many of whom were becoming her friends. “I like the drums. We didn’t have much music in the ocean, except for whale songs and the endless nattering of the dolphins. But our drummers are some of the best. They spend their whole lives dedicated to it.”

  “I prefer the natural drums all Equians are born with,” Tayan said, stomping her foot. Even such a small display of strength seemed too taxing. She wilted as she stood there, her normally strong shoulders curving with exhaustion.

  “Are you going to be able to make the journey with us? To the Valley of the Dead? We need to leave soon,” Aluna said. “The Serpenti say it will take several days to get there.”

  Tayan pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I will make it,” she said. “My father may not believe what that traitor Sokhor has done unless I tell him myself.”

  “Agreed,” Aluna said.

  She heard more hoofbeats and turned to find Dash riding Tal at a full gal
lop toward them. Tal skidded to a stop with a snort, and Dash hopped off her back.

  “Come,” he said, almost too excited to talk. “Tal and I have been exploring. We found a hidden room. If we do not return right now, I might forget the way.”

  Tal shook her head and huffed.

  “Tal won’t forget,” said Aluna, patting the horse’s neck. “What’s in the room?”

  A smile spread across Dash’s face. “Tech!”

  A moment later, Aluna sat sideways behind Dash on Tal’s back, her bound legs thumping against Tal’s flank. She kept one hand on Tal’s back and the other gripped firmly around Dash’s waist. Tayan insisted on coming along, so they kept their pace slow despite Tayan’s repeated claims that she could gallop if necessary.

  “Nathif was right,” Dash said. “This place is immense. It could hold a hundred times the Serpenti who live here now.”

  They walked from one bubble room to the next. Aluna lost track of which direction they’d come from, but Tal seemed confident. Some bubble rooms were small, others vast. The rooms grew dustier and less used the farther they went, until it felt as if they were exploring an underwater citywreck. Except for the water part, they were.

  Finally they entered a room covered in row after row of curved viewscreens. A single smooth desk ringed the wall, its ancient keyboards, knobs, and buttons layered in dust.

  “It looks a lot like the place we found in the old SkyTek dome,” Aluna said. She jumped off Tal’s back and hopped over to the closest wall. She reached out and touched the label under one of the viewscreens. A snake symbol, followed by a series of letters. “What does it say?”

  Dash dropped to the ground and joined her. “I believe it is a name. GLITTERSCALE. Perhaps one of the other Serpenti cities.” He moved over to another group. “Here is TALON’S PEAK — and SKYFEATHER’S LANDING!”

  Aluna used her arms to ease her way along the smooth desk and scanned the symbols below each screen. Snakes, horses, birds . . . a seahorse!

  “What does this one say?” She pointed at the label, her pulse pounding. “Is it a Kampii city?”