The wind from the blade swinging brushes against my skin, but the man falls forward without ever making contact. I search for what incapacitated him and follow the barrel of a smoking stunner up to Rayce’s smirking mouth. He tips his head in my direction, his hair falling over his eyes, and swivels around to parry an oncoming Sun soldier with his sword.
All around me, the sounds of fighting fill the night—men grunting, shouts of pain as a blow lands, the sharp zip of stunner bolts—but I do my best to block it out, letting the soldiers and guards alike fade into the background. My gaze falls back on the caravan just as a Sun soldier slips out of the covered portion of the cart, shielding a scroll with his arm.
Moonlight illuminates the Delmarion emperor’s blue seal holding the envelope closed. That’s the letter we’re here for.
The soldier takes off east, toward Varsha, stumbling in a spray of sand to avoid the fighting surrounding him. He lurches forward, scrambling in my direction, eyes set on the horizon behind me. If he disappears into the night, all hope is lost. I won’t let the emperor win or endanger the rebellion…and I can’t let the people lying motionless in the sand be felled in vain. I’d rather die.
The sand slips underneath my feet as I sprint in the same direction as the soldier, keeping pace with him. He rushes for a large sand dune farther away from the fighting, his armor glinting in the moonlight like a beacon. The desert air picks up around me, Zaina herself urging me onward. This man clutches my entire life in his arms.
I pump my legs harder, swerving around a rebel and soldier’s swords clashing mid-battle. The screech of blades colliding fills my ears, but I keep my focus on the retreating soldier carrying a package meant for the Varshan king.
The rustle of sand shifting behind me signals that another person has fallen.
Please don’t let it be Rayce.
Fear for my fellow rebels urges me on faster. The soldier glances over his shoulder, and his eyes widen as he realizes I’m trailing him. This is the one arena where the Delmarions won’t be able to match me. The corners of my mouth tilt up as he climbs the large dune in front of him with a jumping start. It would be almost funny if he wasn’t someone that could potentially ruin my life.
As he lands a few feet up the mound, he sinks up to his calves and sand spills free from the pile. He tries to move forward, wrenching his boot up from underneath only to slip farther into the mound. Realizing his mistake, he spins around and jumps out. But this momentary lapse in his judgment gives me all the time I need.
The second his feet hit the ground, I lunge, angling my body to get the most distance I can, and collide with him. For a second, we’re both standing upright and I can see the fear in his brown eyes as he begins to tip over. Then we’re tumbling downward, a tangled ball of arms and legs scrambling for the same thing.
The emperor’s scroll looses from his armor and soars through the air, sticking into the dune ahead of us. He lands with a thud and I crash on top of him, letting him break my fall. I push off his stomach, jumping for the scroll. His arms wrap around my waist and he yanks me down on top of him again, his muscles solid like iron around my back. The small plates of his metal armor dig into my skin, leaving the scaly pattern pressed onto my flesh.
“Let me go!” I gasp, jutting my elbow into his face.
I reach down for the stunner still attached to my belt when he flips to the right, throwing all of his weight on top of me as he slams me into the ground. Air rushes out of crushed lungs and white spots flit around my vision, blocking out the stars above. He sits up, pinning my hand to my side, and removes a dagger attached to his belt. He holds it up in the air, filling my entire world with the edge of that blade. I dig my free hand into the sand, balling it into a fist.
And then the knife comes down, slicing through the air with ferocious hunger, aimed for my heart. I wrench up my free hand, throwing the grains of sand I’d grabbed into his face, and twist to get out of the way of the knife.
Sharp pain blossoms from my left shoulder where the blade plunges through my flesh easier than if it were water, but at least he misses my heart. Not that it’s much consolation as tears fill my eyes. He growls in frustration, clawing with one hand at his eyes, and blood spills hot onto my robe as he pulls the blade free. A fresh wave of agony overtakes me and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. He won’t hear me scream. No enemy of mine will ever get the pleasure of knowing he hurt me again, not if I can help it.
I clench my eyes closed as a wave of dizziness crashes over me and fight to stay aware. Focus on the pain but don’t give into it. Not when the soldier’s scrubbing at his eyes desperately.
Mustering up whatever strength I have left, I kick my feet forward, making contact with the back of his head, and use the momentum to sit up. The knife fumbles from his hand a few inches away from us. I dive for it, clenching my teeth as I reach my left hand forward, my shoulder stretching the gash open. My vision grays, but I snap back to reality as the man’s crushing weight smothers me again, sending needlelike pain rolling through my body.
My fingertips brush the cold blade as he reaches to pry my arm back, and with no other choice, I wrap them around the sharp edge, feeling it bite into my flesh for a second time. The soldier squeezes my arm like he’s determined to break the bone underneath, trying to force me to drop it. I tuck into the sand, spinning the blade around in my hand. The silver metal now permanently stained red with my blood.
Gritting my teeth against the fresh pain that surges through me, I flip over, sand crunching against my open wound, and stab upward with everything I have, right into his neck. Warm blood splatters from the hilt into my face as I pull it out and stab again. I watch in horror as realization dawns in the man’s eyes, turning from determination to fear to nothingness.
His body goes limp, his forehead cracking my chin as he slumps over lifeless on top of me. I breathe through my nose as my heart rattles against my chest. Everything in me hums with pain, with adrenaline coursing through my veins, but a fresher emotion wars to take the place of everything else.
I just…I just killed a man.
The weight of my action presses on me as heavily as his corpse. Tears stream down my cheeks as I slide out from under him, reliving the second his eyes widened just slightly as he realized he was dying. I know my sword has sliced through others before this, but I’ve never actually watched the moment their soul returned to Yun or whoever it is that lays them to rest. My wound throbs as I stumble to my feet.
Deep breaths, Rose. Take a deep breath.
Using the back of my good hand, I swipe the tears running down my cheeks and notice that my shaking palms are covered in blood. My stomach twists at the sight and I have to bend over to keep my food down, sucking in air through my nose.
I can’t crumple under this burden. The entire rebellion is counting on me to complete my mission, and finishing what we came here to do is the only way to stall this war long enough to give the rebellion a fighting chance.
My gaze falls on the sealed parchment sticking out of the sand, and I force my body to move to it. Every step causes my shoulder to pulse with pain, but I keep at it, stopping just in front of the yellowing parchment that reveals who I am. The sand around it sparkles like blue glitter in the moonlight, beckoning me closer. I reach out my blood-soaked hand and grasp the clean surface, staining the paper that crinkles in my fingers.
The emperor’s seal, a swirling dragon pressed into the blue wax, mocks me as I stare down at it. Using my teeth, I rip open the parchment, my stomach rolling as I see the emperor’s familiar handwriting in neat lines scrawling across the page. I find my name, see him not only confirming my whereabouts but also offering a temporary truce between the nations if Varsha will assist him in locating and squashing the rebellion… All of our fears inked onto a single scroll signing our deaths should Varsha agree.
And in the same neat script at the bottom of the page rests the signature of the man who murdered Oren, who welcomed the Gardener and his
treacherous show with open arms, and who nearly stole Rayce away from me with a well-placed dagger.
I snarl down at Galon Sun’s name as my shoulder screams in protest, and ball up the page in my hand.
Retrieving another invention the rebellion created from my pocket, I click the trigger on the flicker and watch as fire shoots from the tip, burning away this desperate attempt the emperor made at securing allies. Flame eats through the balled paper, turning it to ash in my palm. The desert breeze steals the ashes, scattering them into a stretching chasm of sand where they won’t be able to hurt anyone.
Relief floods my veins as my portion of this mission concludes, and I smile, but it’s short lived. Pain pulses down my arm, blurring the edges of my vision. The wound stains my shirt dark with blood and I grit my teeth. If it isn’t treated soon, I have no idea how I’m going to stay conscious enough to lead the rebels back through the desert, and Varshans know that staying exposed to the sun and sand too long will turn Zaina into a death trap.
Chapter Three
My feet drag through the sand and I steel myself against the pain of moving, keeping my good hand pressed tightly on the knife wound in my shoulder. To my right, the sounds of fighting have slowed down, but my mind can’t expend the effort of turning my head to see how the tides of battle have ebbed. Instead, my gaze stays focused on a dim blue glow about forty yards off.
By the time a Varshan child turns five, they’re taught the tricks the Zaina Desert will play on a sunbaked mind, but they are also given the knowledge to survive: and one of the oldest secrets passed down is the desert rose. The flower-shaped crystal used to hold a beauty for me like no other, until the Gardener claimed me as his and forever ruined its enchantment.
But my time in the Garden hasn’t caused me to forget the rumors surrounding its healing properties, so I head for the dim blue light like a sunflower leaning toward the sun. The closer I move, the colder the air grows, sending shivers all down my body and causing the hairs on my arms to stand at end. My shaking knees give out a few paces away from the small patch of desert rose, and I crawl the last few inches to reach the glowing blue flowers of my homeland.
The long thin crystals jut up, spreading out into petal-like clusters at the top that imitate a rose. As I brush my finger against the edge of the mineral, a blast of cold shoots up, spreading through my body. Only the place on my arm where Zarenite is tattooed into my skin remains warm. The hard surface resembles the tip of a knife, and my blood smears onto the crystal, clouding it. Or maybe it’s the soldier’s blood. At this moment, they’re one and the same.
Summoning what’s left of my strength, I try to break off the piece between my fingers. My arm underneath me gives out and I fall face forward into the sand. My shoulder shrieks in protest as sand scrapes against my broken flesh, and my toes curl as blistering pain pours through my body.
Is this it? Will I survive an assassination attempt in Varsha, the harsh conditions of the Garden, and facing the Delmarion emperor twice, only to die here after finally finding a purpose? Will my quest to avenge my father and Oren end, floating away like ashes on the wind?
I clench my jaw, sand crunching between my teeth, and tears stream down my cheeks.
If I really am to wither here, I guess it’s a fitting resting place. My people believe that each grain of sand holds a memory, a piece of someone’s life encapsulated in something tiny, insignificant. But together, these memories form a desert that stretches millions of times longer than the eye can see. My life will become one of those grains, adding to the barrier between Varsha and Delmar.
“Rose! Rose!” Rayce’s voice brings a spark of comfort as my vision grows darker. A spray of sand as he crashes next to me, his hands cradling my head and then his dark eyes, peering down at me. “You’re hurt. What happened?”
“Soldier had…a knife,” I say through clenched teeth. “Should’ve reacted quicker. I…I did it, though. I destroyed…the message.”
“You did fine, just fine,” he says, laying my head on his lap. There’s a tugging on the fabric of my sleeve followed by a rip that sounds dull to my ears. “Don’t try to move. I’ll fix this.”
“The flower,” I say, my voice high in my own ears.
Keeping my gaze pinned on his furrowed brow helps keep the world upright.
“What?” He pauses in his examination and looks up toward the patch of desert rose. “Yes, I see it, but I’m not concerned with that right now.” He turns behind him. “Arlo, we need the medic pack over here, now!”
“No…” I grab his hand and try to squeeze, but my own shakes too much. “Rayce…the flower.”
He raises an eyebrow at my insistence and studies my face.
“What about the flower?”
“Break…piece off.” My voice sounds like someone else’s. Thoughts float in my head, forming and splintering in the same second. My body is shutting down and I want to let it. Anything to end this pain. “It will help…”
The wrinkles in his forehead deepen as he stretches out to grasp the desert rose in his palm. His hands do what mine didn’t have the strength for and he easily breaks off a chunk.
I lick my dry lips, trying to muster up the energy to speak again.
“Crush…it,” I whisper, trying to move my arm to make the motion. Pain fills my head and I instantly regret it.
“I don’t have anywhere to do that,” he says. “I’ll figure something out.”
His eyes dart around, searching for anything that would help him accomplish the task. Though my world slows down to a crawl, I can still manage enough thought to see how much he’s trusting me. It’s clear now by the blood still bubbling from my wound that I’m bleeding to death in front of him, and he’s willing to try what I’m asking him, going against all of his training.
As Rayce searches, I hear another familiar voice calling out. A second later, Marin comes into my limited view, her warm hand touching my cheek gently. Beside her, Arlo digs around in a small pack in the sand.
“Rose, hang in there,” Marin says.
“Marin,” Rayce says, holding out the crystal. “There’s a stone over there. Beat this crystal on it until it’s a powder, quickly.”
She takes the desert rose from Rayce and nods, hurrying over in the direction he points toward.
“I’ve got some dressing right here,” Arlo says, handing the white roll of bandage to Rayce. “And some needle and thread, too.”
His implication chills me colder than the mineral in front of me, but I’m too tired to fight them. The world grows dark. I have to hurry or they’ll never know what I know…the biggest secret a Varshan has in the desert. One that I would be ostracized for if my people ever found out that I shared it with a Delmarion.
“Water,” I say.
Arlo holds out a canteen to Rayce who takes it and rips it open, lifting my head to tilt it back.
“No, powder,” I say, turning my head away from the canteen. “Mix…powder in little bit of water.”
Marin runs back, holding out a cupped hand. Rayce doesn’t hesitate, pouring water into her palm and instructing her to mix it into a paste.
“I don’t understand,” Arlo says. “We’re wasting time. We need to treat her injuries or she’ll die.”
“I don’t understand, either,” Rayce says, looking down at me with panic in his eyes. “But I trust her.”
His words brush over me like a balm to the dizziness rocking around in my head and I focus only on him, only at the concern radiating from his gaze.
“Apply on shoulder…” The words stick to my dry throat.
Rayce and Arlo exchange a doubtful glance.
“You’re sure this will help?” Rayce asks.
“Yes.”
It’s almost the truth. I’ve seen this same concoction used once before when I was eight and crossed the desert with my old caretaker. One of the men got badly wounded after a skirmish with a wandering tribe on our trek to Delmar, and an old woman made something similar. I don’t rem
ember the ratio of water to powder or even how much they gave him, but I do remember his screaming.
Rayce takes a deep breath, dabbing his finger in the concoction they made.
He spreads the paste over my wound, and even though his hands are feather soft, the rubbing sensation on the deep gash sends shockwaves of pain through my body. But ice quickly replaces the pain. It shoots down my veins like being stabbed with the dagger all over again. I take in a deep gasp of air, but my lungs have frozen over and all I can do is scream.
Through the haze, I make out Rayce, Marin, and Arlo scrambling to do something to ease my suffering, but it hurts too much to focus on anything besides the ice biting through my flesh. My skin begins to stretch slowly like someone is tugging at the edges of the open cut and I cry out, tears pouring out of my eyes.
Suddenly, everyone above me stops moving, all staring at my shoulder. The freezing pain lessens slightly, but I can still feel stretching. I turn my gaze away from my audience to the main attraction, my wound, and see that my tanned skin has a bluish tint to it. But even stranger than the color is the fresh layer of skin closing up the gash that bubbled blood just a few seconds ago. The icy waves crash through my body like an aftershock, and I clench my teeth together to keep them from chattering.
“D-did you all see what I just did?” Arlo asks.
His voice brings my gaze back to the crowd that has gathered around me and I meet Rayce’s gaze, see the small smile touching his lips, watch as relief loosens the tension around his eyes.
“Oh, I saw it…but I’m not sure I believe it.” Marin pushes a curl behind her ear, her eyes widening as she studies my wound.
“What?” I ask, my voice weak. “You don’t bat an eye when your stunners work or at the fact that the walls in your base glow, but a little quick healing nearly has you speechless?”
War of the Wilted Page 2
