by Trudie Skies
SAND DANCER | BOOK TWO
T R U D I E S K I E S
FIRE WALKER
Copyright © 2021 by Trudie Skies.
All rights reserved.
Published by Uproar Books, LLC.
Reproduction of this book in whole or in part, electronically or mechanically, is prohibited without written consent, except brief quotations as part of news articles or reviews. For information address: Uproar Books, 1419 Plymouth Drive, Nashville, TN 37027.
All persons, places, and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
Edited by Rick Lewis.
Cover illustration by Eduoard Noisette.
Map illustration by Soraya Corcoran.
Print ISBN 978-1-949671-12-4
eBook ISBN 978-1-949671-23-0
This book is dedicated to those who have sacrificed
much during the 2020 coronavirus pandemic;
to the lives lost, to the lives who have suffered,
to the health care workers who have sacrificed
their time and risked their lives,
to the essential workers who have kept society together
whilst our leaders could not,
to the many who gave up their freedoms
to help protect those dearest.
You've all walked through the fire.
Part One
Broken Oaths
1
BENEATH THE STONE
The High Priestess’s rules for entering the Temple of Rahn were designed to punish and control.
No Fire Walker shall burn without permission, no clothing shall be worn to hide their marks, no weapons are to be brought inside the temple, no meat or fruit or wine shall be consumed, and no stone shall be disturbed upon penalty of death.
Mina had broken each rule in her first week.
The tunnels underneath the temple were a maze. Mina had spent the past twelve weeks digging out blocked and collapsed passages and exploring where safe to do so. Many paths held signs of those who had last passed through: warnings etched into the stone walls, abandoned water canteens, bloody handprints, piles of ash. All were left by Fire Walkers who had attempted to escape imprisonment inside the temple. Some must have made it. Others weren’t so lucky. It was those Mina sought.
The High Priestess of Rahn had forbidden Mina from digging up old bones—literal bones—and putting their spirits to rest. No amount of arguing had convinced her. Instead, Mina had gone over her head and petitioned the King of Sandair himself. Having saved his life and earned his reward this Rahn’s Dawn, she’d expected King Khaled to be more forthcoming. But no. Their great king had waved his hand and declared the issue a matter for the temple to handle.
The High Priestess had made her stance perfectly clear.
The dead would remain buried. Their souls trapped in stone forever.
Such a declaration had only hardened Mina’s resolve, and when the Priestess left the temple on a pilgrimage south, Mina knew this could be her only chance. The Priestess knew this, too, and left behind her two lackeys to keep guard. Today, Mina had managed to send one of them, Saeed, off on a wild chase into the city. But the other, a woman named Samira, wasn’t so easily fooled. She was the reason Mina now ran in circles in the stifling dark.
Hunting Shadows was easier when the hunter wasn’t also being hunted, but Mina’s pursuer hadn’t counted on her many years of experience running through Dusland alleyways.
Dust clouds rose from where Mina’s hurried steps slapped the ground, disturbing layers of sand that had slumbered there for generations. She eased her breathing into a steady rhythm, tasting the salt and smoke that always lingered in the air. One hand carried a lit torch—its light necessary for navigation despite its oppressive heat—and the other gripped the hilt of her sword, Hawk. Only a year ago, she’d run through Khalbad’s streets with a fishing rod tucked in her belt and dreamed of steel. Now she carried real steel strapped to her hip, but the scabbard slapped her thigh with each step. Swords weren’t made for running. Neither was fire.
From behind her came the rasping breath of her pursuer. A woman clearly not meant to run, or hunt, or fight, but stubborn enough to try. That Samira hadn’t given up or collapsed yet was impressive enough, and Mina hadn’t made her path easy by leading her through twisting tunnels with uneven ground decorated in cobwebs. It would have been fun, if not for their priestess’s parting threat: “Touch those bones and you’ll be committing treason, Mina Hawker, and your bones will join them.”
Mina had some experience committing treason, too.
She turned the corner to begin her loop again. A wall of fire burst from the ground, blocking the entire tunnel with blinding light. She dropped her torch and cursed, skidding to a halt.
“Enough!”
Samira staggered up from behind, her chest heaving. Her shiny bald head gleamed with sweat, and even in the flame-lit tunnel, her bronze Solander skin looked pale. “Stop,” she wheezed.
Mina scooped her torch and re-lit it against Samira’s flames. “Stop what? Running? Is exercise not allowed now?”
Samira sagged against the wall of the tunnel. “Don’t—don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! I know your Rhaesbond is digging—”
“He has a name.”
“—digging tunnels, that traitorous filth. You think you’re so smart, tricking Saeed into running halfway across Solus, but you’re not! He’s fetching the guard.”
“You summoned the guard? When did exercising become a criminal offense?”
“Don’t play games with me. Do you realize how dangerous it is out there for our kind? Do you care at all? Fire Walkers are getting attacked in the streets, thanks to you and your worthless Rhaesbond. All it’ll take is one spark and their hatred for our kind will ignite.”
“You never leave the temple. How would you know what’s going on outside?”
Samira and Saeed were fools who believed Fire Walkers belonged in stone cages. But the King had granted them freedom, and most Fire Walkers had returned to their families to resume the life they once had—or to begin a life they were denied. Only a small handful—including Saeed, Samira, and High Priestess Leila—had chosen to remain in the Temple of Rahn. The stubborn, scared, and pitiful, who’d spent their entire lives inside the temple and now refused to stand in Rahn’s warmth.
At least the empty temple remained quiet. Peaceful. The perfect place for Mina to train in both sword and fire. Or it would have been, if Saeed and Samira weren’t always stalking her.
Twelve gods-damn weeks had passed. Solus still stood. Sandair hadn’t burned. Yes, there’d been rumors of Fire Walkers being harassed in the streets, and Mina planned to investigate those once done here. But the way Samira and Saeed spoke, it was as though they expected Rahn himself to crash down upon the city at any moment.
“You Housemen think you know everything. You have no rank in Rahn’s domain.” Samira snapped her fingers and a single flame danced in her palm. “I could burn you to ash.”
Housemen?
It annoyed Mina whenever anyone named her a Houseman, but that’s who she was now, no matter how deeply she’d feared and despised them as a child. Not that Samira understood the path Mina had taken from starving on a Dusland street to joining a House and gaining all the responsibilities that came with it. Mina let out an exasperated sigh. The heat of the wall of fire at her back burned too close, and Samira blocked the only other way out.
As was traditional for the temple’s Fire Walkers, Samira wore no clothes, only a band across her chest and a loincloth. Red swirls resembling flame were inked across her chest, shoulders, and upper arms. She carried no weapon except for the power within her
own blood—power that could be cut short with a quick slice of Mina’s blade. A Fire Walker couldn’t burn without their blood, but she’d rather not spill any. She removed her hand from Hawk’s hilt.
“Burn me, then. But first, tell me why. Why can’t the bones hidden in these tunnels receive a proper lurrite?”
Samira blinked. “They’re traitors.”
“Traitors for doing what? Trying to escape imprisonment?”
“Gods, nothing so simple. If they were fleeing, we’d merely cut them down and burn them.”
“Then why?”
“For refusing to use their fire when called upon by the Bright Solara.”
“What? The King locked people away for possessing fire. Are you saying he ordered those same people killed for refusing to use it? That’s madness!”
Fresh sweat beads ran down Samira’s forehead. Her wall of fire was taking its toll. “I was there in the last war. I saw how important blood fire was to the war effort—”
“You burned the enemy and killed your own people who wouldn’t?”
“I didn’t kill anyone! Fire Walkers tended to the camps and the wounded. And to the dead. We were the ones who burned the bodies. The battlefields needed to be purged, or they’d become stalking grounds for wraiths. The Shadows of our fallen men would have overrun both armies had we not cleared them.”
“Then you understand what I’m trying to do.”
“No. This isn’t the same thing. Gods, do you listen? Rahn gave us a sacred duty. We must sever the bonds of the dead to the living world, especially in times of war, and it is not permitted to refuse.”
Those were Lunei words. The tribe of her ancestors… and of High Priestess Leila. Perhaps she had passed on their tribe’s teachings to her acolytes. “And what of the dead here? You don’t fear they’ll become wraiths?”
“The dead of this temple are aware of their sins. That is why they don’t attack.”
“You know that for a fact? Because I can see them. I hear what they’re saying.” Mina put a hand to her ear. “They don’t sound too pleased.”
A flicker of doubt danced across Samira’s face, but then she hardened her eyes and her voice. “You don’t scare me, girl. I’ve lived inside this temple since before you were born. And I tell you now, if you defy Leila’s order, you’ll be hanged for treason.”
Mina snorted. “Treason? Do you really think the King cares enough about some old bones that he’d hang the champion of the Solaran Tournament? Or the daughter of his sorran? The King will have you hanged for wasting his time.”
“The King doesn’t care enough to grant you permission though, does he?” Samira tapped her nose. “Are you foolish enough to lie to your king?”
Mina rolled her eyes. She’d lied to the King plenty of times and kept her head intact. Her father Talin had done all the bowing and scraping necessary to win back royal favor, though she didn’t want to push their luck further. Lune’s protection only extended so far.
If Samira spoke true, guards could be marching toward the temple already. She didn’t think they’d arrest her, least of all for treason, but they’d interfere with her plans. And time was running out. Her Aunt Iman had sent word that Prince Rais’s entourage was seen approaching Solus, returning from their pilgrimage to the Duslands in celebration of his helbond. High Priestess Leila travelled with them; she could be back in the city as soon as tomorrow. This was Mina’s best—perhaps only—chance to complete the one task she’d been forbidden from undertaking. She hadn’t expected it to take this long, but the tunnels were vast and the Shadows haunting the temple had an annoying habit of passing in and out of the walls in a manner Mina couldn’t follow.
Their bones needed to be burned. Their Shadows could not pass to the next world until they were. “I’m Lunei. You say Rahn gave us fire to use? Then Lune gave me her sight to see the dead. And if you don’t let me pass, I’ll order them to attack.”
Samira blanched. “You can’t do that. Leila said—”
“You want to test me?” She pointed her lit torch over Samira’s shoulder. “There’s a Shadow standing right… there.”
Dust crumbled from the wall, landing on Samira’s shoulder. She shrieked and ran, and the wall of fire immediately snapped out.
Mina laughed and wafted the remaining smoke away. Shadows couldn’t be controlled. Gods, she could barely commune with them, but Samira didn’t need to know that.
A thick, dark column of smoke lingered, even when Mina’s fingers passed through. It rippled, sending a cold shudder up her arm.
She’d been right after all. A Shadow was there.
She stepped back as the Shadow took the shape of a faceless man, though it floated unnaturally, its entire body made from midnight. She held up her torch, but the light made no effect. They were a void. A spirit lingering between death and the afterlife.
As a Lunei, her blood attracted the Shadows. Her silver eyes could see them when no one else could. And she’d learned from Leila’s own mouth that the duty of the Lunei, their shared tribe, was to help the Shadows find their way back to Rahn. Leila had let these souls down, but Mina wouldn’t.
“Jonan’s found you, hasn’t he?”
The Shadow swept through the tunnel, its legs barely moving as it slid across the sand. Tendrils of black mist trailed behind it, leaving a cool, smoky residue that pricked her nerves. There was something familiar about this Shadow. The blood bond of her House stirred with Jonan’s essence, with Rahnlight and heat.
Jahan.
This Shadow was Jonan’s father, Jahan.
She followed him through the tunnels, and the tock-tock of a pickaxe rang louder and louder until she found Jonan at his work. He offered a grunt in welcome and nodded at a pile of yellow-white stones that glimmered in the torch light.
Not stones. Pale bones.
She crouched to get a better view. Bones of all types and sizes. She couldn’t name them all. But she could name what this was.
“A mass grave.”
“Yes.” Jonan wiped sweat from his brow, smearing dirt and dust. His tunic was soaked through. Like her, he wore a purple sash across his shoulder, though that too was damp and marred with beige dust. He’d kept his hair at a stubble but allowed his beard to grow. It hadn’t made much progress. Neither had her own hair since it had been completely shaved off by Samira all those weeks ago. “Are these all of them? Can you see?”
She set her torch down and ran her palm over the nearest bone. Another Shadow rippled into existence before her. She heard it then: whispers clinging to the wind, words no other mortal would ever hear.
Where is the light?
Those whispers had haunted her stay in the temple, but she’d caught only fragments, tales from another life. Many lives. Ten at least. Maybe more.
Jahan’s Shadow watched his son, who leaned against the stone wall, unaware that his own father graced their presence. She opened her mouth to tell Jonan that his father’s bones were among those he’d uncovered, but a sudden shiver raced up her spine. The Shadow didn’t want to be revealed. For Jonan’s sake, or its own?
Other Shadows rose from the bones in puffs of dark cloud. Watching. Waiting.
Jahan’s Shadow approached her and reached out as if to touch her shoulder, though his hand passed through with only a chill. She shuddered as his soft words echoed in her mind: Listen to their tale. No one has heard them speak.
One of the Shadow’s held out its hand. An invitation. She’d touched enough of the Shadows to know not all were friendly, and even those who wished her no harm might plague her with unpleasant thoughts, dreams, and memories. But Mina did not fear dark dreams and memories. She’d lived through her worst nightmares and survived to tell their tales.
Whatever this Shadow wished to throw at her, she was ready.
Mina grasped its cold hand.
Sky fire burned through her veins, and her legs buckled. Her eyelids fluttered into darkness.
&nbs
p; 2
CHILDREN OF SHADOW
I kneeled in black ash. I could still taste men floating in the smoke. My brothers and sisters kneeled beside me. One had tried to run, and his body left a smear of white and red upon the blackened ground.
Guards pointed their swords at us, but we weren’t a threat. The leech at my neck made certain of that. I couldn’t burn even if I wished to.
My thoughts turned to home.
I’d turned thirteen when Rahn blessed me. I’d burned in anger over something so inconsequential, I don’t even remember it. I burned down our home. My da. My ma. Everything. When the men came for me, I was still alight. Half the townsfolk looked at me like the monster I’d become, but the guardsmen… they saw a weapon.
That’s all they ever saw.
They should have cut me down there and then. I should have paid the price. But instead, they locked me inside Rahn’s temple and taught me to use his gift on command. I did so. I obeyed. We all did. The strongest among us were rewarded in lamb or silks. Nothing extravagant, small gifts that we could keep inside the temple. I took no reward. I served Rahn as penance.
I watched my brothers and sisters toe the line between monster and weapon.
They died in battle. By sword, by arrow, or by their own fire bleeding them dry.
I pointed my fire where they told me.
Until I couldn’t anymore. Rahn forgive me, I couldn’t.
My flame had burned flesh from bone and bone to ash.
I closed my eyes as the sword made its way down the line. No one ran. They didn’t whimper. They didn’t cry. My brothers. My sisters.
Cool steel rested atop my bare shoulder, an inch from the leech. “Why won’t you obey?” the guard asked. “Rahn has given you this gift.”
I kept my eyes shut tight. “Rahn can take it back.”
