Page 4 of Crown of the Dunes (The Ballan Desert #2)

Chapter two

Erix

A lza nudged her nose against my hand, trying to drag me from my frustrated thoughts. Or perhaps she was simply annoyed that I had ceased my stroking of her silky black mane in favor of staring out over the empty chasm before my feet.

For weeks, this had been my midday ritual. Every afternoon, after training with the riders of the combined clans, I rode around the entire perimeter of the encampment, as if I would suddenly find a break in the deep gorge encircling the place where all nine clans of the desert camped.

No matter how many times I made the trip, there was no change in the architecture of the land. Instead, I was forced to languish in a prison of my own making.

I stepped up to the edge of the chasm I had carved into the earth to protect the clans from Kelvadan’s attack.

My toes brushed the rocky precipice that led down to a well of darkness.

It was so deep that shadow shrouded the bottom from view, and I couldn’t be sure how far down it went.

I bent to pick up a small rock, rubbing my gloved fingers over the rough surface for a few moments before tossing it into the pit before me.

My ears strained, and I counted to three before I heard a faint clatter at the bottom .

I breathed out heavily through my nose in frustration, the sigh heating the inside of my mask against my skin.

This chasm I had made using a swell of power in the heat of battle had saved all the riders of the nine clans from the warriors of Kelvadan, but now it kept us from responding to their attack with a siege of our own.

And it kept me from ripping down the walls of the Great City to get Keera back.

I raised a hand before me and closed my eyes, turning my focus inwards to the web of threads that connected me to every rock and grain of sand in the Ballan Desert.

As I did, the whispers in my mind—which became louder by the day—grew into an incessant chatter.

I mentally grasped the fibers of my powers and clasped my hand into a fist as I tugged.

Deep in the chasm before me came a slight rumbling.

I squeezed my fist so hard that the leather of my gloves threatened to split.

The tendrils of magic slipped through my fingers, and the rumbling stopped.

I opened my eyes to stare into the darkness at my feet, no less endless than it had been before.

I grit my teeth around a scream of frustration, and it came out as a frustrated growl.

The leash on my power frayed more with each passing day—I no longer had Lord Alasdar’s burns or Keera’s touch to rein myself in—but I still could not muster enough power to shape the desert to my will.

Not for the first time, I wondered at the desert’s motivations—the meaning behind the wordless chattering in my mind.

Alza nudged her head against my side more insistently, and I turned sharply away from the pit before me. Lord Alasdar may have been gone, no longer pulling my strings, but I seemed to be no less a pawn in the desert’s games than I had been before.

I jumped up onto Alza’s back, and the unintelligible voices in my head chittered derisively, as if mocking me for my inability to undo what I had done.

The desert seemed to take pleasure in giving me immeasurable power when it suited her, only to leave me with little more than the threat of impending madness immediately after .

Alza broke into an easy trot, and I clenched my fists on my thighs to avoid yanking on her mane in frustration. Far too soon, we arrived back at her enclosure, and a familiar golden stallion ambled over to the edge.

Daiti didn’t look my way, as if he didn’t want me to get the impression he had approached to greet me, despite the fact that he did this every time I returned from a ride.

A melancholy ache settled beneath my breastbone at the sight of the stallion.

As I let Alza back into the pasture, I held my hand out to Keera’s mount, and he snuffled at my gloved fingers.

In the days when he was named Bloodmoon, I never would have dared come so close for fear of losing a few digits.

My ribs still ached at the memory of a few well-placed kicks from him in years past, back when he belonged to Lord Alasdar.

Now though, I was the only one he let approach, and he and Alza were kept in a separate paddock, for he wouldn’t suffer the company of other horses. A few of Clan Katal’s mounts had bite marks on their haunches as evidence.

As I let Alza loose to munch on some arrow grass, Daiti drew closer and buried his head in my tabards as if searching for a snack. Coming up empty, he grunted but didn’t pull away, and I laid a hand on his gleaming neck, patting gently.

“I know,” I murmured. “I miss her too.”

For a moment, it was almost as if I could smell Keera’s hair—sunshine and warm skin that calmed the pulsing power within me.

I considered grooming Daiti, even though his coat was already spotless. I itched to care for Keera, but in her absence, tending to her mount was the next best thing. A voice drew me from my reverie before I could fetch a brush.

“My Lord Viper, you’re needed in the meeting tent.”

I sighed and walked to the edge of the enclosure. “I told you not to call me that, Izumi.”

My second-in-command put her hands on her hips. “You’re the Lord of Clan Katal now. It would be disrespectful to call you anything else.”

“I still don’t like the title,” I grunted as I levered myself over the fence and out of the enclosure.

Even the name Viper was starting to chafe these days, but I didn’t admit that to my warlord.

If I were to shed the mantle, I would have to offer an alternative, and I had none I was willing to share with my riders.

Only one person lived who called me Erix, and with every day without her, the identity slipped further from me.

So, I wore the title of Viper, just like I had continued to don my mask and gloves every morning. The clans had united behind the Viper, and he could not abandon them. Besides, their combined power would give me the strength needed to breach the walls of Kelvadan.

“What do they want now?” I asked, leading the way from the perimeter of the camp to the tallest tent in the center, the snake-emblazoned banner of Clan Katal snapping in the wind at its peak.

“The same thing they want every day. A way off this plateau. Fresh sources of food and water. To plan the siege on Kelvadan.”

I bared my teeth behind my mask. “I don’t know why they require my presence to talk in circles.”

Izumi shot me a hard look, her eyes as sharp as ever. “You are the leader of the combined clans now. They need your guidance.”

I bit back a growl, the retort that I had only ever meant to be a weapon, not a leader, heavy on my tongue. It was another one of the daily routines that only ever took us in circles.

Despite my discontented silence, Izumi must have sensed what I wanted to say. She grabbed my forearm, stopping me in my tracks and turning me to look at her. I yanked from her grasp and stared down at her. She narrowed her upturned eyes at me, and they glittered against her tawny complexion.

“You can’t show any weakness now,” she said, her voice firm but low enough not to be overheard in the hubbub of a busy encampment.

“Food is running critically low, and already the first of the wells are beginning to dry up. Strength is the only thing the other lords respect. If you can’t show them that, you won’t be able to prevent infighting. ”

The words fell heavy in my stomach like rocks, weights of responsibility and dread in equal measure. I turned my head, staring up at the sigil of Clan Katal, the snake that was my namesake seeming to slither with the rippling of the banner .

“If you can’t keep the clans united, our chances of defeating Kelvadan are slim—as are our chances of giving the desert what she wants and winning her favor,” Izumi pushed on.

My gaze snapped back down to her, and the look she gave me was a challenge.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle with the riders of Kelvadan, Izumi had vouched for me as Lord Alasdar’s successor, pointing to my victory in saving the encampment from the surprise attack.

It had shocked me, given that Izumi had often treated me as a competitor for Lord Alasdar’s favor.

But the Lord Dhara of Clan Otush had quickly backed my claim, telling the others how I had come to their aid against the lava wyrm.

It had been enough to turn the protests of Lord Cahir and Lord Nathaira into discontented grumblings.

It was then I saw Izumi’s actions for what they were: an opportunity. With my claim to the title of Champion—incomplete as it was, given that I hadn’t been crowned—and that several clans were much less reluctant to follow me than they had been Lord Alasdar, this was our chance to raze Kelvadan.

I interpreted the meaning in Izumi’s words now clearly: If I didn’t lead the clans in their march on Kelvadan, I would be replaced by somebody who would.

Without another word, I turned and strode into the tent where the eight other lords waited for me. I blinked, my eyes taking a second to adjust to the dim light while Izumi pushed through the flap behind me.

The lords sat on cushions around a low table in the center of the room, the floor still covered by the lush, ostentatious mess of overlapping rugs.

I had done nothing to change the tent that had belonged to Clan Katal’s former leader, besides designating it as the place where official business was to be discussed.