Page 81 of Crown of the Dunes (The Ballan Desert #2)
Chapter thirty-four
Erix
T he short minutes we spent putting distance between us and the city behind us were the longest of my life. While usually, time slipped away, becoming meaningless as I rode with complete abandon, now I counted every breath—every inhale and exhale that rattled my father’s body before me.
He was conscious, but he leaned heavily against me, and only my hold kept him from tumbling off the dappled mare’s back.
I had never seen him have anything but a perfect seat on a mount.
Finally, our horses slowed, the veritable sandstorm kicked up by our wild retreat turning into small clouds of dust around their hooves. Keera twisted on her stallion’s back to look behind us and sighed in relief.
“The desert seems to have aided our retreat.”
I followed her gaze, finding that the city had disappeared behind us. In the constantly changing landscape of the Ballan Desert, she had seen fit to put distance between us and our defeat. Kaius shuddered in my arms, drawing my attention down to him.
I worked quickly, dismounting and lifting him off his mount’s back after me. I wished we had something to lay him on, but we had nothing but the clothes on our back and the meager weapons we carried, so I lowered him to the ground .
Another shudder wracked his form, and dread took root in my heart as I took in the pallor of his tanned skin and the blue tinge of his lips.
“We have to get this arrow out of you,” I murmured.
A way away, I heard a pained whimper as Aderyn helped Neven off her horse, but I paid it no mind, instead reaching for the shaft that stuck out of my father’s flesh.
The arrow had embedded itself deeply—I thought it had hit his shoulder, but now I saw that it had pierced his chest, deep enough that it must have found a space between his ribs.
As I moved to pull it out, his hand grasped mine, stopping me. His hold was startlingly weak, but it was sure.
“No,” I insisted. I wrenched free of his hold, reaching for the arrow again. This time, a different hand stopped me. My eyes flicked up to find Keera kneeling beside me. Her eyes were overbright with unshed tears, but I didn’t want to see them. I knew what they meant, and I shook my head.
“She’s right,” Kaius gasped, his voice thin and reedy, barely stronger than the wind rustling arrowgrass. “I knew she was a smart one. You should hold on to her.”
I shook my head, unable to speak around the lump rising in my throat, but hoping that if I just denied it enough, I could stop the life I could already feel slipping from his body.
Every living being in the desert carried a flame within them, and his was already flickering and sputtering—and it had always been so steady.
“Promise me something,” Kaius said, each word sounding like a tremendous effort. “I gave you a great name, not because I thought you would be a great king, but because I saw in you the potential to be what this desert needed. The whole desert, not just Kelvadan. Don’t make me look like a fool.”
The burning in my eyes grew to a point I could no longer contain, and I blinked, trying to keep my father’s face in focus, sending hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I opened my mouth to speak, but only one choked syllable came out.
“ Dad.”
“I’m glad you came home.” With one last crooked smile, my father died .
The fibers of the desert shuddered within me, as if having to adjust to a sudden rearrangement, and my hands shook as I reached up to close his eyes.
Where the desert had never felt sparse before—full of life for those who knew how to listen to her rhythms—now there was a large emptiness at her core.
Somehow, I made myself move away from my father’s side.
At some point, Keera had slipped her hand into mine, and as I glanced at our interlaced fingers, I saw the blood that still splattered them.
We had narrowly escaped with our lives, and we had no time for grief.
We were alone in the middle of the desert, with nothing but our wits and a broken gemstone laying heavy in my pocket.
I pushed to my feet and wiped my face dry, looking around at the tattered group we made. Keera was barely dressed, not even wearing shoes, although she held her saber. The sword strapped to my own back was shattered in two.
Aderyn kneeled over Neven, who laid on the ground, appearing unconscious with a mangled hand resting on his chest. I walked over to them, and kneeled on the ground across from her, on Neven’s opposite side.
She didn’t look up, but her jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I’m sorry that the city was lost, and I couldn’t do enough to stop it, even after I promised you.”
“We live to fight another day,” she said, her voice hard. She looked up at me, fixing me with her piercing stare. “Now I need you to make me a new promise.”
I nodded.
“Vow to me that this fight is not over, and that we will reclaim Kelvadan.”
I held out my hand to her. “I vow not to rest until all corners of the Ballan Desert are restored, including the Great City.”
She clasped my forearm, and we locked eyes. Behind the cold despair in her gaze, I saw a lick of the icy fire I remembered from sparring with her. We were not defeated yet .
“I see a rider!”
My head jerked up as Keera called out, and indeed, a lone figure on a horse stood out starkly among the crimson-stained dunes as they weaved toward us. I stood, moving to stand beside Keera, who held her saber before her in warning.
The rider did not seem concerned, continuing to approach until I could make out a familiar face.
“Lord Dhara?” I asked.
She smiled. “Lord Koen had a dream last night that you needed our help. When a familiar falcon landed at our encampment half an hour ago, I wondered if you might be nearby.”
“Your encampment?” Keera asked.
Lord Dhara gestured over her shoulder. “Just beyond that rise.”
Relief washed over me, but Lord Dhara’s smile faded as she let her gaze wonder over our tattered group—Aderyn crouched protectively over Neven’s unconscious form and my father’s body lying lifeless in the sand.
“Come,” she said, dismounting from her own horse to help. “I will take you to our encampment, and you can tell us all that has happened.”