Page 53

After only a few minutes, I understood Kysa’s bias toward rock beetles.

The wind shrieked around us as we flew higher into the storm, and soon the ground vanished completely. As I hunched my shoulders,

pulling on my hood to further shield my face from the driving sand, the wind suddenly stopped altogether. Blinking, I looked

around and saw that we had risen out of the storm and were flying beneath a completely clear sky. Below us, the sands raged

and howled, blotting out the land beneath, but up here, the stars stretched on forever, and the air was free of dust and grit.

“This should pass soon,” our rider said, peering down at the choking cloud below. “The storms are volatile, but they never

last long on the steppes. And once the winds die down, the fire jaws should return underground.”

I shivered in the crisp, cold air, and Raithe drew me closer, shielding me from the wind. “Is there a reason these creatures

come out during storms?” he asked the rider, who shrugged.

“No one really knows,” he replied. “Why the fire jaws swarm during a storm has been a mystery of the steppes for as long as we’ve been here.

Not all storms, either. In fact, it’s pretty rare for them to get so aggressive.

But every once in a while, when a storm blows in, the fire jaws come out of their tunnels in a frenzy and devour anything they come across. ”

“Then we are very lucky you decided to show up when you did.”

“Our hive mother gave us the order,” the rider said, nodding back at us. His sharp black eyes fixed on me, curious and appraising.

“Kysa Tal’Rahhe is one of our most respected warriors,” he went on. “It is... unusual for our people to take a liking to

outsiders, but the hive mother knows that any request from an elite warrior is not made lightly. I will warn you, however,

that very few non-riders have seen the inside of our camp. There are a few who will be suspicious of your intentions.”

Moments later, Kysa and Rhyne flew down in a buzz of wings, with the third rider following. “The storm is abating,” she announced.

Behind her, Halek met my gaze and offered a weak grin. I could tell he wanted to say something about our most recent brush

with death, but it was hard to talk over the drone of the three beetles’ wings. “We’ll meet at Carapace Basin,” Kysa continued.

“I trust the council will be waiting for us.”

“Of course,” our rider said, and gave a wry smile. “We wouldn’t want outsiders to think that we are barbarians.”

The home of the Scarab Clan was unlike anything I had imagined.

From the back of the rock beetle, I watched the storm abate, the winds dying down and the sands settling over the steppes once more.

As Solasti rose over the distant horizon, I saw what had to be Carapace Basin.

The uneven steppes dropped away into a shallow, somewhat ovular bowl, not unlike the underside of a beetle wing.

Dotted throughout the basin were enormous rock structures that, according to our rider, had been scoured so much by wind and sand over the course of millennia that they resembled large quills jutting up from the earth.

Nestled among the rocky spines and scattered in seemingly haphazard clusters throughout the basin were dozens of rounded clay

houses. They seemed barely more than huts, though some had second floors that looked like they had been added on later. It

surprised me; I had been expecting tents, like the one Kysa had used on the steppes. Something that could easily be packed

up and moved. But this village of clay and stone houses seemed very permanent.

“I thought the Scarab people were nomadic,” I said.

Our insect rider glanced over his shoulder and arched a brow at me. “We are,” he replied, with a strange little smile. He

swept the end of his spear toward the sprawl of houses below. “Look at our village,” he said, still gazing back at us. “What

do you see?”

“Houses,” I answered. “Homes. Clay brick and stone, right?” I shrugged. “They don’t seem like the easiest structures to pack

up and move.”

“No, but like most outsiders, you see only what is on the surface,” the rider said, not unkindly. He gestured again with his

weapon. “During the windy season, our village is here, sheltered through the worst of it. When the stonebeak flocks begin

their migration across the steppes, we follow. When the oases dry up and the barren months sweep through this region, they

will not find the village here. We will have already moved on.”

“So you leave your homes behind and go to a new village?”

“No.” The rider smiled. “The homes come with us.”

The drone of wings interrupted him, and another insect rider swooped down before I could ask what in the Void he meant by

that. “You’ve brought the outsiders,” the new rider said, glancing at me and Raithe, then at Kysa coming in behind us. “The

hive mother is waiting for them in the warriors’ hall, along with the lore keeper and War Chief Vorkyth. You are to speak

with her straightaway, Kysa Tal’Rahhe.”

She nodded once. “Understood.”

He turned and buzzed away. I looked down and saw a large, circular building in the center of the village, surrounded by a

fence that looked like it was made of beetle horns. A group of children—boys and girls between ten and twelve years of age—faced

each other inside the perimeter, holding long sticks in front of them. An older teen shouted something, and one line of children

lunged, driving their weapons toward the others, who quickly stepped back, blocked, and returned with their own strikes. One

boy took a vicious blow to the stomach and was knocked down. He lay there, gasping, until his opponent stepped forward and

offered her hand, pulling him back to his feet.

As our beetle flew overhead, the group paused, shielding their faces to gaze up at us. Mouths dropped open, eyes widened,

and they began whispering to each other, until the older boy strode forward and barked an order. The group quickly whirled

back, bowed to him, and raised their sticks to each other again.

Our beetle rider touched down outside the gates, and I slid from the saddle, relieved when my boots hit solid earth again.

I tensed as I gazed around, and my heart began an erratic beat in my chest. We were deep in the Scarab Clan village now, surrounded by warriors and enormous insects.

There was no place to hide, no place to blend in.

What if the clan decided they weren’t going to help?

Or worse, what if they did decide to help, but I failed whatever test they required to prove that I was worthy?

Raithe dropped gracefully beside me a moment before I felt his steady hand on my arm. “Breathe, Sparrow,” he whispered in

my ear. “We’re with you. You’re going to be fine.”

I nodded shakily, stifling the urge to slink away and find a dark corner to melt into. Stop running, Sparrow , I told myself. Raithe was with me, and Halek and Kysa were here, too. I wasn’t doing this alone.

Through the gates, we came to the opening of the warrior hall. It didn’t have doors, but a pair of shimmering, translucent

green curtains hung in the doorway, opaque enough to block the view of whatever lay beyond. A pair of guards stood at the

entrance, but they did not wear the full-body chitin armor worn by Kysa and the other warriors, just a helmet and a chest

plate. They watched as we approached, eyes hard beneath their chitinous helms, but didn’t move as Kysa swept through the fluttering

curtains and led us inside.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light.

The interior of the room was simple, a circular space with a large stone table in the center.

Three figures stood around that table waiting for us.

A slight older woman, a figure with their head and face wrapped in a shawl, and a large man with chitinous black armor covering his whole body.

The spikes on his gauntlets and shoulders jutted wickedly into the air, and the eyes beneath the helm were hard with suspicion.

“Kysa Tal’Rahhe.” The older woman stepped away from the table and came forward. Her hair was steel gray, her face gaunt, with

creases lining her eyes and mouth. Her arms, I saw, were marked with the same inky patterns I’d seen on Kysa. Pausing a few

feet away, she swept fathomless black eyes over the insect rider and nodded once, as if whatever she saw pleased her. “You

have returned to the hive. Welcome home.”

Kysa knelt, briefly touching one knee and her fingertips to the floor. “Thank you, Hive Mother. My pilgrimage taught me much,

but I am pleased to have returned to my clan.”

“Is your mount well, warrior?”

This came from the armored warrior at the table, his deep voice echoing through the room. I couldn’t see much of his face

through the helmet, but his tone was a warning, as if Kysa’s worth as a warrior was tied to Rhyne. And if the beetle had fallen,

she was no longer worthy.

“Rhyne remains uncracked and unbowed, War Chief.” A slight smile touched Kysa’s lips as she rose, a note of pride shining

through her voice. “He fought the fire jaws as they were swarming, and they were unable to pierce him.”

“The fire jaws.” The older woman blew out a short breath. “Fate was with you both indeed,” she murmured. “To encounter the

swarm on one of their rampages...”

The war chief gave a snort. “Foolish to be out in the storm in the first place,” he growled.

“One does not hope to fight a landslide and win.” His dark gaze flickered to me and narrowed.

“I can only assume that you were protecting these outsiders,” he muttered with distaste.

“Who are these strangers that you have brought to us, warrior? Two city dwellers and one of the long-lived race that hide in the Maze like dust mice.”

“War Chief Vorkyth.” The hive mother glared at the larger man, her voice calm but suddenly steely. “I would ask you to remember