The heat.
It was real. His eyes snapped open and he hurried faster. There was light. He grunted and crawled on as the heat intensified. Every second he wasted from this point on was another liability. As he got closer, the temperature rose dramatically. Had it ever been this hot anywhere? He could only marvel at the shamanfolk who somehow survived in such an environment.
When he reached the end, his head wouldn’t fit.
“Sands, come on,” he said, fingers digging at sand and rocks that prevented him from fitting through. Their very touch was scalding, but he had no other option. He had to dig. He grit his teeth and clawed away, trying to fit his head around a different spot after moving some gravel away.
It worked. His hands broke through and he grasped the outside of the tunnel, screaming at the pain that seared his flesh from touching the burning surface. He kicked out of the tunnel and scrambled behind a single boulder that provided just enough cover from the sun.
He took a deep breath, shaking his hands of the pain. He was deep in the Scorched Waste. Time was of the essence. The city wall was shimmering in the distance. It didn’t seem too far. He was sure he could sprint there in time.
“Gah,” Hatan sputtered. “This is where I die.”
He shoved off of the boulder and started sprinting, boots digging into the sand as he raced toward the Ring. The going was slow, but he knew he needed to pace himself to cover the distance. Tiring himself out too fast wouldn’t do him any good.
But the sun was scathingly hot. The ground itself permeated with a heat that left him feeling dry to the bone. Whatever water had lingered on his clothes was gone, leaving his clothes stiff with minerals and dirt.
His eyes fixed on the walls ahead as he kept a steady pace, ignoring the dried feeling that burned to his lungs with every breath he took. Weariness grasped at his legs all too quickly. His heart pounded as though he’d already run twice the distance. The intense heat of the Scorched Waste was known to sap the energy from those foolish enough to enter. Jogging did nothing to help, but walking would only lengthen his time in the heat. There was no better tradeoff than to keep moving.
A patch of rocks provided much needed relief from the labored steps over the sand. He followed their trail as long as possible
The wall was getting closer, but his eyes—it was so hard to keep them open. He was already fading.
They need me. Jehubal needs me. He couldn’t let Kyel’s death be in vain.
He clenched his teeth and drove on, stumbling with nearly every step.
The wall. It was so close. How long had he been running?
He was almost there. He reached out his hands and fell face first into the sand.
Chapter eight
Secrets
Katsi hovered through the halls of the castle, resisting the urge to touch the carved tracery that ran horizontally through the wall at about chest-height. The design was immaculate. She never thought she could find art so fascinating, but then she realized she’d never been exposed to such awesome art before.
Plus, she was seeking distraction. There were still a few marks left before this celebration, and she had little interest in spending a whole mark getting ready and then being suffocated by a large crowd of people. At least, that’s how she was imagining it. She subconsciously followed the direction Alyssad ran off to. She couldn’t help that growing sense of curiosity. What was urgent enough to have him tromping off? Perhaps it was word about Migo’s battle. What if things had gone terribly wrong?
Here she was, safe inside a castle, while Migo was off fighting battles. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one who possessed great power? Shouldn’t it be her out there trying to secure their safety? Sands, she could command lightning now. She could only imagine what she might be able to do in a battle.
A door slammed open from just around the corner.
Katsi hurried to the end of the hall and peeked around.
It was Alyssad’s room. She’d really been following him all the way here?
Alyssad strode out, black cape flowing behind him. He looked directly at her. So much for subtlety. “Katsi,” he said, his deep voice rumbling off the walls. “We need to go. Now.”
“Why?” Katsi dropped her feet back to the ground, stomach tightening with a combination of annoyance and trepidation.
“A town is under attack,” Alyssad snarled. “Citizens are being harvested.”
“Harvested?” Katsi said, eyes widening.
“Yes,” Alyssad said, stopping right in front of her, his dark eyes intense. “They will be mutated in waheshi. It’s how the bleeders build their armies. But we can still save them—if we hurry.”
“Sands. How? Where?”
“Follow me,” he said, turning back around toward his room. “It’s a village in Habkamal called Ubedim.”
“Habkamal. But that’s so far. I’d never make it there in time.”
“We will. I have the means.” Instead of going back into his room, Alyssad faced the wall of the hallway to his right and pushed against the stone. It folded inwards, and he descended a set of stairs.
Katsi hurried after him, fighting the worry that settled over her like a tight blanket. She’d just been thinking about this. About using her power to do something good. To make a difference. A staircase wound beneath Alyssad’s room. She quickened her pace to keep up with him as he dashed into the darkness, lit only by a distant light near the very end.
The stairs ended in a room lined with shelves, covered in obscure objects. A single, small window let in the only light. Katsi blinked, hoping her eyes would adjust sooner.
Alyssad ran his hand across a shelf until he snatched an item off, though it simply looked like an elongated rock. “Grab hold,” he said, holding it out to her.
Katsi narrowed her eyes at him, but the intensity in his gaze urged her on. She grabbed the other end of the rock. It felt cool. Nothing significant.
“Take a deep breath, then repeat after me,” he said. “Hab-kaladim dof.”
Katsi did as instructed, taking a deep breath, she repeated the phrase. “Hab-kaladim dof.”
All sound ceased. Her vision became stretches of light, and it felt as though something tugged forcefully at her arm, and she couldn’t let go. But Alyssad stood firmly before her. She fixed her eyes on him while the world around her spun.
