Mirage (22 page)

Pharo Zahra chuckled. It was such an unexpected reaction to such dark words that even Aluna gasped.

“The candle was always destined to die,” Pharo Zahra said. Her voice sounded like silk. “Whether the flame is snuffed today or tonight, or even allowed to burn down to its last drop of wax, makes no difference to the world. In the end, the darkness wins.”

“No,” Aluna said. “It does make a difference.”

They all turned to look at her, and she wasn’t even sure why she’d spoken. Except Zahra’s words reminded her of something. Of the way the Kampii Elders had talked, back when their breathing necklaces were failing and the whole colony had been slowly dying. “Wait and do nothing” had been an acceptable plan of action for them — including her father — but not for Aluna. Not for Hoku.

“Every day makes a difference,” Aluna said. “Every day you survive is a victory. And every day you’re alive and fighting is a day you may find the answer that wins you another month, another year, another lifetime.” She stood there, her legs strapped together and slowly turning into a tail, and felt a familiar surge of anger building inside of her. “You’re the spiritual leader of your people,” she said to Pharo Zahra. “You, of all the Serpenti, should understand how important it is to fight. Hope is the most powerful weapon we have, and you’re not even using it.”

Hope
. That she could save her people from Fathom. That even now, lost in the desert, she could save her people from Scorch, and Karl Strand, and whatever horrors came after them.

Pharo Bomani rose up on his snake coils. The muscles in his arms bulged as he hefted the long ceremonial pike that had been nestled in a holster on the back of his throne. “Finally, an outsider who speaks the truth.”

“The truth she speaks will only bring more pain, more suffering,” Zahra said. Her placid expression faded into something darker. “If we hear hoofbeats over our heads, we should welcome eternal night, even before we feel the cut of their blades.”

Bomani spat on the ground between their thrones. “You would have us drink poison and do the work for our enemies.”

“I would have us choose the method of our passing,” Zahra said.

“Lying down and welcoming death is not how we should be remembered!” Bomani countered.

“Wait, please,” Tayan said. Somehow, Aluna had almost forgotten that the Equian stood in their group. She’d been so silent during the proceeding. “All is not lost. I do not think the herds understand the situation here. They live off memories and feed on dreams of future glory. If they know —”

“That we are barely here, barely alive?” Pharo Bomani said. “You think pity will stay their hands?”

“No,” Tayan said quickly, “but I think honor might.”

“There is no honor in slaughter,” Dash said. “We need only make our people see the truth of the situation.”

Pharo Zahra hissed. “The talk of fools. Making the Equians change their ways is akin to asking the sun to withhold its light.”

“The whole world is changing,” Aluna said. “We can’t afford to live alone in our cubbies and niches anymore. None of us can. Not all of the Equians feel the same way. Just as you two disagree, there are some among them who may welcome peace between your people.”

“Peace,” Zahra said. “There is no peace while the horse clans rule the desert.”

“In this we are agreed,” Pharo Bomani said. “I have yet to meet the Equian who values peace.”

Dash stepped forward. “I saved Nathif, even though I lost everything I cherished in my life to do so. I gave up the desert, and now even my life itself is forfeit.”

No one spoke. Even the rasp of Bomani’s snake body coiling against itself slowed and fell silent. Aluna held her breath. When she looked at Dash, she saw everything he loved about the desert. She saw honor and self-sacrifice, skill and kindness. She saw an Equian without four hooves but with the biggest heart. What did the Serpenti see?

Finally, Pharo Bomani said, “There is, perhaps, hope for the Equians.”

“And if there is hope for our horse brothers and sisters, there may be hope for us,” Pharo Zahra said. Her dark eyes had lost some of their sharpness. “But what can we do? How do we reach out a hand in friendship before it is severed at a distance?”

“My father will listen,” Tayan said. “He is khan of Shining Moon, and our reputation is strong. Except . . .”

“Red Sky,” Aluna said. “And Scorch. If Red Sky wins the Thunder Trials, Shining Moon and the other herds must pledge their loyalty or be slaughtered.”

“But if Shining Moon wins the Trials, we have a chance for peace with the Serpenti,” Dash said.

“It’s no good,” Aluna said. “We can’t put all our hopes on a herd that doesn’t even want us.” She looked at Tayan, still weak and cradling her arm against her torso. “Tayan is the only one of us welcome among Shining Moon, and she can’t fight. I refuse to sit back and watch the fate of the entire desert — the entire world — be won or lost through other people’s actions.”

“I agree,” Dash said.

“Then we must make our own herd,” Tayan said quietly. “We must recover one of the lost Equian bloodlines, declare our own herd, and march to the Thunder Trials ourselves.”

Aluna looked sharply at her. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Of course I do,” Tayan snapped. “But I do not need to give up my allegiance to Shining Moon in order to join another herd. Family groups often form across herds, and no one is asked to give up their herd colors. I will always be Shining Moon. But . . . I am willing to be something else, too.”

“Khan?” Dash said.

Tayan’s brow creased and her tail swished. But her hesitation was brief. She nodded. “Yes. A herd must be led by a full Equian. I am the only one of us —”

“Besides Dash and Tal,” Aluna said.

“Besides Dashiyn and Tal,” Tayan amended, “with the proper lineage. My presence will make the other herds treat us with more respect.”

Aluna wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Tayan would make an excellent khan — she’d been training for the role her whole life. “Will joining a new herd protect Dash from being killed by Shining Moon?” she asked.

Tayan nodded. “Yes. Normally, no herd would take in an
aldagha
, especially one condemned to death by another herd. But our new herd will be different.”

“We have no new herd,” Dash said. “The Trials are only a few weeks away, and we must first find a bloodline. There may well be none remaining.”

Aluna noticed the two pharos whispering to each other on their thrones. Nathif shifted on his coils, a strange grin growing on his face.

“What is it?” Aluna said. “What do you know? We’re trying to save you, as well as ourselves!” Even now, the Serpenti fell back into secrecy. Was there truly any hope for the world while silence and distrust held so much power over its people?

Nathif looked to the pharos and raised an eyebrow. Pharo Bomani hissed and sat back on his throne. Pharo Zahra nodded. “Go on. Tell them.”

Nathif turned to face them, his snake body quietly slithering to readjust for the change in direction. “Back when there were more than a handful of us, we annihilated three of the Equian herds. Two destroyed their bloodlines before we could capture them, but one did not. We have kept it safe ever since.”

“Which one?” Dash asked quietly.

“Oh, one of the lesser bloodlines, I am sure,” Nathif said, feigning nonchalance. Even now, the snake-boy couldn’t resist toying with them. “Have you heard of Flame Heart? It is the bloodline of your hero Chabi.”

H
OKU SAT BY CALLI’S SIDE
, her limp hand clutched between both of his. The Equian medics had stopped the poison’s progress through her bloodstream, but they had no antidote. Either her body would find a way to defeat it or she would slowly die.

He squeezed her hand and ignored the grumbling in his stomach. Sweat dappled Calli’s forehead, even in the medics’ tech-cooled tent, even at night. Occasionally, she rolled over or moaned. He leaned close when she did, wondering if she might be trying to speak, hoping to hear his name.

Behind him, the tent flap rustled. Hooves clomped on the carpets layered on the ground. Hoku didn’t turn to look.

“Weaver Sokhor has fled, along with two dozen of his allies,” Dantai said, his breath coming in gasps. “We did not realize so many were loyal to his cause. We suspect he is working with Karl Strand and Scorch directly — High Khan Onggur would never knowingly use poison.”

He knew Dantai and the others had been looking for Sokhor for hours, but he just didn’t care.

Dantai clomped closer. “She should never have been used like this, friend Hoku,” he said, his voice softer and more humble than Hoku had ever heard it before. And still, he didn’t care. He felt tears building up in his eyes and gritted his teeth until they disappeared. He would not cry. He would not be weak, even for one moment, while Calli needed him.

Later — he wasn’t sure when — Dantai left. Eventually, Hoku saw the sky lighten through the thick cloth walls of the tent. The Equian medics came at regular intervals, bringing water and liquid food for Calli. Someone put a tray of fruit and meat on the carpet beside him. He ignored it.

At some point, he slept, jolting awake whenever his hand started to slip from Calli’s. He didn’t want her to recover and find him unconscious, unable to perform even the simple task of sitting by her side. And so he recited formulas in his head and tried to solve the remaining problem he was having with the force shield.

The next time the tent flap rustled, he recognized the smell. And the grunting. And the voice.

“Stupid basic, on your butt when there’s work to be done,” Rollin said.

He started to turn around, then stopped himself and focused on Calli.

Rollin grunted again, and he heard the thud of something heavy hitting the carpet nearby. He couldn’t help it. He looked.

“Commbox won’t stop squawking,” Rollin said, adjusting one of the dials. “Your friends keep calling, wanting to know where you are, wanting to know about the girl, talk-talk-talking as if I don’t have work to do. As if I’m your bleeding message service.” She stood back up and dusted off her normal hand on her pants. “What else you want from the tent, eh?”

“Nothing,” Hoku said, eyeing the commbox. The dials were just out of reach. “I don’t want anything.”

Rollin stumbled over and kicked him in the arm.

“Ow! What are you doing?” Hoku scooted away from her, but didn’t release Calli’s hand.

“Waking you up, you ridiculous basic,” she said matter-of-factly, as if her words actually made sense. “You think she wants you to dwindle into a stick? You weren’t exactly a tree trunk to start. You think she wants you to give up on your makings?”

Hoku looked at Calli, at her eyes jerking back and forth underneath her eyelids.

“Give up if you want,” Rollin huffed. “Great way to show her you care. Great way to help your friends. Time-honored method of being ridiculous.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hoku said. His body felt weak, useless, but a surge of anger lent him strength. “You don’t have anyone except your gizmos. You don’t know what it’s like to almost lose someone you care about!”

Rollin raised an eyebrow, but the twisty smile on her face stayed exactly in place, as if she’d glued it there. “Don’t know loss? Don’t know love?” She huffed. “Seems the basic knows a lot about me all of a sudden. And like always, he’s wrong.”

She shuffled toward the tent flap, her hooked hand scratching her hip as she walked. “I’ll be bringing your things. The shield and the girl’s bow. I’ll work on the horse harness myself. Could use a bit of exercise. Besides, maybe the horse will be my friend, since I apparently got no others.” She chuckled and left.

The energy drained from Hoku’s body, as quickly as it had come. He was tired. That’s why he’d said those horrible things. Rollin had kicked him, after all.

He eyed the commbox. Had Aluna and Dash really used it again? He eased himself toward it, trying to continue holding Calli’s hand. He didn’t make it very far. Maybe Calli wouldn’t mind if he just held on to her with one hand. He slowly unclasped his right hand, stretched his fingers, and scooted toward the commbox. With his arm outstretched, he was still a few centimeters from touching the knobs.

Rollin knew exactly what she’d been doing when she put it there, he thought.

Calli’s eyes moved beneath her lids, but less frantically now. Her pulse seemed weak but steady, her breathing even. Gently, he placed her hand on the carpet and released it.

She didn’t even notice. He watched her a few seconds longer, then quietly maneuvered to the commbox, grabbing a piece of fruit from the food tray on his way. He bit into its skin and let the juice run down his chin.

When Rollin returned, she didn’t say anything about his move. She only grunted and dropped his force shield and bag of tools by his side. When she turned to leave, Hoku said, “The horse harness pulls to the right. I’m not sure I have the gyroscopic stabilizer calibrated correctly. It thinks Aluna weighs twice as much as it should.”

“Perfect for me, then,” Rollin said with a crooked smile. Then she nodded. “I’ll check it.”

As she disappeared out the flap, Hoku wondered if he should have said something else. Something a little closer to “thank you.”