Authors: Jenn Reese
Mirage (5 page)
“We crushed the Serpenti after that,” Tayan said. “A few of them escaped into the desert, and we vowed to hunt them down, every last one, and put an end to the violence — and to the Venom War — forever.” She paused and stared down at her front hooves for a moment before continuing. “We searched for the remaining Serpenti for years, and eventually Shining Moon managed to capture two of the beasts. One died during questioning, but we had high hopes of interrogating the second, of finally discovering the location of their hidden stronghold. We feared that they were planning another war, and we wanted to end it before it began.”
“This is interesting, but I don’t see what it has to do with Dash,” Aluna said. She didn’t like where this story was going. She didn’t want Dash to have anything to do with the Serpenti or the Venom War.
“You will,” Tayan said grimly. “The information we got from the prisoners would have brought great honor to Shining Moon. We would have been awarded greater birthing rights at the Thunder Trials. Our herd would have thrived. But when Khan Arasen, my father, went to interrogate the remaining prisoner, the Serpenti was gone — along with a crate of medical supplies needed by our own people.”
Her accusation hung there, like smoke over the fire. Aluna thought she might choke on it.
“The Serpenti escaped,” Aluna said finally. “That’s the only explanation. All this time, you’ve been persecuting Dash for something he didn’t even do. I bet it was easy to blame someone you were already calling a mistake.”
“Which is exactly what I said to my father,” Tayan said. “Only . . . Dashiyn admitted to the whole thing. He admitted to stealing the medicine, freeing the prisoner, and directly lending aid to our mortal enemies. We did not even have to ask him. He sought an audience with the khan and told us everything without prompting.”
If Tayan was right, then Dash was a traitor. Aluna put her face in her hands. She wanted to scream at Tayan, to call her a liar and force her to retract what she’d said. But she knew Tayan wasn’t a liar. Based on just the few hours since they’d met, Aluna would have staked her life on that.
The fire flickered in a sudden gust of wind. Aluna looked up and saw Calli swooping down for a landing, her tawny wings wide to slow her descent, her arms full of cactuses. Dash was still a way off, jogging back with two scrawny rabbits swinging from one hand.
She’d ask him about all of this. She’d listen to his side. The Dash she knew was honorable. He’d never betray his own people. Then again, it did explain why he’d been unwilling to talk about his exile before now. And why he sometimes seemed to be filled with equal parts regret and self-hate.
Maybe this time she didn’t really want the truth at all.
H
OKU WAS STILL GNAWING
on his last piece of grilled cactus when Tayan stood near the flames and cleared her throat. The sky covered them all in blackness. It wasn’t the thick, cozy dark of the ocean at night, but it comforted him all the same. And he liked being able to see the stars.
“I think Tayan’s going to tell a story,” Aluna whispered. “I remember Dash telling us about this, about how the Equians tell stories all night long, trying to coax the sun back into the sky.”
“All night?” Calli asked. “When do they sleep?”
“They take turns, but they don’t have to sing all night if there are only a few of them,” Aluna said. “I just hope we don’t have to join in. After today’s march, I could sleep like a whale.”
Hoku looked across the fire at Dash. He hadn’t spoken much since he’d been taken prisoner in Mirage. Hoku couldn’t even imagine what dark thoughts were filling his head. If only Aluna would go sit next to him and ask him what was wrong. But no. Aluna respected him too much to pry. And Dash respected her too much to heap his problems on her. Hoku glanced over at Calli. She looked back at him and smiled, and his insides warmed.
Aluna and Dash were clearly doing it wrong. Although to be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure what he and Calli were doing right. There was a lot of smiling and blushing and talking and occasionally some hand-holding. For now, that was all he needed.
Tayan started to speak. It was some sort of ritual calling to the missing sun. Hoku loved the way her voice got loud and high, then sank back lower and softer, pulling him in just like a wave. She stomped her hooves in the sand — sometimes just one or two, sometimes all four in quick succession — creating a rhythm that mesmerized him. When she began her first story, he forgot about their terrible day in Mirage. He forgot about all the sand and dirt caked to his skin. He even forgot about Scorch and High Khan Onggur and the long journey still ahead of them.
All he could do was listen.
Listen. Listen. To the sand, to the moon. Listen. Listen.
Chabi was the last of her herd. Not the smartest. Not the strongest. Not the sleekest. Not the fastest. Chabi was the last Flame Heart.
She buried her kin. Buried her sire. Mourned her dam. They were killed by Snakes in the dark while fire blazed, killed while the word-weavers called to the sun, killed while the warriors slept. With knives and with poison they were killed. Vile Snakes. Venom-filled. Under the dark of no moon.
Chabi ran until her feet caught fire, until her coat bled flames, until anger burned her heart. Chabi was the last of her herd.
Listen. Listen.
Altan was the last of his herd. Not the smartest. Not the strongest. Not the sleekest. Not the fastest. Altan was the last Wind Seeker.
He buried his kin. Buried his dam. Mourned his sire. They were killed by another herd in bright of day, on the field of war, on the clean white sand. Killed for their food. Killed for their foals. Red Sky took them. Claimed them. Grew stronger with their blood. Under the warm light, under the sun.
Altan ran until his feet froze, until his coat turned to ice, until his heart turned blue. Altan was the last of his herd.
Chabi and Altan ran. They ran for years. They ran for decades. They tried to outrun their pain. But no one runs faster than war.
Listen. Listen.
The Snakes came in numbers greater than the stars. Vile venom-vipers. Tail bashing, sword slashing. The sands turned red. The sands burned red. Khans fell. Herds died. No more Whispering Gait. Farewell, Golden Bow.
Brave were the warriors of the desert. Brave were our hoof-brothers, tail-sisters. But no one outruns war. No one outruns death. The sands turned red. The sands burned red.
The great desert herds gathered in the Valley of the Dead for one final battle, one last Snake slaughter. Outnumbered. Outmatched. Ten Snakes, fresh and fierce, for every horse blade. Ten for every sleek bow. We prepared to join the sun.
And then they came. Fire and cold ice. Anger and loss. Chabi and Altan, from the desert on hooves of flame and frost. They met for the first time in the Valley of the Dead, on the eve of our end. Red heat and silver freeze. Where they first spoke, air sizzled. Smoke twisted up to the sky.
Together they challenged the Snakes. Together they fought the Snake kings, the Snake pharos, in the Valley of the Dead. The battle raged for eight days. Sword-slick, blood-heavy.
Listen. Listen.
Altan and Chabi fought for us. The desert. Our bloodlines. Our future. They were the last of their herds, but not the last of their kind.
When Altan faltered, Chabi fought in his place. When Chabi dropped her blade, Altan gave her his own. Fire and ice. Ice and fire. The Snake kings fell.
Singing. Dancing. Loving. Joy. The herds of the desert outran war.
But as the herds sang and danced and loved and laughed, Altan and Chabi fell. Green venom in their veins. Green venom in their blood. No one outruns death.
They died together. Fire and ice, anger and sorrow. Altan and Chabi. And the place where they fell sizzles still, smoke twining into the air, hot and cold.
They were the last of their herds.
Listen. Listen. To the sand, to the moon.
Remember. Remember.
When Tayan finished her tale, she touched two fingers to her heart, lowered her head, and backed away from the fire. Dash stood up and began the next story almost immediately.
Hoku shook himself out of his stupor. He’d never seen the Valley of the Dead, but images of fire and ice, of swords and blood and sand, filled his mind. Even his heart thumped faster than normal. Maybe it was trying to outrun death.
It reminded him of the battle at the HydroTek dome, when Dash had held off the Upgraders while Hoku accessed the computer. If only the Equians could have seen Dash fight! Even with a wounded arm, he was brilliant and brave. A hero, just like Altan and Chabi. If Shining Moon had any sense, they wouldn’t punish Dash; they’d write songs about him.
Fingertips touched his shoulder. He jumped, then relaxed when he saw Calli next to him.
“You off in the sky somewhere?” she whispered.
He smiled. “No, definitely still in the desert, on the ground. And still hungry.”
Calli offered him a piece of cactus. He looked at it balefully. “I miss the sandwiches at Skyfeather’s Landing.”
“Be honest,” Calli said, poking him in the arm. “You miss the mustard more than anything.”
“You know me so well,” he said.
Dash’s story involved a legendary archer and his pet falcon, but Hoku missed most of it. His eyes slipped closed for longer and longer periods, until Calli nudged him and made him crawl over to the bedding pile.
Equians slept standing up to keep the desert’s creepy-crawlies from getting into their ears and noses during the night. Hoku envied them. Dash’s stories about brain parasites and bone-eating beetles had made sleeping impossible during the first few days of their journey to Mirage. But now he and Aluna and Calli had become experts at leaning against one another to keep their heads off the sand. It wasn’t restful sleep. Calli’s wings were soft but rustled too much and sometimes tickled his ears, and Aluna grunted in her dreams, as if she were perpetually fighting off Upgraders. Dash slept alone — if he slept at all.
But tonight Hoku didn’t care about any of that. He made it to his blanket and collapsed, ear close to the sand. If the creepy-crawlies wanted him tonight, they could have him. Dash finished his story, and Tayan began the next. “Listen. Listen,” she said, and that’s all Hoku remembered.
Strangely, he wasn’t the last one awake in the morning. Normally he opened his eyes and found Calli preening her feathers and Aluna already off stretching or practicing with her weapons. But this morning, he saw Calli circling high above their camp and Aluna’s familiar shape curled nearby on her blanket.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” he asked.
She groaned. “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You never sleep later than me. Not even when you’re sick. Something’s wrong.”
She rolled over. “I’m fine. Give me a minute, and I’ll be fine.”
He touched her shoulder. “Tides’ teeth, if you’re sick, I’ll ask Tayan to carry you. It’s stupid that Equians never let anyone ride on their backs. She could easily —”
“No,” Aluna said harshly, pulling away from his touch. And then a word he rarely heard from her: “Please.”
He let his hand drift back to his side but couldn’t keep the frown off his face. A shadow blurred by. He shielded his eyes and looked up. Calli drifted and spun in the air. She couldn’t fly most days because the blowing sand got in her eyes and feathers. Aviars were definitely not built for the desert.
