Empire of Sand

I started awake. Squinting against the morning light that crept in through the canopy of tree limbs above, I turned my head left and then right, reorienting myself. Last night Birdie and I had stopped by Eleanor’s Inn on the fringes of Cryth, only to find they had no rooms available. We continued on toward Tristan, bedding down for the night in the woods, a few feet off the beaten path. Though the woods themselves were dark and still, I could tell I’d slept later than I’d intended. I cursed and scrambled up, waving out my wool blanket and seeing to my personal needs. I’d just finished when Birdie cried out, and I rushed to her side, expecting to find a snake at her heels. Instead, I followed her wide-eyed gaze toward the southern roads, where a band of six masked riders rode hard in our direction.

My heart pounded in my chest. Working quickly, I saddled my horse and tossed the few unpacked items on her back, barely stopping to secure them. I climbed on and urged her forward, keeping to the shadows the trees provided. With any luck, they were just travelers behind schedule, but Birdie’s instinct and mine seemed to agree that these men spelled trouble.

“Faster, Birdie!” I pleaded as panic clawed through my spine and up into my throat. Birdie’s breathing was ragged as her powerful legs worked through the underbrush, leaping over downed tree logs and galloping over mossy rocks. The men were closing in fast. I could hear their voices now, a combination of shouts and raucous laughter. I had no weapons; only the small dagger I’d tucked in my waistband for hunting or defense against smaller wildlife- nothing that would stand up to six armed men.

Birdie squealed and bucked, and I screamed as she catapulted me forward into the clearing, landing in a pile of fallen leaves. The air left my body on impact, and pain shot through me in vicious waves, jarring me to the bone. Birdie pranced nervously, bobbing her head while she panicked, and the men took advantage of my misfortune and encircled us, two of them dismounting and approaching me where I lay.

“Look at what we’ve found, Marcus,” the tallest of the men commented.

Marcus, whose face was swathed in black cloth, ducked his head, his icy blue gaze raking over my disheveled form. I sprang to my feet, staggering as my head swam. The woods seemed to tilt and realign as my vision refocused. My fingers twitched at my sides as I considered drawing my dagger.

“Who are you?” I demanded. The taller man laughed while the shorter one he’d called Marcus studied me like cornered prey. The tall man closed the distance between us in a few long strides and stood close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. He smelled like wine and cigars. His eyes were the only part of him unobscured by black- and even his eyes were dark and depthless.

“That is of no consequence, I’m afraid. What have you got in the pack?” he asked, gesturing toward Birdie’s saddle. My eyes darted in her direction, and she regarded me with a worried glance. I looked down at the ground, cursing the mud beneath my feet. Mud was harder to manipulate than sand, even for an experienced sand splitter, and I was inexperienced.

“Nothing of value,” I replied.

The man clicked his tongue and encircled me, his gaze raking across me just as the shorter man’s had done. The others perched on their horses like crows, awaiting their moment to pick at my bones.

“Now I hardly believe that to be true,” the man whispered. His eyes flashed, and I drew the blade swiftly, lashing out at him in one swipe. He dodged it deftly, drawing his own blade, solid and gleaming and twice the length of my own. The hilt was polished brass and expensive- looking.

“Who did you steal that from?” I asked, circling him. He studied the blade, maneuvering it to catch the sunlight.

“I don’t recall the lad’s name. Only that he was a terrible shot.”

The men behind him roared with laughter, and Marcus spat at my feet.

“You are a pretty little thing,” the tall man continued. “Your manners are unfortunate, but I’m sure that’s a matter we could remedy. What do you think, gents? Should we take her with us?”

The men began to hoot and holler, and I glowered at them all. There was no way I could make my way back to my horse and outride them. My ribs smarted, and I suspected I had broken one or two during my fall. My blade would fail in a duel with the man’s brass one. I would have to use my ability instead. Drawing in a deep breath, I sent my power out, grasping at the dirt beneath the man’s feet, curling my fingers as it shifted. Shocked, he leaped back, his eyes wide with amazement as he watched the dirt part, leaving behind a crater where he’d once stood. Frustrated, I forced my will forward, aiming to create a larger crater, one to swallow him up. The dirt moved as I bid it, only slowly, giving the man the opportunity to sidestep my attempts.

“A sand splitter,” he whispered.

Then his eyes flashed, and I knew I had only made the situation worse. Whatever value he’d believed I had before had now tripled.

The other men dismounted their horses and the six of them closed in, three of them drawing their weapons. Birdie’s head snapped toward the clearing behind us, having heard something off in the distance. I feigned left and then jumped right, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a sword. Marcus charged, and I grunted and cut my hands through the air, calling the dirt forward and hurling it into his eyes. He cried out and clawed at his face as the tallest of the men attempted to grab me, and I screamed and kicked at him, landing a blow to his knee.

The sound of horse’s hooves approached with great speed. The men glanced behind them in time to see its rider sweep out with his sword, cutting down two of them. The horse was a valuable breed, carefully tended to. Its glistening coat and strong flanks distinguished it from the pasture horses I’d tended to all my life. The man wore dark clothing, but his bare face seemed familiar as he rode past us, turning to make another pass and cutting down two more of my attackers.

Then, in one graceful movement, he leaped from his horseback and charged at the taller man, sweeping his sword like a dance and landing a powerful blow as steel met steel. The tall man parried and charged, and the stranger leaped over the low-handed sweep of his blade, connecting with his blade. Then he brought his elbow up, using it to break the highwayman’s nose. With a shocked exclamation, the masked man stumbled back, his mask slipping from his face. He was only a few years older than me, with a long scar that started along his hairline and ended below his jaw. His nose bled profusely, and his lips were fixed in a snarl. Marcus, having cleared the sand from his eyes, charged next, and the stranger used his sword to sever a finger and disarm him in one sweep.

I watched them in stunned silence. I eyed Birdie again, calculating the distance between us, reconsidering my escape. The man from Cryth was the one who had watched me from a distance. He turned to face me, and his eyes captured mine, reminding me of warm honey.

“Are you hurt, miss?” he asked.

Satisfied that he had dispatched the others, he paid them no mind as he assessed my injuries- or lack thereof. That was when Marcus charged him again, this time from behind, swinging his sword with the other hand. I gasped, having no time to call out a warning to the stranger. Instead, I flicked my fingers, sending a wave of fresh soil at Marcus’s stumbling form, causing him to trip and fall sideways. The stranger spun just in time, and while Marcus lay glowering at us both, the stranger used the hilt of his sword to knock the man unconscious.

“It’s best we leave now,” he told me.

So, we did.