Empire of Sand

When I woke the next morning, I was in my own bed. The others were all still sound asleep, Roweena snoring like an obtunded cow. I dressed quietly, sneaking out into the morning air just before the sun had fully risen. Paul stared out into the horizon, his tired form leaning against the nearest tree, a pipe in his mouth.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

Paul straightened and crossed the distance between us in two long strides, brushing my hair away from my face. His face set in hard lines, and his eyes grew dark and murderous. I’d never seen the easy-going Paul wear such and expression, but there it was, as bright and obvious as the rising sun.

“Who hit you?” he asked in a low voice.

I brushed my fingers across my right cheekbone, wincing at the tenderness there. I’d forgotten about the blows I’d taken the night before.

“I had my first match in the pits,” I said.

I felt guilty for my dishonesty, but it was better this way. Paul could assume that was where the injury had come from, and no one would know about our little excursion to the taphouse and the docks. I’d managed to help the captives escape, but I still hadn’t gleaned any new information about Ian’s death. Had he visited the docks himself?

“I see. Evidently you won,” he said with a smirk.

I recalled the body of my opponent, buried prone in the sand. I’d killed her by mistake, but her death, or mine, was inevitable. Did the fact that her death was an accident absolve me of murder? I thought not. After all, I would have killed her eventually, or died myself.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, it gets easier,” he said, blowing smoke into the air.

“Fighting?”

“Killing people.”

Paul’s words hit me with the force of a horse’s kick.

“When did you become so apathetic?”

Paul inhaled and exhaled again. A small, sardonic smile played at the corner of his lips.

“I suppose a broken heart will do that to you,” he told me.

“What do you mean? Who has broken your heart?”

He turned to face me, dumping the contents of his pipe into the grass and stamping it beneath his boot. He tucked the pipe into his uniform coat and leveled a stare at me.

“You did, little sand devil.”

I winced.

“You know I hate that name. And what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about last night when I watched another man carry you into your bunk. After you agreed to meet me.”

My head swam. I was acutely aware of the headache I’d had last night and the rumbling of my stomach. I felt weak all over, and I’d begun to sweat.

“I— Paul, it isn’t what you think it is.”

Paul laughed.

“It never is, is it? I risked my head for you; did you know that? Do you think a member of the night watch can engage in clandestine meetings with contenders without paying a price?”

I shook my head as tears smarted behind my eyelids. I couldn’t explain why I was crying. Paul and I had shared many moments under the stars, talking about home and our future plans, but I’d never given him reason to expect more, had I? Perhaps Tessie was right. Perhaps I was naïve.

Paul turned and yanked up the hem of his uniform shirt, revealing lash marks across his lower back. I gasped and backed away, my hand over my mouth. They’d whipped him. The cuts were numerous and deep, scabbed and healing. The raised edges were red and inflamed, and dried blood stuck to his shirt.

“Oh, Paul,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid our little visits have come to an end. Whatever your goal was, little sand worker, I’m afraid you’ll have to achieve it on your own. I’ve nothing useful to give you.”

“Paul— This wasn’t what I wanted! I never—”

“What did you want, then, Ash!?”

The tears rolled lazily down my cheeks, leaving tracks of moisture in their wake.

“I care for you. I always have.”

“And the other man? The one who carried you to your bedroll? Did you care for him, too?”

The bell rang in the chapel, signaling the change of the guards’ rotation. Paul would go back to his barracks and sleep, and I would report back to the pits to fight another day. This could be my last chance to apologize, I realized. Paul scoffed and turned to go, and I ran toward him, throwing my arms around his waist. He winced and I apologized hastily, backing off as I remembered the injuries on his back.

“Forgive me,” I begged him. “I know you have to go, and so do I. But if you’ll meet me here tonight, I promise I will explain everything.”

Paul considered me for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.

“Thank you,” I breathed. Paul left without another word, and I only hoped I lived long enough to keep my word.

_#_

The Emperor sat on his dais, flanked by guards, just as he had the previous day. The fire breather paced, his eyes fixated on me like a prowling lion. My skin crawled under his gaze, but I focused on the crowd assembled in their seats, waiting expectantly. This time the guards had brought me out first, and the announcer rattled off a few details regarding today’s matches. A dozen of us would compete, and six would leave. With two days left until the final match, tension had mounted to a palpable cloud of anxiety.

The doors opened with a loud groan, and a tall young man emerged, his silhouette bathed in shadows. As he stepped into the sunlight, I gasped involuntarily. His skin was red and scarred- looking, his eyes deep pits of black. His jet-black hair was cropped short and his muscled arms were tattooed in ebony ink. The crowd cheered as he took his place across from me. I gulped, trying to discern what his abilities were. I’d learned from previous matches that it was better to strike hard and fast and ask questions later. The pits had no room for mercy.

The announcer shouted and the crowd roared as the match commenced. Without hesitation, I drew the sand upward and swept it over my opponent, attempting to smother him. He crouched low and sent three fireballs to meet it, and the flames collided with the sand, sending an explosion upward and away from him. He spun and shot two more fireballs at me, and I dove, barely missing them both. The last one had grazed my leg, singing the exposed flesh there, and I cried out and scrambled backward in a futile attempt to escape the burn. He smiled malevolently, his solid form towering over me like an executioner’s blade. I held my breath and sank beneath the sand, just as I had during the last fight. The crowd shouted and berated me from their seats, but I ignored them all as I sank deeper into the earth.

Just as I had before, I pushed the dirt away, leaving a space for the trapped air. Contenders weren’t allowed to watch the fights, but there’d been rumors of spectators passing information along to their favorite contenders. I couldn’t afford to continue using the same tricks; I had to formulate a new plan, something unexpected. Concentrating, I listened for the muted footsteps of my opponent above me. He was stomping the dirt, trying to discern where I lay hidden beneath his feet. I could hear the fire raging above me as he unleashed his fury on the sand. The heat nearly caused me to cry out as I lay pinned underneath it.

The sand began to circulate, swallowing his legs like quicksand. He growled and fought against it, but that only expedited the process, and soon he was waist deep in it. I could feel him from where I lay hidden, and I burst through the surface, bringing a wave of sand with me. I sent it barreling toward him, and he lashed out with fire, stopping its progress. I spun and sank back into the soil, springing back up behind him. The crowd cheered as we continued on this way, him sending fire and me using the sand to change position. He was fast, too fast; it reminded me of William and his speed the night before. I knew this was Ian’s killer.

His fingers glowed red, like super-heated metal. He waited, waist-deep in the sand pit, as I struggled to catch my breath. I was covered in sand, coughing it up and brushing it from my eyes. I needed to survive this and return home to my brother. I needed to apologize to Paul and tell William how I felt. There was too much left to do to die now. The spectators had begun to chant for me, many of them standing and leaning over the edge of the colosseum.

“Sand devil! Sand devil!” They urged.

I hated the name, but it gave me an idea.

I ran in a circle, dodging fireball after fireball, feeling their heat graze me as they passed. I called the sand again, sweeping it along behind me in a swift rotation, creating a wicked cyclone. The fire worker shouted obscenities at me as he struggled against the sinking sand pit. Neither of us could see, but I could feel him, as I was connected to the earth. A part of it. Under the cover of the sandstorm, I swept a final wave over the fire worker, pulling the pit underneath him simultaneously. He sank below the earth, leaving nothing but silence and scorched dirt.

The spectators erupted in frenzied celebration, pleased with another defeat. Banshee grinned from his spot behind the Emperor, and the fire breather at his side looked angry. I collapsed onto my knees, exhausted. I’d brought justice to Ian’s killer, and I’d survived another match. In two days, I would either die or return home, but time, I realized, was running out.

_#_

“Well done today,” Tessie said.

I was returning to the bunk after the evening meal. I’d eaten alone, just as I had the previous nights. Tessie had kept to herself, hunched over her plate on the opposite end of the table. The banquet hall was increasingly bare as contenders dwindled in number. The soldiers still took their meals in the hall, but they sat together, ignoring us completely.

“Thanks,” I said, unsure of what else to say. Communicating with Tessie seemed like walking on eggshells these days. I almost laughed at my own dramatic introspection—these days. Though we’d only been in Tristan a short while, it felt like an eternity.

“I— I’m sorry about the other day,” she began. “I suppose my nerves are on edge. First with Ian’s death . . .’

“I found his killer,” I told her.

We’d stopped in the courtyard in front of the chapel doors. The chapel itself stood empty, save for a few attendants who managed the candle and the offerings there.

“Who is it!?”

“It was my opponent in the pits today. A fire worker.” I told her.

Though I was certain he’d deserved it, all I felt was guilt. I was no better than a murderer, killing my own people for personal gain. I felt like my time in the Emperor’s city changed me, making me someone I didn’t particularly like. Then again, people were no different than animals when it came down to our survival. The morals and ethics that distinguished the human kingdom from the animals were of no consequence when you were speaking of life and death.

“Good,” she said finally. “He deserved it.”

She left without another word, and I stared off into the trees, feeling sick to my stomach. I’d never told her the murderer was a man.

_#_

Paul waited where he always did, smoke billowing from his pipe under the moonlight. I stopped and stared for a moment, taking in his tall, lean body and his broad shoulders. It was true that he was handsome and held an honored position within His Majesty’s guard. Paul was the sort of man my father would have wanted me to marry, if he’d lived long enough. If only I’d seen it sooner, before I’d hurt his feelings. I could only imagine the conclusions he’d drawn; it was time to set the record straight.

“Thank you for coming,” I said.

He didn’t turn to face me. Tilting his head back, he blew another puff of sweet smoke into the moonlight. The crickets chirped nearby, obscured by shrubbery. The stars were bright and clear in the deep sky, the air cool and still. I’d always enjoyed the night best; it was peaceful and quiet. Nighttime was when the world removed its mask, revealing its true beauty, unobscured by mankind and its treachery. Nighttime was when I could really breathe.

“This is my post,” he said.

“Would you like me to go?”

Paul faced me this time, his hard features soft under the moon’s glow. His eyes were deep and captivating, his lips soft as grass. How had I never noticed it?

“You said you’d explain,” he said.

I took a deep breath and sat cross-legged in the grass, enjoying the cool of it. The burns on my legs still smarted, and I never wanted to see the inside of the medical wing again. I told Paul everything about the previous night and the ones before it. I explained about Ian’s death and the justice I’d brought to his killer today. I told him of my visit to the docks and our rescue of the captives. I explained who William was, and how we’d met on the road to Tristan. When I’d finished, Paul stared up at the night sky, lost to his thoughts.

“So, you suspect Tessie is in trouble,” he confirmed.

I closed my eyes.

“Yes.”

“And who do you suppose William is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why has he followed you to Tristan, pretending to search for someone only to abandon the search later and join the Trials? Who is he truly, Ash? And what does he want from you?”

Admittedly, I’d avoided those questions. I’d suspected his story wasn’t an honest one, at least in part, but I’d been satisfied to have a traveling companion, and then a familiar face on the training grounds. If I was honest with myself, I suspected William harbored deeper feelings for me than simple friendship. I remembered the way he’d come to my rescue in the tavern, after I’d thought he’d abandoned me there. I remembered the scent of his skin and the feel of his heartbeat through his shirt. The way his arms cradled me like I was made of porcelain. Even Mayven hadn’t protected me so fiercely.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

Paul studied me in the dark. Could he hear my heart beating? Did he smell the lies I told him? Did it matter?

“I don’t know what your friend Tessie is involved in,” he said, “but I think she was right—you should be cautious about who you let into your heart, Ash. That’s where the most important battles are won,” he told me.

I nodded mutely. Paul moved close to me, his skin brushing against mine. I knew we needed to be careful; the night watchmen could catch us, and so could the other contenders. Paul was risking a great deal meeting me, especially after he’d been punished already. How selfish I’d been, asking him to return a second time. I opened my mouth to apologize, and he pulled me toward him, smashing his lips against mine. His strong hands traveled to my hair, and he wove his fingers through it, tugging slightly. My heart fluttered and my stomach flipped. Paul’s kiss felt different than William’s had. Where William’s had been tender and passionate, Paul’s was strong and assertive—possessive, even. After a lifetime of feeling unwanted, it was nice to be desired. I wrapped my arms around his neck, stretching up to my toes. Paul tipped my chin up and crushed me to him as he kissed me with a renewed fervor.

Paul disengaged from me, smoothing my disheveled hair away from my face. He leaned in for a second kiss, and then a third, and my head swam. As we pulled away from each other for the last time, I glimpsed William’s back as he retreated around the corner, his head hung low.

The next time Paul pressed his lips to mine, I felt the warmth leave my body. The fervor I’d felt earlier had been replaced by a repulsion I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t repulsed by Paul himself; I was repulsed by me. I promised Paul numbly that I’d return the following night. I walked back to my bedroll in a daze, overwhelmed by the events of the day. Ever since Roweena had made it clear she hated me, I’d slept with one eye open. Then Ian turned up dead—murdered, and Tessie and I vowed to find his killer. Only Tessie distanced herself immediately after, only to cleave to the repulsive Banshee, who gave new meaning to the word malice.

Now I’d managed to ruin the only remaining relationships I’d had, through treachery and dishonesty. I climbed into my bedroll and tucked the threadbare blankets around my shivering body. I couldn’t seem to get warm. In truth, I hadn’t planned on caring about anyone in Tristan. I’d come to spare my brother with the added hope of proving myself to our mother. Instead, I’d gained and lost a few friends and murdered two people. When I returned home in three days—if I returned home—would I even recognize myself? Would my family embrace me, thankful of my return, or would they reject me, knowing I’d killed innocents to spare myself? I cried silently in my bedroll that night, ignoring the ache in my chest. I was battered inside and out, and when dawn came, there would be more to follow.