Empire of Sand

I spent the morning in a fog. I ate and stretched automatically, without thought or intention. When others spoke to me, I nodded my head, but my brain failed to understand anything they’d told me. I spotted William on the training grounds, dodging an invisible opponent. Though he was swift, he moved more slowly than he had the night he’d rescued me at the tap house. It occurred to me that William was hiding his talent, though I didn’t understand why. Was he ashamed of it? Admittedly, swiftness wasn’t among the more celebrated of abilities, but swifters, though rare in this region, were highly regarded.

“Can we talk?”

William stopped moving and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He’d removed his shirt under the oppressive heat, revealing a lean torso and well-muscled arms. I gulped, uncomfortably aware of the flush in my cheeks. William avoided my gaze, pretending to recover from his exercise.

“I’m afraid I haven’t got the time,” he said. “I’m due in the pits, soon.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted.

I waited for him to say something—anything. But he only paced with his back to me, rotating his arms in gentle, circular motions. Next, he rotated his neck, leaning his head from one side to the other, lunging to stretch his leg muscles. His abdominal muscles flexed with the movement, his golden skin glowing and smooth. Without intending to do it, I’d betrayed William, last night. My confused brain tried to justify it, but there were no excuses left.

“What were we?” I whispered.

William froze.

“I don’t understand your meaning,” he said.

“Yes, you do. What were we, William? Were we friends? Comrades? More?”

William cracked a sardonic grin and continued his stretches, not sparing a single glance in my direction.

“A distraction,” he said acidly.

He faced me for the first time, his shadow towering over me. He seemed taller now. Angrier. The softer side of him was gone, replaced by someone I didn’t recognize. Perhaps he felt the same way about me.

“You mean—”

“I mean, one of us is destined to die, Ash. Sooner or later. Whatever minuscule flirtations you and I entertained; it was nothing more than a means of passing the time. Now I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. As do you,” he said.

His words delivered a blow more powerful and painful than the ones delivered by the pirate’s fists two nights before. I waited, rooted in place and robbed of my breath, hoping he would have mercy on me and retract his words. Instead, he turned his back again and continued his exercise, oblivious to my heartbreak.

I refused to cry. I stumbled back to the training pods, resolving to train alone, but I collapsed under the stone edifice instead and sobbed.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” a kind voice said.

Master Givvens stood over me, his arms lost in the vastness of his black robes. He resembled the man in Cryth, who surely had to have been his father.

“Master Givvens, do you have family in Cryth?’ I asked.

His face fell, and he kneeled to meet my gaze.

“I do. My father lives there.”

I smiled, pulling the last of the coins from my tunic.

“I met him in the city. I liked him very much.”

Master Givvens chuckled and rubbed his head.

“You’re one of few,” he told me. “How is the old man?”

“He misses you.”

_#_

I knew sneaking over to watch the matches was a grave offense. If I were caught, I’d be dismissed immediately. Nonetheless, I needed to see William again, even if just from a distance. The crowd was gathered and greater in number than before. I’d heard the guards saying that the Emperor had never attended so many consecutive matches in the history of the Trials. Some found it peculiar that he attended them regularly, and others considered it an undeserved honor paid to the contenders.

I found his presence demeaning; it was one thing to fight, but it was another to grovel like a performing pig. I begrudged the Emperor his entertainment at my expense, but it was a necessary evil. I reminded myself that if I were to be declared victor, I would have to stomach him on a regular basis.

The crowd erupted in a ruckus as William took his place in the center of the pits. He was still shirtless, his back visible to me from where I hid beneath the spectator’s seating. A pair of sandals blocked my view, and I resisted the urge to shove them aside. The Emperor sat in the dais again, flanked, as usual, by his protective guards. The fire breather peeled an apple, nonchalantly leaning against the wall behind His Highness. The Emperor’s mask was made of metal today, as opposed to the regular black cloth he’d always worn. The significance was lost on me.

I held my breath as a boulder of a man emerged from the doors. He, too, was shirtless, and covered in thick scars. His skin was the tanned color of the slaves, and his eyes were red and murderous. His wide body seemed almost too large for his legs, which were as muscled and strong as his arms. The veins in his biceps stretched like ropes pulled taut over them, and his skin shone with perspiration. His hair was long and scraggly, left to hang loose. The announcer called him a metamorphic. Mayven had described them to me once. They, too, were rare, and not native to this part of the continent. If I recalled correctly, metamorphics were exceptionally strong, and nearly impossible to defeat.

William struck fast. The word to commence had hardly left the announcer’s lips before William barreled toward the beast of a man, rolling beneath his mighty left fist. William swung and missed, and the beast turned and dove for him, stumbling face- first into the dirt. The large man was strong and solid, but he was also clumsy. William surmised this and used it to his advantage. For several minutes the crowd watched, captivated, as William dodged, rolled, and shimmied away from the metamorphic, who tired quickly. Though William’s tactics were wise, I wasn’t sure how he would manage to defeat the other man with no weapon.

As the man bent over to catch his breath, William quickly removed his pants. The crowd erupted into a fit of laughter, and a few of the men shielded their young ladies’ eyes while William disrobed. Clad in nothing but his undergarment, William slid beside the man and tackled his legs, bringing him down in a large heap. The ground reverberated with the impact of the fall. William scrambled up his massive body and wrapped the pants around the monster’s neck and pulled tight.

The crowd murmured, perplexed at this new method of defeat. Presumably, none had resorted to manual strangulation in the pits. The beast choked and turned purple, and William’s face was screwed up with exertion as he continued to pull the cloth tighter. Eventually, the beast stopped moving and fell limp, and the silence of the crowd was replaced with cheers for the unexpected victor. William stood, physically exhausted, and his shoulders sagged. Though they celebrated him, I understood the shame he felt in his moment of victory, a battle won by losing. The announcer congratulated him on his wit and the guards escorted him away. Then the fire breather incinerated the body.

“William!”

I crouched in the shadows of the underbelly of the spectator’s ring. I hissed his name after him again, and he turned and ducked into the darkness where I hid.

“What in gods’ name are you doing here, Ash? Don’t you realize if you’re caught, it means your discharged? Or worse?”

Banshee’s cruel threat still echoed in my head. I wondered if the fire breather would erase me as he had so many others, reducing me to a pile of ash for my transgressions.

“I know, but I had to watch,” I admitted.

He cocked an eyebrow. He was still in nothing but his undergarments, and my eyes traveled unwittingly downward before I cast them away in embarrassment.

“I apologize if my garb offends you,” he said sarcastically. “I seem to recall you nearly disrobing in front of me on the road to Tristan.”

“That was only a game!” I defended.

His face fell, and I realized the moment he’d misunderstood the meaning of my words.

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“William, that’s not what I—”

“Go back to your training pods,” he told me, “before someone sees you.”

He walked away, leaving me alone again.

_#_

The day after father died, mother went to the city. She said nothing to me as she shrugged on her shawl and tied a mourning bonnet over her head. She left quietly in the early morning hours and didn’t return until dusk. She had taken nothing to trade and brought nothing back with her, perplexing me. Mayven only avoided my questions, and hovered over our mother like the dutiful son he was. It wasn’t until days after the incident that I’d noticed her tiny wedding band was gone, the one father had forged for her himself in their early days of courting. I’d searched all over the cabin for it. Mayven discovered me on my hands and knees, feeling along the base of the walls and checking beneath the bureau.

“She sold it,” he told me.

“Sold it!?”

Mayven nodded, a pained expression on his face.

“How could she do such a thing!?” I screeched.

Mother was at the market, trading our extra eggs and some silk dresses she’d owned as a younger woman. Mayven spun to face me, angry tears collecting in his eyes. His face was red with anger, his shoulders rigid.

“How could she not!?” he argued. “Mama is parting with her most precious belongings and the last reminders of Papa to keep our bellies full! Do everyone a favor, Ash, and grow up.”

I thought of him now while I lay crying in my bedroll. The others were all in the dining hall finishing supper, but even as my stomach rumbled, I denied myself the meal. I stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed and heaving, as the terrible realization hit me: I was a murderer before I’d ever come to Tristan. Father’s blood was on my hands. It had been my stubborn spirit that precipitated those events, and my cowardice that left him alone in the field to die.

It was my fault.

What would he say if he could see me now? Would he forgive me for all the bad deeds I’d done? Or would he hate me just as much as Mama did—perhaps as much as Mayven had in those days? For the first time since my arrival in the Emperor’s city, I looked forward to a day in the pits.

_#_

I ate breakfast in the banquet hall. I could sense Tessie’s eyes on me, but I didn’t bother glancing back at her. Today was the last day of the Trials before the final match. Today, the remaining contenders would fight until only two of us remained, and then tomorrow, the last of the fates would be decided. Even the guards ate in silence. The contenders hovered over a single table, now. The eight of us were all that remained of the long list of hopefuls who had traveled to the Emperor’s city days earlier.

“Ash?”

I chewed my oats quietly, ignoring the soft cadence of Tessie’s voice. She waited for my reply and when I gave none, she sighed and walked away.

William hadn’t come to the banquet hall this morning. I wasn’t sure if he was too anxious to eat, or if he’d just been avoiding me. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore, I told myself. By tonight, one or both of us would be dead—a pile of ash left in the palace garden to feed the crops.

I traipsed out into the sunlight, feeling its bright mockery on my back. How ironic that such a glum day would appear as such a cheerful one. I supposed to some, it was. I stared up at the palace turrets, winking and splendid in the glow of the sunrise, imagining the wealthy man who lived and dined within its walls. No doubt he was draped in fine silks and being attended to hand and foot by a number of servants. I wondered if he always kept his face covered, or if that was only done outside the palace walls. The servants were not permitted to leave the grounds—an oath they’d sworn when they’d gone into service of His Highness.

“I missed you last night,” Paul said. I jumped and held my hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow down. Paul was normally in his barracks by now, replaced by the daytime watchman.

“I didn’t hear you come up,” I told him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said.

He pulled a handful of wildflowers from behind his back and held them out for my inspection. I gasped and leaned in, drawing their lovely fragrance in through my nose. I recognized the dainty purple blossoms of lavender from the old woman’s cart in the market. Paul had included them in the bouquet.

“Paul, they’re lovely,” I breathed, accepting the bundle.

He leaned in and kissed me tenderly, and I held still, ignoring the cold of his lips.

“What’s the matter” he asked, sensing my unease.

“Today’s the last day—before the final match, that is,” I explained. “I suppose I’m a bit anxious.”

Paul didn’t seem overly concerned about my plight, a fact I found strange. I remembered the desperate feeling I’d had when William faced down the metamorphic yesterday. It took everything in me not to run out there and fight alongside him. Paul said and did the right things for a man interested in courting, but something was missing, something vital and necessary.

“Come with me, then. I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up!”

He grabbed my hand and towed me into the corridors and away from the training grounds. As we crossed the courtyard and passed through a set of stone doors, left open to greet the Emperor’s guests, I realized we were taking another route toward the city square.

“Where are we going?”

Paul shot me a wide grin.

“You’ll see! It’s only a bit farther.”

The traders had begun opening their stalls and laying out their pelts, garments, and other wares for the final days of trade. After tomorrow, most of them would pack up and travel back to their homes in the outer regions. A few would remain here as residents.

Paul tugged me around a corner, and I shrieked as I nearly stumbled across something sprawled over a fallen cart. I gagged and fought for air as I stared down at the crooked fingers and tattered dress of the old woman with the lavender cart. Her tonics lay shattered and smashed on the ground, her tipped cart split in half. Her crumpled body lay unmoving. Dead.

“Paul!?”

I turned to run, and a strong pair of arms shot out and grabbed me, pinning me in place. Paul’s gentle eyes were now cold and stoic, just as they’d been that night he’d spotted my injuries. Suddenly, I understood that it hadn’t been concern he’d felt, but rage. He’d learned of the incident at the docks with the slavers, and he’d discovered my involvement.

Banshee materialized like a puff of smoke from around the corner, his wicked eyes focused on me.

“Did you think you were going to get away with it, little bird?”

My legs trembled and my heart raced as the cool of his skin neared me. I couldn’t stop staring at the poor old woman on the ground, cast aside like the carcass of a diseased animal.

“I— I don’t understand,” I protested.

“I think you know more than you care to admit,” Paul argued. “I suspected it was you and your friend down at the docks that night. Your story only confirmed my suspicions. Your little display nearly cost us thousands of coin and a very delicate business arrangement,” he growled.

“And the old woman?” I sobbed.

“The old busybody started asking too many questions. It turns out she was the only other person who knew the Emperor was deathly allergic to lavender.” Paul laughed.

Banshee lashed out like a snake, slapping Paul across the face. His smile vanished instantly.

“Shut up, you fool!”

“What does it matter? She won’t live to tell anyone,” he challenged.

“Remind me to replace you when this is over,” Banshee grumbled.

“We both know you can’t do that,” Paul argued. “Father will never allow it.”

Paul tightened his grip on my arms and Banshee’s eyes became ghostly white, his skin translucent, revealing a tiny network of veins beneath. The awful sounds of distant screaming filled my ears, like cries caught on the wind. I gasped and sank swiftly into the sand, knocking Paul to his knees. I’d used this same trick in the pits, and it saved me then. I could only pray to the gods it saved me now.

I wasted no time making my escape. Using my fingers, I pushed the sand ahead of me, maintaining an air pocket to breathe and a small tunnel in which to move. I tunneled through the dirt like a mole, making my way hastily back to the training grounds, or what I expected were the training grounds. With no visual of the world above, I relied on my instinct alone. I could hear the thundering of footsteps above, and I ignored them as I concentrated on my progress.

I felt my way along the stone edges sunk deep into the dirt, forming a foundation for the training buildings. I waited, surfacing enough to hear any sounds of movement. Satisfied I was alone, I emerged, covered in dirt, and ran toward the pits. I had to get to the Emperor.

As I ran, I thought. What did Ian’s death have to do with the old woman? How did the lavender sprigs tie into the whole thing?

She was the only other person who knew the Emperor was deathly allergic to lavender. . . .

Ian had questioned the woman about her tonics, which were concocted from lavender.

The wealthy use them in their baths. . . .

Were Banshee and Paul trying to poison the Emperor? I remembered the cruel look on Banshee’s face the day William challenged his loyalty to the Emperor. Paul had listened to everything I’d told him the night before and taken the information to Banshee, who had decided to kill the old woman and me. Another death on my conscience.

Turning the corner, a pair of arms reached out and captured me, yanking me into the empty chapel. The attendants were gone this time of the morning, and the candles had been snuffed out from the previous night.

“It’s me,” William whispered.

I fought to catch my breath. My lungs burned from sand and exertion, and my legs were unsteady. My heart rabbited in my chest as if it might combust.

“Banshee. It was Banshee,” I sobbed. “And Paul, the night watchman.”

“I know,” he whispered.

I froze. I panicked all over again, as William’s grip on my body tightened.

“You, too?” I gasped, fighting against him.

“No! No! Ash, listen to me!”

I stopped thrashing and held my breath as a pair of footfalls rushed past the chapel doors. It was only a matter of time until they searched the chapel and discovered us.

“We have to get out of here,” I breathed.

“You have to go, Ash. You’ve got to get out of Tristan immediately. It’s not safe for you here.”

I pulled back to meet William’s gaze.

“It isn’t safe for you, either!” I argued. “If you know about their scheme, they’ll come for you, too.”

“I can’t abandon them,” he told me. “I can’t run away again.”

I shook my head, swiping the tears from my eyes. I had so many questions and not enough time to ask them.

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have much time,” he said sadly. “Ash, I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I never intended to meet you on that road or falling in love with you so completely. I can’t explain it all to you now, but if we survive this, I’ll come and find you.”

“No!” I shoved him. Hard. “That isn’t good enough,” I sobbed. “Is that what your kind does? You say some gallant goodbye and then depart and save the day all on your own?”

William gaped at me, a startled laugh escaping his shocked lips.

“You can’t stay. These men will kill you. They killed your friend.”

They’d killed Ian. They’d gotten to Tessie, too. Though I couldn’t be sure of the extent of her involvement, I understood now that she knew more than she’d told me. She’d distanced herself from me, either to protect her own secrets or to protect me.

“They’ll kill Tessie,” I whispered.

“Let me handle them. I’ll get her out, I promise.”

I shook my head before he’d finished speaking.

William cursed under his breath, forgetting we were in a chapel. I asked the gods to excuse his profanity, given the circumstances.

“Why must you be so bloody stubborn?”