Mirage (28 page)

“He knows that any Shining Moon would attack him instantly,” Dash said. “Khan Arasen and Dantai would kill him where he stood, regardless of the consequences.”

“Then it’s good that he didn’t come,” Aluna said. “If he’s allied with Karl Strand and he got killed, things might get even more messy.”

“What about the Path of Sand?” Hoku said to Dash. “How did you and the Serpenti do at the skill tests?”

Calli answered first. “It wasn’t fair! They wouldn’t let him ride Sandwolf, and they raised all the targets.”

“They wanted him to fail,” Aluna said.

“It would have been difficult to do any worse,” Dash said. “I did not think my own kind would hate me so much. Even more than they hate all of you. Even more than they hate the Serpenti.”

“They can make excuses if they lose to us,” Aluna said. “They could never forgive themselves if they lost to —”

“An
aldagha
,” Dash said.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Aluna said. “You know I don’t think of you like that. None of us do.”

“I know,” Dash said with a sigh.

Nathif coiled his tail in a tight circle and sat. At least Hoku assumed that’s what he was doing. He looked like the top half of a Human stuck into a pile of snakes. “Do you think the Equians get their arrogance from their horse blood, or does the sun just fry the modesty out of their brains?” Nathif asked. “They are a remarkably condescending race for people who eat cactus on a regular basis.”

Calli chuckled. “And who can’t even brush their own tails.”

Hoku could tell they were trying to cheer up Dash, but it didn’t work. Dash stood abruptly. “I think I will walk. I have an idea about where I might purchase a falcon.”

“I’ll come with you,” Aluna said, and started to pull herself up using the tent pole.

“No,” Dash said. “You need your rest for tomorrow. Drink water and sleep. I will visit Tal on my way back and see if she needs anything.”

Aluna looked like she might argue, but Hoku could see the fatigue in the slump of her shoulders and the dark smudges under her eyes. She eventually nodded and slid back down to the rug.

“I thought Shining Moon refused to sell you a bird,” Hoku said. “Did the khan change his mind?”

“No, Shining Moon wants to win and knows that I will hurt their chances,” Dash said. The edges of his mouth quirked up. “So I found a herd who wants Shining Moon to lose.”

T
HE RING ASSIGNMENTS
were supposed to be random, but somehow Aluna and all her allies were thrown into the same one. High Khan Onggur and Scorch wanted them to defeat one another. Strategically it was smart. Mentally it was devastating.

Aluna’s first match of the day was against Dantai.

She checked her saddle. Her knees felt securely wrapped around the hook in the front, and the side strap kept her ankles tight against Tal’s flank.

“We’re ready for this,” Aluna said to Tal. “We can take him.”

Tal huffed and nodded. Aluna could feel the horse’s muscles bunching. She wanted to fight. Her whole life, she’d been an outsider, living on the fringe of the Shining Moon camp. Aluna had felt the same way about herself, and her role in the City of Shifting Tides. But here, together, they were something strong. Something meaningful. Right now, they both mattered.

Aluna turned her attention to Dantai. His sleek braids had been tucked under his head wrap, but he still looked too familiar, too much like a friend. She’d sparred with friends most of her life, but she’d never fought them for real. If she saw an opening, would she take it? Even the tiniest hesitation could cost her everything.

She thought about Dantai calling Dash an
aldagha
. She remembered what he’d said about Tal, about her being damaged mentally.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “We will definitely take him.”

The fight master motioned them to the center of the ring. Tal cantered into place, her nostrils wide, her tail swishing.

Aluna bowed to Dantai, and for the first time, Tal bowed as well. Dantai looked surprised. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be for the first time.

They stepped back, and the match started.

Dantai charged immediately and thrust his spear at Aluna’s chest. She blocked it easily with her own weapon as Tal sidestepped. Tal rushed forward, past Dantai, while he was recovering from his charge. Aluna managed to land a blow across his Human back with the wooden shaft of her spear.

They went back and forth like that for a few minutes. One of them attacked; the other blocked or dodged and counterattacked. Dantai wasn’t as foolish as her opponents on the first day had been. He’d seen Aluna fight. He wasn’t underestimating her; he was looking for an opening. A weakness. Same as she was doing to him.

Then Aluna thrust her spear, and Dantai dodged. She tried to pull it back before he could grab it, but she was too slow. He wrapped a strong hand around it, just under the spear point, and yanked.

Aluna let it go. He was too strong, and she’d lose the flesh on her palms if she resisted. She watched the spear clatter to the ground meters away.

Tal bolted forward, giving Aluna time to recoup. Aluna twisted her wrists, dropping her talon weapons into place. With a flick of her thumbs, she popped open the silver capsules and swung the thin chain whips out of their sheaths. She spun them in arcs on either side of her body.

Dantai had been ready to charge again, thinking her helpless. Now he stumbled back.

The talons whirred at her side — so fast that they were silver blurs in the air.

“Go,” Aluna said.

Tal raced forward. Aluna directed a talon at Dantai’s front foreleg, hoping to wrap it and yank him off balance. She got Dantai’s spear instead. She pulled, knowing the angle favored her.

Dantai gripped his spear with both hands, refusing to let it go, as she had done. Aluna pulled hard on the line, and his arms jerked forward.

An opening
.

She let loose with her other talon. The chain whip struck home, wrapping itself around Dantai’s front leg. If he’d been Human, she could have snapped the bone right then. But Equian legs were fortified, stronger than steel. Their ancients had seen to that.

“Back,” she said to Tal.

Tal dug her hooves into the crusty white earth and started to walk backward. Aluna used Tal’s leverage to increase her own. When she pulled on the chain around Dantai’s leg, he went down.

Dimly she heard the crowd around the arena gasp.

But the fight wasn’t over yet. Dantai finally dropped his useless spear, and Aluna dropped the talon still wrapped around it. Dantai struggled to stand and pulled his sword from its sheath on his back.

Aluna and Tal never let him get up. Tal charged, throwing the full weight of her body against Dantai’s shoulder. He slammed down against the ground. Tal reared as if she would crush his head beneath her hooves. The crowd gasped again. Tal landed centimeters from Dantai’s head, on his sword arm instead. He screamed.

This time, Aluna heard the crunch of bones.

Dantai looked up at her, his face locked in a grimace, hate pouring from his eyes.

“Do you yield?” she asked quietly.

Dantai spat at Tal’s hooves. “I do.”

Aluna and Tal danced away while the fight master cantered in to officially end the bout. Aluna waited until Dantai had been helped out of the ring before retrieving her talons and her spear.

“Well done,” she whispered to Tal. “We’ve made no friends among the Shining Moon, but we did what we had to do.”

Tal didn’t need any encouragement. Aluna could tell from the way she pranced that this was probably the happiest day of her life.

Her next few opponents fell quickly, incapable of defending against Aluna’s talons and unpredictable style. Aluna kept them guessing, attacking a different way each time, using a different rhythm, getting Tal to mix up her speed and approach angles. Unfortunately she had to fight Subira. Subira might best her in the cappo’ra ring, but aided by Tal, Aluna claimed the victory.

She watched the other matches with growing apprehension. Khan Arasen, easily in his late forties or early fifties, dispatched his opponents even faster than she did. His arms and back were strong, his weight always balanced, his breathing never labored. He took out Master Sefu in less than ten minutes. Arasen clearly wanted this win almost as much as she did.

Aluna heard someone approaching and turned to find Tayan standing behind her.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” Aluna said.

Tayan smiled wryly and fingered the bloodline amulet around her neck. “They make exceptions for khans.”

“Come up and watch with me, then,” Aluna said. Tal moved over to make room. “Your father is amazing.”

“I am pleased you think so,” Tayan said.

Aluna frowned.

“We founded Flame Heart to protect the Serpenti and because we did not want the fate of the desert to rest in the hands of others,” Tayan said. “We were worried that Weaver Sokhor had weakened my father and that he would have no chance to defeat High Khan Onggur in the Path of Sun.”

“I need to keep my focus,” Aluna said. “Whatever you’re trying to say, it needs to wait until after the day is over.”

Tal fidgeted beneath her, sensing her unease.

“No, I must say it now,” Tayan said. She turned her head and looked into Aluna’s eyes. “You and I have not been good friends, Aluna. We are both opinionated and horse-headed, and we have rarely wanted the same things. But despite that, we are excellent allies. You saved my life, and without me, there would be no Flame Heart.”

“You want a favor? Is that what this is about?” Aluna could feel waves of anger begin to wash over her.

“You may call it a favor, if you wish, or you may call it an order from your khan.”

Aluna felt heat rush to her cheeks. Her fists closed around her talons, and she squeezed. “What is this
order
, my khan?”

Tayan seemed unfazed by Aluna’s tone. Her own voice remained steady. “My father will win his matches, as you have won yours. The two of you will fight for the honor of the last battle tomorrow.” She paused. “You will let my father win.”

Aluna’s mouth fell open. She felt as if she’d been struck, smacked in the face by someone she’d been foolish enough to trust.

“Is this honor?” she asked quietly.

Tayan nodded. “My father has the only chance of defeating Onggur and saving the desert from Scorch and Karl Strand. You are skilled, Aluna, but not nearly as strong. And the desert needs an Equian to win, not an . . .”

“Aldagha,”
Aluna said.

The word washed away her anger and filled her with something darker. She looked down at her legs. At her saddle. She wasn’t Human, she wasn’t Equian, and she wasn’t even a real Kampii.
Aldagha
fit her better than it fit Dash.

“You are a warrior, Aluna, and I am proud to know you,” Tayan said. “But you are not destined to save the desert.”

Tal whinnied. Aluna stared at the back of Tal’s head, her mind a whirlpool.

“Will you do as I ask?”

Aluna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she felt calm waters surround her once again. “I’ve been in the desert for months, and all I’ve ever heard you Equians talk about is honor. You say it drives your culture and gives meaning to your lives. But you know what? The person who actually taught me what it
means
— the person who actually showed me by example — isn’t even considered a real Equian by your people. You want to really understand honor? Then spend a little time with Dash. No, spend a lot of time with him. Because you, Tayan, don’t know the meaning of the word. The answer is no.”

Tal whinnied. Aluna spat on the ground near Tayan’s hooves. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to teach a khan and his daughter a lesson.”

Tal weaved through the crowd, away from Tayan. Aluna didn’t look back. She wrapped the anger around herself like a blanket. But she was more upset with herself than she was with Tayan. She’d allowed Tayan to make her feel bad about herself. For a moment, she’d actually believed what Tayan was saying.

And nobody, not even the khan of Flame Heart, got to do that to her.

When the fight master announced her match with Khan Arasen, Aluna and Tal were ready. The battle lasted past the fall of the sun. A sword danced through the air; talons spun in shimmering arcs; spears blocked and poked and slashed. And finally, in the faint darkness of dusk, Khan Arasen yielded.

The day was hers.