Empire of Sand

Dead.

The boy who had told us jokes over the dinner table and intervened for others was gone for good, and not for the reasons one would have expected. Each of us had come to the Trials with the knowledge that death was a real possibility, but none of us imagined we’d be slain in the night.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

Banshee’s narrow gaze fixed upon me, and he pursed his lips, as if he were choosing whether to share the news.

“Poor Ian wandered the city alone at night. His body was recovered this morning, lying in the middle of the street. It appears he was stabbed to death. The city guards are assuming the culprits were thieves.”

Tessie shook her head in disbelief. The rest of us were struck dumb. How could this happen? Ian was among the more intelligent, mild-mannered young men in our group. He would have had no reason to go wandering the city at night, especially in secret. And his powers alone could have fended off thieves. The story seemed implausible.

“I’d like to see his body,” Tessie said hoarsely.

I knew Tessie was just as suspicious as I was.

Banshee cocked an eyebrow.

“The boy’s remains will be sent to his family.”

“I’d like to see his body,” she insisted. “I’d like to say a traditional prayer for his soul,” she added.

Banshee’s lip turned up in a snarl. While many of the outlying regions worshipped one god, the western portion of His Majesty’s empire worshipped several, or none at all.

“Very well, then. I’ll make the arrangements. Come to the medical hall after nightfall. As for the rest of you—prepare yourselves. Tomorrow spectators will be in audience.”

“And His Majesty?” Roweena asked.

“If he wishes.”

Banshee didn’t elaborate as he swept out of our barracks.

What was Ian doing wandering the city alone? Tessie reached out and gripped my arm, fixing me with her troubled gaze.

“I don’t think Ian was killed by thieves,” she told me.

“I don’t, either.”

_#_

The Phoenix from the other group was one of my most formidable adversaries so far. His given name was Derrick, but he could shift into a bird that spit fire within the time it took to bat an eye. He was also ruthless, and given his ability to fly, my sand tricks were useless.

I dodged his blast of fire, narrowly missing it. I pulled the sand over myself like a thick blanket, squelching the heat and protecting my tender skin all at once. I was proud of the trick, and if I survived today, I’d show it to Mayven when I returned home.

I held my breath under the thick blanket of sand, knowing the Phoenix awaited me above. I couldn’t stay under its cover for long without suffocating. Although, when faced with the alternative of being burned alive, suffocating was the more attractive option.

Think!

Mayven taught me how to shift sand in different directions. I’d seen him doing it when planting crops in the northern field. He’d done it to turn the soil, preparing it for fresh growth. What took other ranchers days to complete, my brother had done in a matter of hours. Sand shifting was ineffective against my latest rival; I needed something to defend myself against air attacks. The cover of sand was a pleasant discovery, but if I was going to best my opponent, I needed more.

The wind raged overhead, violent gusts blowing in from the north. An idea took shape, and I wondered what my sand could do if coupled with another of nature’s elements—like wind. Springing up from my sand hill like an angry snake, I swept my arms sideways, stirring the sand in a circular pattern as it caught the wind. I laughed as it circulated into a furious cyclone, a combination of sand and wind, and powerful enough to knock my winged enemy off his course.

The Phoenix flapped his wings determinedly, but the cyclone, or sand devil, I thought wryly, overwhelmed him, and he collided with the bronze statue of His Highness, hitting the ground in a heap of feathers. I lowered both my hands, and the dirt granules fell down like raindrops. The others gaped along the sidelines, their disbelieving eyes darting between the Phoenix and me.

“Well done, Ash!” Master Givvens applauded.

Derrick melted into his human form, glaring up at me from his undignified spot on the ground. Two of the guards escorted him out, ignoring the litany of threats he shouted back at me during his departure.

“That was incredible,” Tessie whispered.

I tried not looking smug as I took my place within the ranks of onlookers while two new combatants took their places in the pod.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she finished.

Neither did I.

“My dear Tessie, I’ve found that the threat of impending death inspires the greatest creativity.”

By the end of the matches, the guards had escorted ten more from the Trials. I wondered if those who were dismissed would remain in Tristan and watch the Trials unfold from spectators’ booths. Or perhaps linger hoping to exact retribution.

Perhaps that was how Ian had met his end? Maybe a disgruntles adversary had caught him unawares in the city streets at night? Or lured him to his fate?

I tried thinking back to his previous matches, but the past few days had been a blur of activity. It seemed like every moment spent in the Emperor’s city was about survival. I peered up at the distant palace walls, their pristine ridges glinting in the sunlight. What was His Highness doing now, as the rest of us fought for our lives? Did he know what this exhibition cost us? Did he care? Would I falter when I stepped into the pod during those last matches, and peered up at his face, obscured in black cloth, his armored body flanked by his finest soldiers? His previous protector would watch us from beside the Emperor, choosing for himself who his successor might be.

“Very good show,” William mumbled.

William’s group had completed their match and joined ours in its spectating.

“How did you hurt your eye?” I asked, reaching up to touch the tender bruise under his right eye.

He flinched, and I recoiled. William’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, bringing it up to his lips and planting a tender kiss along my knuckles. I blushed and glanced around us. Had anyone seen our exchange? The last thing I needed was Roweena learning about our relationship and using it to sabotage me.

“I was thrown from a stallion.”

“A stallion? Where in gods’ name did you find one of those?”

“In the pod. My opponent turned into a stallion with a rather hard kick,” he said, rubbing his leg.

I’d never seen William fight in the pod, and I continued to wonder how he won against elementals with nothing but his own two hands. Unless there was something he’d been withholding—a skill, perhaps, he didn’t want me to know about? Tessie’s words still echoed in my head, her reminder not to trust anyone plaguing me in my waking hours. What if this was all a clever tactic to win the Trials? Could it be that William had powers I wasn’t aware of? My stomach sank as I considered the ramifications of this new revelation. Did that mean his was a false romance? A ploy to lower my guard and best me in the pod?

I shook my head vehemently.

They hardly thought of me as the most formidable in our ranks. If William had devised a means of manipulating true competition, he’d made poor by concentrating his efforts on me. Then again, what did I offer him? I wasn’t bad- looking, but I was poor and fatherless, and was betting my life in the Trials. I wasn’t skilled in sand splitting, either. Compared to women like the red-haired viper who accosted Tessie in the square, or even like the golden-haired Roweena, I was what Mayven called a pasture patty, or horse dung. I deflated as I studied him in my peripheral. He watched the two opponents in the pod with singular focus, encouraging the one he’d chosen as his champion. The past few days had been difficult on him, reminding me he’d never explained why he contended in the first place.

Where was this cousin he’d been searching for? Why had he abandoned his search? More importantly, how was he winning his matches with no weapons?

I glanced over at Tessie, whose eyes slid from William to me. Was I imagining the warning in those dark eyes? Did my friend know something I didn’t?