Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 (4 page)

BOOK: Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3
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She moved silently, staying deep enough in the forest not to attract attention until she was as close to Calder’s meeting as possible. She crouched beside a thick, thorny bramble bush, focusing intently. She couldn’t see them anymore, she was too close to stand without being betrayed by the light of the torches, but she could hear them just fine.

“We found the third piece has been returned to the Core, but the Twins say the second two are in the desert,” Kasin reported. The sound of a finger striking parchment echoed. They were looking at a map.

Calder’s voice was low and thoughtful as he plotted his next move. “There aren’t a lot of villages in the desert.”

“Initial scryings have placed one artifact buried in the sand and the other in the Great Market.”

“We’ll need a larger party if we’re going to take on the Market.”

“We may not be able to take it at all. It will require more subtlety than our usual ventures.”

“Subtlety? From these brutes? By the time we get to the Market they’ll be frothing at the mouth for a raid.”

“We’ve been given clearance to pillage as we please. The Twins believe the random violence will disguise our true purpose.”

Calder’s voice was thick with pleasure. Rox didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling. “Good. Then we head south. Perhaps we’ll run across a merchant’s caravan on our way into the desert.”

Their voices faded as the meeting broke and they returned to the main camp. Rox waited for them to go silent and settle into their beds before standing. She drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the destruction and mayhem to come. She’d always known the Twins had a purpose for sending out the Circle, but she’d assumed it was to amass wealth, maybe sow fear. She had never involved herself in their raids, staying behind as they’d pillaged and plundered a half dozen villages, leaving behind only corpses and ash. She didn’t realize they’d been searching for something.

The mention of artifacts was intriguing. She wondered exactly what they were, if she’d seen one of the artifacts in the loot bags constantly coming in and out of camp. Still, she decided not to dwell on the thought. Whatever the Twins were looking for was bound to be dangerous. She would do well not to research them any further. Her curiosity didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be involved in their plans. She wanted to finish the mission and earn her wage. The moment she was paid, she could break ties with them forever.

She circled back around in case any of the men were awake enough to be suspicious of where she re-entered camp. She slid onto her sleeping mat, pulling a light-weight wool blanket over her shoulders. She was small enough that the cheap lap-blanket she’d been given when she joined the party nearly covered her entire body. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Still, resting in silence was a luxury she never took for granted.

Fisk slinked out of her jacket, curling in the crook of her arm and burying his head beneath her sleeve before promptly falling asleep. Rox stroked the top of his head with one finger, marveling again that despite everything they’d been through, he still trusted her so much.

“You’re a fool,” she whispered affectionately, laying a gentle kiss on his downy head and saying a silent prayer to the Mother for safety. “But it will all be over soon. One way or another.”

Chapter Four

Wind and sand howled past the city gates, engulfing Oasis in it torrential wake. Jacquin crawled across the desert floor, her mouth and lungs filling with sand, the tiny grains drowning her as if she’d been plunged underwater. Her nails clawed at the shifting desert, searching desperately for something to hold onto as the storm ripped at her hair and skin, slicing her open then filling her bloody cuts with more sand.

Her hands reached out wildly, hoping to find a sanctuary, and found the front step of her wagon. She grabbed it with trembling hands and pulled herself up, flinging the tattered, weatherbeaten wooden door to her home open as she slid inside, closing the door behind herself.

She lay collapsed on the carpeted floor, gasping and coughing, trying to purge her lungs of the deadly sand. Finally, fresh air flooded her mouth and she breathed deep, closing her eyes as she clung to life. Oasis had never been hit like this before. She worried about Khalisa, about the rest of her Tribe. The storm had descended so suddenly: had they made it to safety? She imagined her sister, swallowed forever in the depths of the desert and trembled. She needed to find her, but she knew if she opened her front door she’d destroy her only safe haven.

She heard a scuffle across her carpet and felt silken fur brush her hand. When she didn’t move, a quick, sharp sting, a bite, on her arm demanded her attention. She opened her eyes to meet gold eyes full of concern. Her brows knit in confusion. When had she acquired a waterferret? The creatures rarely journeyed beyond the coastal towns in the south.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and shouted with surprise as she realized she wasn’t alone. A figure cloaked in silver, hidden from head to mid-calf sat on the far side of the cabin, a sword with a demonic red gem in the hilt resting blade-down before it. The figure turned to her, piercing eyes examining her from the depths of the hood. It spoke in a whisper, in a language Jacquin couldn’t understand. Its voice was inhuman, distorted by magic and the pounding of the storm against the walls of the wagon.

“Who are you?” Jacquin’s voice trembled as she realized she had to be dreaming. Her silver-cloaked guardian only appeared in visions and dreams, and the storm was too severe, too symbolic to be a vision of what was to come.

The figure sat in silence, one gauntlet-clad hand stroking the red jewel. In an instant, another figure, mirror-image of the first, appeared on the opposite side of the wagon. The waterferret let out a shrill cry of alarm and disappeared from existence, abandoning Jacquin to the strangers. Jacquin shrank back against the door to her wagon, the energy in the room growing heavy and malevolent. She knew in an instant that these two were not her protector. They were false copies.

They stood as one, crossing slowly toward her in perfect unison. The storm howled around her, raking at the wagon like a beast, but she suddenly found she trusted the chaotic, unbiased wrath of the storm over these malevolent creatures.

She reached up and threw the door open, instantly engulfing the wagon in sand, allowing herself to be swept outside. She was lost in the wind, gravity and physics disappearing into the science of the dream world. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Everything was pain and confusion,

Finally, she relaxed, giving herself up to the storm. Like a rag doll tossed about in a heavy current, she flew, twisted and bent in time with the tempest. Just as she was about to loose consciousness, to release the last bits of her being to the ether, she felt strong hands grab her around the waist, pulling her back to her feet. The sand continued to howl, but for a moment everything directly around her was still. She was standing in the eye of the storm, no more sand in her throat, no grainy sensation in her hair of clothes. She’d been washed clean. Purified.

She looked up to see a third figure, still clad in silver, but radiating warmth. She reached up, hear hand disappearing into the darkness of the hood, her fingers touching smooth skin, a narrow jaw. The ferret rested on the figure’s shoulder.

Jacquin pressed tight against the silver traveler, still trembling from the storm and the false copies I her wagon. “My protector.”

Jacquin woke with a gasp, instantly surrounded by the dark safety of her wagon. The night was still and peaceful outside. A thin fog of incense, nearly dissipated out the small nooks and crannies in her wagon, tinted the air with jasmine and cinnamon. Her skin was damp with sweat and tears. She’d been crying in her sleep.

Memories returned slowly. She’d spent the night trying to meditate, to find answers in the depths of her visions, but nothing had come. The magic must have settled around her while she slept, weaving into her dreams.

Come.

The single word echoed in her mind, seeming to fill her room and vibrate out into the night air. She suddenly felt an overwhelming pull, spreading from her stomach to her chest, rooting in her heart and tugging her toward the front door. She crawled out from under her woven quilt, three different silk pillows scattering across the floor with the movement.

She pulled a silk sari around her waist, tossing the loose end over her shoulder to quickly cover her bare skin. She hesitated before the door, her hand on the latch, vivid memories of the storm haunting her mind.

Come.

She turned the latch and stepped out into the night.

Come… Come… Come…

The whisper became more urgent, more constant, the sound seeming to ring from her mind up to the stars. Jacquin knew even as she walked that there was something odd, inhuman about the call, but she couldn’t resist it. Was she still dreaming? In a vision? She couldn’t tell anymore.

Her bare feet seemed to float across the sand as she journeyed beyond the market, past the dance circle to the wall of Oasis. Still the call beckoned, urging her beyond the town’s border.

She raced toward her sanctuary, to the pile of broken wagons and carts and leapt from axle to wheel to trembling roof until she could jump up and grab the edge of the city wall. Her fingers scrambled, searching for purchase, and finally she pulled herself up to the edge.

She stared out at the desert, stretching endlessly into the night. Rolling dunes of sand dotted with the occasional cactus and scrub brush. Oasis was named for the natural oasis in the center of the town proper, but just outside the walls any sign of water or shade disappeared. The only inhabitants able to survive in the harsh ocean of sand were vicious reptiles and sand worms.

Jacquin walked along the wall, traveling along its narrow ledge like a tight-rope walker until she reached a section where a camel-trader’s barn met the wall. She scampered down the edge of the barn, her feet hitting the ground with a heavy thump. The camels in the barn rustled at the noise but quickly settled back down to sleep.

Jacquin raced out into the night, the pull in her chest warming and growing stronger with each step until it suddenly dissipated. She paused at the sudden loss, coming to her senses as the chill of the night sank into her skin and she realized where she was. She rarely traveled beyond the walls of Oasis, not out of fear, but common sense. All it would take was a misplaced foot and she could be bitten by a poisonous snake or sink into a sand-worm’s tunnel, disappearing forever. And that was without the threat of highwaymen or drunken merchants.

As she turned to return home, she heard a shift in the sand. She whipped around and froze, her heart stopping in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.

A small, lithe creature covered head to toe in cat-like fur, her tabby-orange ears folded back against the top of her head approached. The creature sniffed the air, a green-glass curved sword glistening on her belt. A changling. The call had been a trap.

Jacquin had heard stories of changlings, vicious, primal creatures from the north once thought extinct. The history books were full of wars with the changlings, including the battle believed to have wiped the species from Aggar, but merchants swore they had returned, brought stories of changling tribes traveling south, desecrating villages and attacking travelers unfortunate enough to find themselves in their path. What were they doing in Oasis? Her recent visions flooded her mind, visions of people dying, slashed and shot with glass weapons. A changling attack.

Jacquin’s hand twitched, wanting to reach for the knife she often wore at her hip but she hadn’t brought it with her. She had nothing but the sari. She racked her mind, trying to remember how to escape a changling, nervous that any movement would be seen as an invitation to attack. Changlings were conniving, vicious and impossibly fast. She’d never escape.

She breathed deep, clenching her fists at her sides. So this is how she’d go, slashed and gored by a feral changling in the desert. Would anyone find her body? Know what happened to her? Would there be any warning before the changlings attacked Oasis in force?

She’d always thought she’d see her own death before it happened.

The changling prowled forward, her claws catching the moonlight until they glowed. Her hands were the perfect blend of cat and human, with long, slender fingers and wicked, curved claws. She wore a leather loincloth and little else, a belt at her waist holding her sword and a water skin. She seemed to be traveling alone. A scout.

The creature moved until she stood directly before Jacquin. She was nearly two heads shorter, but she radiated lethal danger. The changling looked up into her eyes, gold irises meeting Jacquin’s brown. Jacquin licked her lips, her mouth dry with fear. “Please. Don’t.”

The changling reached out, but instead of attacking, she touched Jacquin’s waist, laying a hand on the exposed skin near her navel.

Jacquin was instantly submerged in a pool of vision and memory, the images spinning and spiraling together in an unintelligible blend. She could smell pine and snow, blood and sulfur. Her body radiated both heat and cold, her mouth coated with the taste of blood. She felt split between too many bodies, felt claws extend and retract in her hands, the feel of cold glass, both at her hip and thrust through her chest. She could hear people scream, the cries both human and pack, their unbearable cries threatening to split her head from the inside out. A fiery, opaline glow reflected off every surface, casting the visions of murder and mutilation with a crystalline haze.

To Jacquin’s surprise, the creature immediately turned and ran away, fleeing gracefully back into darkness. Jacquin let out a heavy breath of disbelief, her body still paralyzed from the encounter. She’d never heard of a changling letting a human live. Still, she wouldn’t question it.

She turned and ran back for Oasis, moving as swiftly as possible, adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, urging her forward until she leapt up the camels’ barn, over the wall and tumbled to the desert floor on the other side.

She landed hard, collapsing to the ground like she had in her dream. She gasped into the sand, her heart speeding in her chest and her breath coming in rapid shots as she came down from her near-death experience. Changlings were near Oasis. They never traveled alone. Chances were there was an entire party staking out the city.

She had to find her sister.

Jacquin pounded on Khalisa’s door, hoping her sister had returned home for the night. She heard a scuffle within and Khalisa answered, her hair in disarray, tangled around her shoulders. Her weary eyes brightened with concern as she led Jacquin into her wagon.

Khalisa’s wagon was larger than Jacquin’s and less functional, a thick scent of spices and wax from candles and soap infused in every panel. While Jacquin’s home had once traveled the desert when the Tribe was more nomadic, Khalisa’s home had been built in Oasis and would never leave. Guests expected nomadic wagons when they visited the Tribe. They didn’t realize more than half of them were as immovable and rooted to the earth as the buildings in the town proper.

Khalisa held Jacquin’s shoulders, searching her face for the source of her obvious alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“A changling. I saw a changling.”

Khalisa’s charcoal brow lifted in confusion. “Jacquin, you’re not making any sense. Did you have a vision?”

Jacquin shook her head, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to be more clear. “No. It was real. A changling outside the walls.”

Khalisa paled. “Could you have been seeing something else? A different creature?”

Jacquin shook her head, her hair trembling along the lines of her shoulders. “It walked right up to me!”

Khalisa gripped Jacquin’s shoulders tighter, her full lips forming a hard, straight line. “You were outside the town walls alone? At night?”

“You have to tell the Council. Alert Oasis guards. Changlings don’t travel alone.”

Khalisa pulled back her hair with a quick twist of her wrists, spinning the ebony mass back into a bun secured with ridged hair sticks. It had always amazed Jacquin the difference a hairstyle could make in her sister. With a few swift movements she went from sultry dancer, impish lover, to one of the Tribe’s most honored council members. The shift from flirt to n’Sappho.

Khalisa pulled a soft, quilted robe over her thin, woven nightgown and rushed out into the night, her long stride assured and self-confident. Jacquin followed close behind, hugging her arms to her chest. Khalisa knocked on a large, blonde-pine wagon in the center of the Tribe’s caravan.

Khalisa’s voice was steady and strong, her face still. “Aalim!”

The door opened and Aalim stepped out onto his front steps. The leader of the Tribe’s council filled the doorway with his tall, well-muscled frame, his dark hair strung with quill feathers and beads falling to the middle of his back.

“Khalisa?”

“A changling has been spotted outside town walls.”

Aalim’s jaw clenched with apprehension, his muscles growing taut as he realized the full implications of Khalisa’s warning. “Are we sure?”

“Jacquin saw it herself.”

Aalim looked Jacquin over apprehensively, one thick eyebrow raised. “Was she in her right mind?”

Jacquin felt her cheeks blush with frustration. “I know the difference between my visions and reality.”

BOOK: Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3
13.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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