Page 52 of Fateless

I glanced at Raithe and found him watching me, his expression caught between relief and concern. The intensity in his pale blue gaze made my stomach flutter. I forced a grin. “You know, I haven’t had the best luck with giant insects lately. I hope their test isn’t something like ‘tame a wild rock beetle naked.’?”

Raithe blinked, and it might’ve been my imagination, but his cheeks seemed to color slightly. It was hard to tell. “Just make certain you want to do this,” he said, choosing to ignore my previous comment. “The Scarab Clan live in a harsh environment, and many of their people are warriors. This test might be very difficult, Sparrow.”

I nodded. “I think I have to try,” I told him. “I can’t hide from Vahn and the Circle if they’re using magic to find me. And I know Vahn—he won’t stop. The Circle will continue to come after me, which puts the rest of you in danger, too. If Vahn knows where we are, the Deathless King knows, as well. Based on that... I’ll risk whatever this test is to keep us safe.”

From across the room, the d’wevryn bartender caught my eye with a frown. “Oy, are you two nearly done?” he called gruffly.“Contrary to popular belief, we’re not open all night. I’d like to close up sometime before suns rise.”

I glanced at Raithe and smirked. “I think we’re being kicked out.”

“It would appear so,” he agreed, and rose gracefully from his chair. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“I don’t need an escort,” I protested as we left the tavern. “I doubt there are any assassins of the Circle waiting for me in the corridors.”

He raised a brow, which made me instantly regret my statement. If someone like Raithe was after me, they wouldn’t let an ocean of dust stop them from getting to their target. And if they had magic at their disposal, who knew what they were capable of. Maybe therewereassassins on the strider, watching us as we spoke. I suddenly felt a lot safer with the iylvahn at my side.

“Humor me,” Raithe said, and thankfully did not point out the obvious flaws in my logic as we made our way through the halls and back to the guest quarters.

Thankfully, there were no more attacks on me that night, nor on the next two nights. My nightmares were of the standard variety, the kind from which I would wake, sweaty and frightened, as images of Vahn, the Circle, Jeran’s corpse, and the Deathless King faded from my thoughts. I did not wake up somewhere else, about to throw myself overboard or into the turning gears and pistons of the strider. Though on that first morning, I did find Raithe keeping watch at my door when I stepped into the hall.Apparently, he wasn’t about to let me nearly sleepwalk to my death a second time.

Three days after my terrifying encounter with the nightmares of the Deathless King, Halek strode into the tavern, an excited grin stretched across his face.

“We’re almost there,” he said when he reached our table. “You can see Damassi on the horizon now.”

I rose, and together we hurried to the upper deck, where a small crowd had already gathered. Peering over the railing, I squinted against the suns and watched as a dark blot grew larger and larger against the horizon.

Kovass had been a very flat city. It was built atop the desert sands, and except for the king’s palace on the hill, most of the districts were on the same level. Damassi, I saw, had been built at the feet and into the sides of the mountains that bordered the coast. Square stone buildings perched atop ledges and precipices, and one enormous structure sat on a flattened rise in the very center. Roads snaked up through the different layers of the city, and a bustling network of docks sat at the edge of the Dust Sea, with dozens of skiffs and a handful of striders waiting in the harbor.

Behind the city, the jagged peaks of the Stoneshard Mountains rose into the air, looming over everything.

“Ah, Damassi,” Halek said, sounding wistful. “City of temptation and gateway to the Barren Steppes, though most people never get that far.” He gave me a sideways look and a grin. “Youwere with the Thieves Guild. You know all those illegal goods you could get for a price in Kovass? Well, they’re not illegal in Damassi. And the things thatareillegal?” He shook his head with a short breath. “They’ll knock you on your ass for a week. If they don’t kill you, that is.”

“I would advise against sampling Damassi’s selection of indulgences,” Kysa warned, joining us at the railing. The other passengers, I noticed, either pretended not to notice the armor-clad rider walking across the deck or stared at her with blatant interest and awe. Some of their leering smiles turned my stomach and made me want to pull my hood up even farther. Kysa, for her part, ignored them completely.

“I was able to get a message to my clan,” she told us in a low voice, turning her back on the cluster of passengers milling about the deck. “They have agreed to meet with us at our seasonal stopping grounds, a place called Carapace Basin. The journey isn’t far, but it can be harsh for those unfamiliar with the steppes. I suggest getting a mount in the city before we embark.”

The strider continued making its ponderous way through the sands, never hurrying or changing pace, and the city of Damassi grew steadily closer. Sometime before we reached the docks, Raithe joined us, appearing without any warning that he was coming. When I glanced up and found him standing beside me, his gaze on the approaching city, that tiny prickle simmered in the pit of my stomach.

“When the strider docks, we won’t have a lot of time before Demon Hour,” he told the rest of us. I gazed at the sky and saw that he was right. Solasti stood directly overhead; soon her sisterwould begin the climb to join her. “We’ll need to find shelter as soon as we get into the city.”

“Not to worry,” Halek said. “I know a lovely little tavern right on the edge of the docks. It’ll probably be a bit crowded during Demon Hour, but the food is good and they serve the best redseed ale in the kingdom.”

Kysa took a step back. “I need to speak to Captain Arham to finish my service here,” she said. “And I’ll need to prepare Rhyne for the journey.” She looked to the iylvahn. “I assume you will be taking the northern pass when you leave Damassi? It’s the closest way into the steppes from the city.”

Raithe nodded. “There’s a sand dragon stable right outside the gate,” he replied. “My plan was to acquire mounts before we head into the pass.”

I perked up. Sand dragons were not the literal dragons of legend, with great sweeping wings and devastating, fiery breath. These were a species of squat, short-necked lizards with mottled scales and large horns sweeping back from their heads. They were popular mounts for desert travel, as they stored fat in their tails and could go for months without food or water. They were also infamously ill-tempered, and stories of sand dragons suddenly and unexpectedly taking a bite out of their handlers were not uncommon.

“I know those stables,” Kysa said, though from the slight wrinkling of her nose, it was obvious she thought the desert lizards an inferior mount to the rock beetle. “I will meet you there tomorrow, before suns rise. If we leave at dawn, we should have enough time to reach the first shelter before Demon Hour.”

The strider finally came to a grinding, moaning halt at the end of a long wooden pier, and Halek, Raithe, and I joined the crowd of tired, relieved passengers disembarking into the city.

The tavern Halek directed us to—the Sand Dragon Den—was noisy and crowded, filled with patrons who were also looking to avoid Demon Hour. Claiming a table in a corner, I sat with my back to the wall and watched the many strange and different people milling around the tavern. Kovass had its share of different races and cultures, but sitting as it did in the center of a sandy wasteland, it was fairly isolated and human-centric. Here on the coast, a stone’s throw from the Barren Steppes, Damassi attracted people of all shapes and sizes. I saw several d’wevryn sailors playing Triple Fang with a pair of troblin, the sharp-toothed, green-skinned people who lived in caves and tunnels underground. A lone insect rider, his hair dyed a shocking crimson, nursed a drink in the corner, and across the room, I caught a glimmer of eye shine from a malkah, a race of warriors with feline qualities, the most prevalent being their glowing eyes and retractable claws.

Halek nudged my shoulder with a grin. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” he asked around a mug of redseed ale.

I shrugged. “It’s certainly different.”

“We’ll spend the night in the city,” Raithe said, watching as an argument broke out between the d’wevryn sailors and the troblin. Thankfully, it didn’t escalate into a full-blown fight but ended when one of the troblin snatched his dice off the table and stomped away, muttering under his breath. Raithe casually tookhis fingers off his sword hilt and continued to scan the room and its patrons like a sand hawk. “I have a contact here who can shelter us for a few hours. Tomorrow we’ll meet Kysa at the northern gate and figure out how we’re all going to make the journey into the pass. I left a mount at the dragon stables near the gate when I first came through Damassi, but I didn’t think I’d be returning with companions.”

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