One
Sand.
It was everywhere, in everything, and unending. Shyla moved yet another heavy shovelful of the reddish-orange stuff and glared at the pile as if her censure would keep the annoying grains from returning. Of course, they would blow right on back, invariably blocking one of the many critical air vents of their new headquarters. No wonder the underground cities of Koraha had entire crews of people whose sole job was sand removal. Yet another aspect of life that Shyla had taken for granted when she lived in the city of Zirdai.
She paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. The sun was a few angles above the horizon. Its jump had just started, casting long shadows across the desert. The light breeze cooled her body. This was her favorite time of a sun jump.
Taking in the scenery, Shyla noted the distant clumps of vegetation, the rolling red dunes, the pink sky, and Rendor’s muscular arms flexing as he worked. Streaks of sweat ran down the sides of his dark face and stained his sleeveless tunic. He’d taken off his sun cloak, its protective fibers not needed at this time. During the early angles, the sun warmed the land, but as it continued its jump over the sky, the heat would increase until anyone trapped on the surface would be cooked alive.
Rendor caught her looking at him. He smiled. A strange flutter brushed her heart. She ducked her head before she could grin back at him like some lovestruck ninny. After all, she was the leader of the Invisible Sword, a magical organization determined to save Zirdai from the corrupt and power-hungry Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess. Both of whom had no qualms torturing and killing innocent people.
“That sand’s not going to move itself, Your Highness,” Gurice called. She paused with a full bucket of it in her hands. Her job was to spread out the sand that arrived via a pulley from the deeper levels.
“It will once you teach me how,” Shyla countered, ignoring the good-natured jab. She’d been called worse. With her blond hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes, she was sun-kissed and therefore an oddity among the people of Koraha.
“That would be a waste of your energy.”
And exhausting herself each sun jump clearing sand was not a waste? Shyla swallowed that comment. Everyone had been working hard to make the Temple of Arinna—their new headquarters—livable. Like all the ancient surface buildings on Koraha, the sand had eventually buried it.
And while they were happy for it to remain underground—the location was a secret after all—they still needed an entrance, escape tunnels in case of a cave-in, and vents for air shafts. Plus many of the twelve levels were filled with sand, which needed to be dug out and evenly distributed on the surface. The good news had been the inner core of the temple remained sand-free and they were able to occupy it and stay safe during the killing heat and freezing darkness.
Shyla still couldn’t help being frustrated. She had so much to learn about magic, The Eyes, and the Invisible Sword. But their survival came first. They had to leave the monastery before the prince and priestess forced the monks to hand over the surviving Invisible Swords.
Instead of acquiring knowledge on her powerful new eyes, she was learning how much food and water thirty people needed each sun jump, how many collection stations were required, and how often they should be cleaned out. Not that she was complaining; it was better than being hung upside down in one of the prince’s special rooms or being forced to confess her sins by the priestess’s deacons. She shuddered.
The Monks of Parzival had given them some supplies along with a few more recruits…well, the acolytes had decided to join them instead of the monks. But the provisions were dwindling. A point made clear when Shyla and her team of nine retreated underground ten angles before the sun reached the danger zone at angle eighty. The temperature cooled significantly as they descended to level eight, which was deep enough to be safe from the heat. The yellow light from the druk lanterns was weak in comparison to the sun and they slowed, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dimness.
Jayden and Ximen waited for her in the common room. It was a large open area with a handful of benches, low stone tables, and cushions scattered around. A few of their members had gathered in small clumps, eating rolls of velbloud jerky. Unfortunately, jerky was the only food they were able to acquire at this time. Some groups conversed in low tones, while others played dice or other games. The entire organization had divided into three teams of ten to distribute the workload. One team slept while another rested and the third worked. Then they’d rotate.
The two men pulled Shyla aside as the others in her team filled their empty water skins and joined those not on duty for second meal. Rendor frowned, but didn’t follow them. Probably due to Jayden’s glare.
“We’re running out of water,” Jayden said to her. He was one of her seconds-in-command for three reasons: his magic was the second most powerful, he knew the city of Zirdai better than anyone, and he had a network of vagrants who provided information and resources.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
“Three, maybe five sun jumps at most.”
Alarmed, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Jayden tilted his head at the glass jugs lined along the wall. “Two of the new jugs are poisoned.”
Back before getting involved with the Invisible Sword, she would have been shocked, but, after witnessing the Water Prince’s cruelty, she wasn’t surprised. If a citizen didn’t pay taxes to the prince, then they didn’t get clean water. Vagrants who couldn’t afford the price or those who chose not to support the prince found other sources of water and took the chance it might be poisoned by the prince’s guards. The vagrants had learned to give a sample of the water to sand rats before drinking it.
“Can we get more?” she asked.
“The vagrants are stretched thin,” Jayden said. He exchanged a glance with Ximen, her other second-in-command, who’d remained quiet until now.
“We know where there’s plenty,” Ximen said.
And she wasn’t going to like it. Otherwise, Jayden would have told her. He probably didn’t want to spark yet another argument between them. Despite waking the power of The Eyes, Shyla hadn’t earned Jayden’s trust. He also hated Rendor and was used to making all the decisions. The Vagrant Prince she called him. His loyalty was split between the vagrants and the Invisible Sword. But she needed him.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Ximen.”
“At our old headquarters. We have heaps of supplies that we left behind, including water.”
“Left behind for a very good reason.” The Arch Deacons had ambushed them, killing a number of Invisible Swords and capturing over a dozen. Only eleven escaped. And her friend Banqui was still missing. “It’s probably all been confiscated by now.”
“The supplies were well hidden,” Ximen said.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure someone is watching for us to return.”
“We’re the Invisible Sword, Shyla. We can bypass a few watchers long enough to confirm the supplies are there.” Jayden ran a hand through his golden-brown hair—a sign he was losing his patience. “You need to remember that.”
“I’m well aware,” she snapped. “And you need to remember that the Heliacal Priestess has a dozen platinum torques that block our magic, Jayden.”