“Some things you never forget. The arid climate is one of them. There is no water in the air. It leaves a dry, empty space in your mouth.”
Cyrene felt it then. She hadn’t ever been into the Fallen before. It was terrifying that, even at night, it felt like this.
“What should I be looking for?” Cyrene asked.
“Don’t bother. You’ll never see it from up here without training. Leave that to me. Just see if your magic works to look for water sources on the surface. I have no idea if you’ll be able to sense it like a competent water seeker. But it is worth a try.”
So, Cyrene directed her magic down to the ground. And felt…no water. She shuddered. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She couldn’t imagine a place with no water. None at all. She had always taken for granted that the element—her best element—would just be there at her fingertips. But she couldn’t pull water from thin air…not when there was no moisture in the air.
They flew for hours, sparingly drinking the water they had brought with them. Cyrene was glad that she had been able to at least nap when she was stuck in the Doma chamber all day, but the lack of sleep was definitely catching up with her. She kept feeling her eyelids drooping, her head lolling, and then she’d jolt back upright.
She shook her head and tried to think about waking, using her magic to scour the barren ground for a water source.
Cyrene, you should sleep while we are in the skies. Rita can scan the ground with her water signs, and Dean can use his magic atop Halcyon. You have had an ordeal. You need to replenish.
“No, I’m fine.”
But they both knew it was a lie. She would definitely need to sleep if she was to make it through all of this.
Sleep, Sarielle insisted.
Cyrene just sent her magic back down to the ground.
She hadn’t even known that she had fallen asleep until she heard Rita cheer behind her.
Cyrene bolted upright. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Sure, Sarielle said.
“I found a water sign,” Rita said. “Off to the left. Go lower.”
Sarielle did as instructed, never complaining that she hadn’t had any water in this great open expanse. As they got closer to the ground, Cyrene saw an outcrop of tall, spiked cacti.
“The cacti have water?” she guessed.
“Assuredly,” Rita said, “but you can’t drink it; it’s poisonous. Nearly all of it. You can only drink a tiny amount of it and only in dire situations. Otherwise, you will die a rather agonizingly slow death.”
“Cheerful,” Cyrene muttered. “So, that’s not the sign?”
“It is, and it isn’t,” Rita said. “There’s a post next to the largest cactus that glows under the moonlight. Do you see it?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“It was placed there by my people. A marker only visible at night when the water seekers are out as an indicator. Use your magic, see if you can find water.”
So, Cyrene did. And, to her immense relief…it was there. Not at the marker…precisely. It looked like it had been drained recently. But there was some nearby that location as well. Now that she had the thread, she could sense the connection of the water in this area. How it went from one sort of well to another.
“Put us down here, Sarielle. We have water.”
Wonderful. I could use a drink.
Cyrene laughed. “I don’t think we’ll be taking their water. Not if we want them to like us. Water seems to be chief here.”
“It is,” Rita agreed.
Sarielle landed outside the cacti cropping, and Cyrene helped Rita down off her back. Dean appeared a second later, already standing over the spot where the water had been drained.
“You sense it?” Cyrene asked.
He nodded. “It is faint. My strength lies in flame, but it is there.”
Cyrene turned to Rita. “What do we do from here?”
But Rita was already walking away from them, following something that neither Dean nor Cyrene recognized. They were definitely out of their depths here.
They were currently in the basin of a canyon, and the base of one side held what appeared to be shelter. Not exactly caves, but an overhang, possibly for protection if someone was caught out during the day. And Rita was walking straight toward it.
“What is it?” Cyrene whispered.
“They have fled this place.” She pointed at obscured tracks in the sand that were barely visible at this hour of night.
“Perhaps the dragons frightened them.”
“Yes,” Rita agreed. “We should continue without them.”
Sarielle tugged on her bond with Cyrene. We will await you here.
Cyrene nodded and then went with Rita and Dean toward the canyon wall. Still, Cyrene saw nothing and no one. The footprints abruptly ended at the rise of the next dune. Rita continued on, but Cyrene had her doubts.
They were nearly to the edge of the canyon when the sand erupted around them. Cyrene thrust Rita between herself and Dean. She unsheathed Shadowbreaker and had her magic at the ready. She could feel Dean bristling with lightning at his fingertips. Within minutes, they were easily surrounded. Spears, swords, and bows were held at the ready. No one moved. Everyone waited for the other to attack.
Rita pushed past them. “Stop, please. My name is Ritanya. I am Tyghan. I was sent to Byern thirty years ago, and I have returned to see my granddaughter, Isabylle.”
A woman stepped forward, a sand-colored mask, falling from her face. “Ritanya?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Yes,” Rita whispered. “Yes, it is me.”
“It cannot be,” the woman said. Her spear dipped as she approached Rita. “Who were your parents?”
“Eagan and Gretal. My mother was a seamstress. My father a water seeker. My brother was made a water seeker, and I was sent into the city to look for the rise of the seeker.”
A choked sob escaped the woman. She stepped into the moonlight, and her face was visible. A deep scar ran from her eye to her mouth. She was fierce and beautiful. “Ritanya, it is you.”
“Quidera?” Rita gasped.
“It is me,” Quidera said. And then the two women embraced, as it was clear they had not seen each other in thirty years. “You can lower your weapons. She is a friend.”
Rita nodded at Cyrene and Dean as well. Cyrene slowly sheathed her sword and uncertainly stared around. No one else looked particularly excited to be putting their weapons away.
“It is wonderful to see you, Quidera. And to see you as a water seeker.”
“Head water seeker,” she said. “I am leader of his sect.” She gestured to a man. “This is my husband, Hulen.”
A man bowed to her. “I have heard of you, Ritanya. A great sacrifice to go to Byern and leave everything you know behind.”
“I am happy for you,” Rita said. “These are my companions, Cyrene and Dean. We have been searching much of the night for water signs in the hopes of finding water seekers.”
“Were you the ones flying those giant beasts?” a boy no older than Cyrene asked, stepping out of the circle. He seemed to be bursting with interest.
“Jenstad,” Quidera bit out.
“Yes,” Cyrene spoke up. “Those are our dragons. We are sorry to have scared you with them.”