The three travelers rose just as the sun’s light peeked into the rock formation, falling across the red stone. Their hiding place was barely more than a gully, a hint of the mountains to the north from whence the River Esharra was born. Ilati felt calmer than the day before, some of the pain eased by Eigou’s medicine. She had cleansed the blood from her skin in a moonlit bath, but the sorrow was a shroud she could not shed. 

“Nothing lives in the desert.” Ilati broke apart a piece of flatbread as she spoke, voice soft and hesitant. Hunger gripped her stomach with tight claws. The destruction of Shadi had taken some days, and she had not eaten for any of them. “That is what makes it a desert.”

Menes frowned in agreement. “Nothing more than serpents and scorpions. Besides, without a great store of food or water, how long can we expect to survive out there?”

“I have not lived this long through folly.” Eigou extinguished their magical campfire with a snap of his fingers. “We do not seek a serpent or scorpion, but rest assured that power dwells in the desert beyond sight of Kullah’s green.” 

Ilati looked to Menes, whose misgivings seemed untouched by that pronouncement from Eigou. She felt the same doubts gnawing at her—the task the old man seemed set on was not one to be attempted by the wise. “Who are we to argue with a sorcerer?” she said reluctantly. “He must know the answer to many mysteries, even enough to enter the desert.” 

Menes grunted at that. “It is the return I think of, not the entrance. The sands have consumed the hopes and bones of many who sought to cross them.” The warrior sighed and ran his hand over his shaved head. “Are you certain of this, Eigou?” 

The sorcerer nodded. “If we are cautious, and Ilati brave, we will both reach what we seek and yet return.”

“Then let it be so.” Menes rose to his feet and packed away their bedrolls. He donned the leopard skin that he had slept on the night before, wrapping it around his body and letting the beast’s head cover his own. Such a hide no doubt served well as armor. “What do we seek, old man?” 

Eigou stood up and stretched his back. “All will become clear in time.”

For her part, Ilati tried to give Menes a comforting smile as she considered Eigou’s words. “He certainly speaks in mysteries.” 

“That he does,” the warrior muttered. “Let’s go, then. What are we to do for the mule, Eigou? He must drink as surely as us.” 

“There is an oasis a short way into the desert, just before the great dunes begin. We will camp there and leave the mule to his water and grazing until we are ready to depart.” Eigou wrapped gnarled fingers around a twisted wooden staff. “This is a desolate place. No other traveler will come across our camp.” 

The summer sun was brutal even in the morning. Heat distorted the very air around them into shimmers as they trekked away from Kullah’s green, painting mirages ahead in imitation of water. A wind picked up, sharp and abrasive across their skin. Fortunately, their leather sandals kept their feet from burning to cinders against the sand.

Eigou led them onward, never wavering from his eastern path. 

None of them were truly strangers to the desert. Shadi was close and granted moisture only because of the sacred river. Magan was said to be desert, if rocky more than sandy, so Menes was untroubled. Ilati had not spent much time out in the sands, but she knew how searing the very air could become. She let the veil fall lower on her face and thanked Eigou silently for the cloth across her dark hair as it shielded her from some of the sun’s rays. The light stung her eyes without more than the smudged remains of the eyeliner her people used to combat it. 

In her mind, she weighed the stories of the Desert of Kings. People whispered that powerful spirits dwelt in the desert beyond the reach of men. Some called them demons, howlers of the night winds whose evil eyes brought with them all misfortune suffered by the living. Ilati had never seen a demon, but she knew in every portion of her body that they were real. Only a fool would think otherwise. 

She tried not to dwell on it, glancing up towards the azure sky. Without a wisp of cloud in sight, the day would be almost unbearable, but at least they had a soft breeze to cool them ever so slightly. Now if only her whole body would stop aching and burning as she moved. 

When the sun reached its zenith in the sky, they stopped to rest under the merciful shade of a gnarled cypress tree, a rare sign of life without water. Its roots ran deep, deep enough below the ground to find some hidden reserve of water. “How much farther?” Menes asked, shading his eyes to look eastward.

“Not far,” Eigou promised. “We will reach it before the sun first touches the horizon.” 

Ilati smiled faintly despite the agony of her injuries and the accursed heat. “That is good.” 

The mule, no doubt part onager, seemed to share her relief. That said, the beast was not as troubled by the desert as she’d assumed. The ground here was largely flat and solid, easier for the beast to travel than the massive wall of dunes in the distance, stretching as far as the eye could see. 

They pushed on, trekking across the burning ground, for what seemed to Ilati to be an eternity. Eigou’s promise was not empty, however: as the sun touched the horizon, a smudge of actual green beckoned to them, only noticeable if one knew it was there. The mirages disguised it well. 

Menes sighed with relief as they approached the oasis. “I was beginning to worry you had gone senile, Eigou.”

Eigou grunted, adjusting the cloth covering his own head. None of them were showing more skin than they had to under the sun’s burning gaze. “Have I ever led you astray before, o leopard of Magan?” 

“One may always begin.” Menes looked to Ilati, but lowered his eyes so they didn’t meet hers. “How are your feet?” 

Ilati was attuned to every bruise her body held after hours of trudging. “They are the least of my woes. I am weary.” 

The man of Magan reached out, steadying her with one large hand on her shoulder. His gaze evaded hers again, even when she tried to meet it. “Only a little further. Should you have a need for them, my arms are yours.” 

She offered him a small smile, though it was hidden behind her veil. Where once she might have teased a man for such consideration combined with such bashfulness, she now fully appreciated it after the cruelty of Nadar. “Thank you, Menes. I hope not to weigh you down.” 

With the promise of future rest at the forefront of their minds, they made good time. Lush grass and trees surrounded a glassy pool, more than enough water for the three of them and the mule for a long time. Eigou tended to the beast while Menes and Ilati lingered at the water’s edge. It was significantly cooler beneath the shade of the swaying branches of the date palms. 

Ilati sighed in relief as she sat down among the grass. “So close to Shadi, I am surprised this place is not known to me. Is it cursed?” The idea didn’t bother her much when the alternative was marching through the desert. 

“Forgotten.” Eigou released the mule from the cart. “I expect some in Shadi once knew of it, but those who did are dead now. To my knowledge, you are the only survivor of the city.” 

The mule seemed content to graze, not even slightly concerned by his surroundings.

Menes was more watchful as he retrieved some dates from the nearest tree. He held them out to his companions before beginning his prowl about the camp. “So what are we here for, old man?” 

“We seek a spirit loosed to race here as the wind, long before men were crafted by the gods. A creature of wilderness and passion unchained by civilization: I speak of the one called Ki-sikil-lil by the men of Kullah, but who names herself K’adau.” 

Ilati tensed, a knot forming in her stomach. “You speak of the Mother of Demons. Why should we seek a creature so capricious and cruel?” 

“Crueler than the gods who abandoned Shadi?” the sorcerer said, his gaze settling heavy on the young woman. “Nysra and his hounds have great magic. Only something so ancient and potent can protect you from those evils.”

“At what price?” she asked. 

Eigou shrugged. “That is for you to decide with her, for you will go out into the desert in search of her. Every grain of sand in this place is hers. She will find you.” 

Menes looked no more pleased with this idea than Ilati did. “This does not sound wise, Eigou. I have no wish to abandon Ilati in the desert to face a demon.” 

“How am I even to sway Ki-sikil-lil to aid me?” Ilati only felt the knot in her stomach growing.

The sorcerer’s expression was as featureless as the desert sands as he studied her, only contours hinting at a nature beneath. “To be a priestess of Zu, you were yielding and gentle as a lamb, offering without ever asking. The Nadaren have taken that world from you. Now you must learn to shed such a nature like a snake leaves its skin and embrace new growth beneath. K’adau and the wilderness have many lessons to teach you, Ilati.” 

She hardly felt reassured. “And if I do not convince her?”

“The Mother of Night Winds does as she pleases,” Eigou said with a shrug. “I cannot claim to know her mind. Take tonight and tomorrow to rest, but then you must set forth into the desert.” 

Menes frowned. “Can I go with her?” 

“No,” Eigou said sharply. “K’adau seeks out only the supplicant alone. Your presence might anger her and certainly will not tell her that Ilati has courage enough to face true danger.” 

“This, Eigou,” Menes said bluntly. “This is why I do not like magic.”

“It is the way of things, welcome or not.” The old man settled down into the shade and plucked a reed. He drew his knife and started to whittle the stalk, creating a simple flute as he hummed a tune to himself. Soon he replaced the hum with the trilling of the little whistle. 

Ilati found comfort in the music, as she had her entire life. Temple hymns or laborer’s songs were no different in that regard. It carried her to a better place. Eigou was an able player, so it was pleasant against her tired ears. 

As soon as her memory turned homeward, carried by the music, her hands began to tremble. Shadi’s destruction burned in her thoughts like a column of flame.

Camp was quiet until almost dusk, even through dinner. Eigou and Menes felt no need to break her silence, giving Ilati space to sort through her words. It was more charitable than she’d expected.  Her brothers were always quick to tease her out of her thoughts, whether she wished to speak with them or not. Now she would never hear Kia or Duga call out to her again. She closed her eyes, trying to find a happier memory to comfort herself in.

—Sunlight played across the surface of the water, reflecting the midday sun. “Duga!” she shrieked as her brother sprinted towards the river with her wrapped in his arms. They were just west of Shadi with a group of their friends. The idea of a dangerous world was far from their thoughts.

Duga grinned when she locked her arms around his neck. Now he couldn’t cast her into the water,  but that was no difficulty. Her older brother took a running leap into the river with her still in his arms, landing with a huge splash. The water was a sudden shock of cold compared to the heat of the summer sun. He let go now that she was drenched, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “You looked heated. You needed the bath.”

Ilati splashed him. “You are a demon,” she said as scathingly as she could. Her anger never stayed for Duga or Kia, even though the twins were so often joined in mischief. She was always glad when they spent any time with her. As sons of a king, they had little time for even a sister.

“What about me?” Kia called from the shore with a grin. 

The priestess waded towards him. “You are a beautiful soul.” 

“But he’s the one who told me to drench you!” Duga complained. “Why am I the evil one?” 

Ilati narrowed her eyes at Duga’s twin, who burst out laughing.

“How terrible her rage!” Kia hooted as she advanced. “Someday the world will tremble at her vengeance!” 

Revenge was certainly the first thing on Ilati’s mind. “Shall I tell your wife of your cruelties, Kia? I am certain Damiq will repay yours with her own, may you sleep tonight beside your hounds.”

“It was only a dip in the water,” he said uneasily. Damiq was a beautiful woman, but she could be stern.

Duga chuckled. “And you say I am the demon…”— 

Ilati opened her eyes when she heard the music stop. Eigou knelt before her, unrolling his bundle of healing herbs. “Is something wrong?” she asked. 

“Wounds still must be tended, lest they turn foul.” The sorcerer’s lips pinched together for a thoughtful moment before he continued. “Besides, I had hoped that we might speak while Menes explores deeper into the oasis.” 

The priestess nodded slightly. 

Eigou unwrapped the bandages across her face, revealing livid bruises and broken skin. He moved carefully, but pain came even with care and some fresh blood welled as the scrapes were disturbed. “K’adau is a powerful spirit, Ilati. Perhaps more powerful than Zu herself and certainly more dangerous. You must be wary, and more so, you must be strong.”

“What will she wish of me?” Dread crept out from her stomach, spreading into her limbs. “I have nothing to offer.”

The old man daubed her bruises with that cold salve. It stung and then soothed. “I do not know.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I know that it is frightening, but it will only make you wiser. Remember the blood of a conqueror flows through your veins.”

Ilati leaned back as he finished his work with the salve, waiting for the bandages. Gratitude welled in her heart. “You knew my grandfather.” 

Eigou nodded. “Better than most.” A hint of an old joy and respect flashed across his face as he wrapped her face with an expert hand. “A creature of pride and fire, fierce as a lion and protective as a hound. Ilishu was a man others did not even dare to hope they might rival. Truly the greatest of Kullah’s kings. For many years, I served him faithfully.” 

“Yet I do not know you. How is this so?” Ilati hadn’t expected such a depth of admiration. 

A shadow passed over Eigou’s joy and his voice switched to brusqueness. “Something better spoken of another time, perhaps. You should rest.” 

Ilati caught his wrist to stop him from turning away. When he frowned at her, Ilati said, “I am sorry, Eigou. I did not mean to offend. You saved my life and for that I will be forever grateful.” She let go of his arm, hoping her expression was read as sincere.

He relaxed slightly. “You gave no offense.” He wrapped up his healer’s bundle. “The hearts of men can be dark. That is all.”

“I understand.” Ilati was bitterly aware of the evils that could be visited on a soul even without the influence of a demon. She felt it in the aches of her body, the  bruises and rips that were a part of every inch of her being. The numbness in her chest wouldn’t last forever. Soon, she would shatter, and she doubted there would be anything left after that. 

Eigou paused in his work and looked up at her. “Anything you desire of me, simply ask and I will honor your request. Menes would say the same, if he was one to speak.

The priestess leaned back against a date palm. “For a warrior, he seems gentle like a lamb.” 

A chuckle tumbled from the old man’s lips. “To you. I have no doubt his foes find him far more ferocious. One can go a great many years and a great many strides without finding  a man like him; he is a fast friend, whose affections do not fade as others’ do. Now get some rest, Ilati. Soon you must venture into the desert.”

She nodded, even though she knew her dreams would carry her back to Shadi’s ruin. Ilati moved over and settled into the bedroll laid out for her. It belonged to their warrior, but Menes had taken to sleeping on his leopard hide instead. The chill of the desert at night was considerable. Ilati was grateful for a blanket she could hide herself in.

Menes emerged from the palms and reeds, more relaxed than he had been. “We are the only souls who have been here, or if there were others, their tracks are long since gone. Eigou is right. We are not likely to be disturbed.”

Ilati pulled in a deep breath. “They will not come here?” 

“We are safe from the Nadaren.” The warrior shrugged. “I think only of spirits coming upon us now, but I would wager that the old man can keep them at bay. Sleep while you can. On the road to Sarru, there will be bandits and Nadaren alike.”

The priestess nodded, struggling with her urge to shrink back from Menes. Being on the ground while he stood brought flashes of the beasts to her eyes. His dark skin served as a reminder that he was not of the people who had destroyed her life. Even his accent marked him as not such a man…or so she hoped. 

Menes spread out his leopard skin near the fire and laid down. He rolled onto his back, looking up at the stars glimmering like dew on a veil. “Sleep well, Ilati. May you dream of better things.”