Sand and Ash

Chapter 10: A Late Encounter

A hidden alley leads to both danger and treasure.

—The Bandit King's Daughter (Act 2, Scene 1)

Night descended on Wamifuko City. The buzz of insects added to the din of animals and people. Rutejìmo jogged along a path that circled just outside the city wall but well within the gaze of the many Wamifūko warriors who stood at the gates between the pillars of rock.

The ban against magic ended one chain from the wall, and a sparkling haze spread out over the various clan camps and among their camp fires. Even running past them, Rutejìmo could feel the resonance gathering in pools around the more powerful clans. Arcs of unnatural lightning coursed along the tents and ropes, igniting both fires and fighting. In the distance, a plume of magenta fire marked where an artifact exploded.

He circled around the conflicts, but kept his eyes out for black horses or the Pabinkúe banner. With every step, he felt more foolish. It had been hours since he saw the herd, but he couldn't stop looking.

In the back of his mind, guilt burned brightly. He needed to turn around and return to the inn with the rest of his clan. Desòchu would be furious at him and Rutejìmo didn't look forward to the hours of screaming that would follow. After an hour of searching, Rutejìmo realized that Desòchu couldn't get any angrier and kept looking.

He had to find the horses. It didn't matter if they were Mikáryo's or not. He just needed to find the horses and then he would head back to the inn. He needed to see them once and then he could return to his life as a courier.

Bearing down, he pushed himself to his limits and the world blurred. He knew that his passing would add a little to the volatile resonance in the camps, but not enough to damage artifacts or cause others pain.

Along the south side of the city, he caught a familiar sight: three mechanical scorpions towered above the crowds. Each one stood at least a chain high, and the light of bonfires reflected off the bellies and legs of each one. Waves of heat rippled over the devices and he remembered how the massive fires at each foot of the scorpions would power the devices to walk across the earth.

The last time Rutejìmo saw one of the scorpions was the night that Tsubàyo, a former clan mate, stole one of Mikáryo's horses and killed her companion.

"It can't be a coincidence," muttered Rutejìmo. He slowed to a stop. Insects swarmed around him and he waved his hand to brush them away.

Every time he looked at the brass legs of the massive devices, he remembered seeing them years ago. A storm of exhilaration and hope beat against his chest. His heart thumping painfully in his chest, he made his way toward the scorpions, careful to avoid crossing the ropes that marked each clan's camping area. He noticed that most of the banners and colors were dark, but he didn't recognize the names as he passed. The familiar whites, oranges, and reds were gone, replaced by dark greens, blues, and blacks. He was among the night clans, those who gained their power from the moon instead of the sun like Shimusògo did.

He felt vulnerable among the clans of the night. His red outfit and white shirt felt more out of place with every step. He noticed people glaring at him, much like the others had cursed the black horses.

Rutejìmo slowed down, peering carefully to avoid intruding into private areas. He didn't know what they would do, but the horror stories whispered over the years bubbled up in his mind. He was among the enemies of Tachìra, and he was the outsider here.

An itch spread across his skin and sank into his bones. He scratched the joint of his right hand idly. He couldn't reach the source, but it gave him something to focus on instead of the growing fear. It took him a moment to realize he had started to feel the contrast of magic between his own powers and others, the differences of sun and night managing to irritate even his own weak abilities.