Sand and Blood

Chapter 26: Preparing for Battle

Death should never be planned lightly.

—Kormar Proverb

Without having to drag Pidòhu, Rutejìmo ran as fast as he could. He stopped feeling the blisters on his hands and the ache in his back. His fears and self-doubts disappeared under the comforting speed and closeness to the clan spirit. There was nothing but him, Chimípu, and Shimusògo.

Even though he didn't have Tateshyúso's shadow over him, he felt neither the oppressive heat nor the sand against his feet. The heat was there, he knew it, but it didn't sap his strength or steal his breath. His feet never slipped on sand or rocks.

Ahead of him, Chimípu ran in silence. He knew she could go faster, but she was pacing him as she ran along with Shimusògo. No doubt, Mikáryo's lessons were burning on her mind. He felt relieved that she wouldn't leave him, but also felt guilty that she couldn't run as fast as her powers would take her.

Before he knew it, they were slowing. He saw no sign or signal, but the wind no longer ripped along his skin, and the dépa grew hazy with every step. As he shifted from a run into a jog, the spirit disappeared from sight.

Chimípu jogged for a few chains before coming to a stop. She was breathing lightly, and her limbs glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. A triangle of sweat also soaked the collar of her shirt. As she strode up the slope of a dune, she had a set to her jaw that frightened Rutejìmo.

She reached the top and crouched down. Her knee scrunched on the sand. Rutejìmo joined her, kneeling as they peered over the dune.

A quarter mile away was the stone arch Mikáryo had described. It was on the threshold of a mountainous region, with sharp-edged cliffs and ragged rocks. The arch was on a rocky hill. The nearest side of the hill was sandy but behind it was a gentle slope leading up to the cliffs. As the wind blew, it kicked sand into eddies that disappeared beneath the shadows of the outcropping.

The arch was larger than he imagined, stretching a few hundred feet across the sands and reaching about a hundred feet at its peak. Both ends were steeply sloped to the ground; he would have been hard-pressed to climb either end. In the shadow of the arch, he saw the silhouettes of more rocks. He had no doubt they would be sharp and jagged.

Rutejìmo whispered to Chimípu, "Do you know where Dòhu is?"

She nodded silently. Her finger was rock-steady as she pointed to one end of the arch.

He followed her gesture, frowning as he focused into the shadows. He spotted Pidòhu after a few seconds. The injured boy was curled up in the shadows, clutching his leg and rocking back and forth. Rutejìmo thought he saw a puddle underneath Pidòhu and he felt sick to his stomach.

"He's hurt," Chimípu whispered back, "and bleeding."

"Where is Bàyo?"

She gestured to the rocks underneath the arch. "Hiding and waiting. It's a trap. He knows we're coming."

"What do we do?"

"He hurt Dòhu. I'll kill him." She lifted her attention to the sky. "But I need to get started. There is only about thirty minutes of sunlight left, then he gains power as I lose it." She stood up.

Rutejìmo grabbed her arm to stop her. At her glare, he shook his head. "No, not you, we. We need to stop him."

She grunted and knelt back down. "Jìmo, I have to do this. It's my"—she gulped—"duty."

"Your duty to kill... stop Tsubàyo. But that doesn't mean I can't help."

She glanced at the stone arch, then back at Rutejìmo.