White Sand, Volume 1

  “You’d better not be dead,” she whispered, digging furiously, looking for a sign of Kenton. “Shella, Kenton, don’t be dead.”

  Her hand bumped something soft. She moved anxiously, uncovering a hand. Tears streaming down her face, she continued to dig, pushing away swaths of sand, trying to uncover the man underneath. Suddenly, there was a form beside her—a large, dark form. Baon reached down, grabbing Kenton’s body around the waist and, with straining muscles, pulled the sand master free from the dune’s grip.

  Khriss exclaimed in fright as she saw Kenton’s body. Sand stuck to his bloodied body, and his form was limp. However, as Baon pulled the sand master out, his eyes fluttered open and he began to cough.

  “Ugh,” he mumbled, looking at Khriss. “Sand tastes horrible.”

  Khriss cried out, hugging him, an action that provoked a grunt of pain. “Sorry,” she said, immediately, pulling back.

  “It’s all right,” Kenton mumbled, wiping his eyes as he regarded Drile’s corpse. Finally, he shook his head. “Poor fool,” he mumbled.

  “Kenton,” Khriss said, checking him over. There wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t covered with blood, but most of the cuts weren’t deep. “Kenton, you won!”

  “Surprising, isn’t it?” he asked, reaching over to lift himself to his knees. “That last attack was powerful, but it lacked focus. I don’t think Drile even remembered what he was trying to do—I protected myself from his sand with my own. Of course, when he died, it all just kind of fell on me. Here, help me up.”

  “You need to rest,” she chided.

  “Not yet,” Kenton said, pulling himself to his feet. “I have one task left.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  As soon as Kenton got to his feet, a wave of dizziness struck him. He would have collapsed to the ground if Khriss hadn’t been there supporting him. I’m in bad shape, he thought. However, he couldn’t let himself rest yet.

  He looked up at the crowd. Half of the seats were empty, but some of the kelzin were returning now that the danger appeared to be over. All seven Taishin still sat in their places.

  “Well?” Kenton demanded of them, leaning heavily on Khriss.

  “Well what, Lord Mastrell?” Heelis asked, looking him over with a dissatisfied eye. “You have slain your enemy.”

  “Drile slew himself,” Kenton announced. “All I have done is prove to the Diem, and myself, that I am worthy of this golden sash. I doubt any of the sand masters will question my right to lead after this.”

  “True,” Heelis admitted. “Assuming, of course, that there’s a Diem after the Council meeting a few hours from now.”

  “Why wait?” Kenton demanded. “You are all here now. Why not vote?”

  “It wouldn’t be proper, Lord Mastrell,” Heelis replied. “Someone might decide to quibble over technicalities in the Law.”

  Kenton smiled slightly at the jibe. His dried lips cracked painfully at the motion. “I promise you, it won’t be me, Lady Judge,” he said. “Cast your vote, and I will accept the result.”

  “You vow this, Kenton of the Diem?” Heelis asked.

  “I do.”

  Heelis turned to look at the other Taishin. None of them shook their heads, so finally she nodded. “It will be as you say, Kenton. We will vote. I warn you, however, I will hold you to your vow. This time, our decision is final.”

  “I understand,” Kenton said.

  “Then let us proceed. Lord General, how vote you?”

  Eric found Kenton’s eyes, his face so cold it was almost hateful. For a moment, Kenton feared what his former friend might say.

  “I vote in favor of the Diem,” Eric finally said.

  “Lord Merchant, how vote you?” Heelis asked.

  “I vote for the Diem, Heelis,” Vey announced in his high-pitched Kershtian voice.

  Heelis raised an eyebrow. Then she turned to Gennel. “Lord Farmer.”

  Gennel looked nervous. He shot Vey a look. “Um, I guess I vote in favor of the Diem, Lady Heelis,” he replied.

  “Lord Artisan, how vote you?”

  Rite turned calm eyes on Lady Heelis. “My terms have been met, Lady Judge. As long as the Lord Mastrell keeps his promises, I vote in favor of the Diem.”

  “I see,” Heelis said slowly. “Lord Mason?”

  “We vote for the Diem, Lady Heelis,” the tall Talloner responded. Kenton caught Dirin smiling triumphantly from the top row of benches.

  “And you, Lord Admiral.”

  Lokkall shot a nervous look at Delious. Then he turned to the Lady Judge. “I vote in favor of the Diem,” he said with an unenthusiastic voice.

  Kenton smiled triumphantly despite his complaining body. I almost don’t believe it, he thought with amazement. He turned eyes on Heelis. “It appears the Council is unanimous, Lady Judge,” he said.

  “Not yet, Lord Mastrell,” Heelis said slowly. “We still have one vote to count. My own.”

  “Surely I have met your requirements, Lady Heelis,” Kenton objected.

  Heelis frowned. “Have you? What about the Diem’s debts.”

  Vey cleared his throat nervously. “Um, Lady Judge.”

  Heelis turned eyes toward the Lord Merchant. “Yes?” she said tolerantly.

  “In the spirit of friendship, the Guild has decided to take the Diem’s debts on itself,” Vey explained.

  “The spirit of friendship?” Heelis asked disbelievingly.

  “Well, that and a promise of generous compensation later on,” Vey replied with a shrug. “It is, however, all quite legal.”

  Heelis thinned her eyes. “I’m certain,” she said.

  “The Diem’s debts are no more,” Kenton announced with as much strength as he could manage. “And the sand masters have a firm leader. Your conditions are met, Lady Judge.”

  “No,” Heelis corrected. “Two of them are met. I had three requirements.”

  Kenton frowned. Three requirements? What had the third one been?

  “I said that you were required to win the support of the people of Lossand,” Heelis reminded.

  “Surely I have done that,” Kenton said somewhat uncertainly. Khriss wiggled closer to him, placing herself underneath the crook of his arm, supporting his weight as his body grew weaker and weaker. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  “I don’t know, young Kenton,” Heelis said. “I really don’t know. A leader must have the support of his people—we of the Council do not rule by domination, but by consent of those below us. If the Diem does not have the favor of the people of Lossand, then it doesn’t matter what deals you have made with the Taishin.”

  “The people don’t know us yet, Lady Heelis,” Kenton explained. “Two weeks isn’t enough time to educate a nation. However, if we are given time, then I am certain we can bring them to our side. Such has already begun in Kezare—surely you’ve heard the rumors.”

  “I have,” Heelis admitted. Suddenly, she looked very, very tired. She sighed to herself.

  And I thought my burden was large, Kenton suddenly realized. Heelis represents all of Lossand. Hers is the only profession whose focus is on the rest of the nation, rather than just the Profession’s members. She must feel an incredible weight of responsibility.

  “The problem is, Kenton, I am not impartial in this matter. I admit it freely—I have always liked the sand masters. Therefore, I cannot vote.”

  “Then we are at an impasse,” Kenton said with a frown.

  “No,” Heelis said. “I have prepared for this eventuality. I decided that if this possibility arose, I would give my vote to another. And, since I am biased in favor of the Diem, I decided that the one who voted for me would have to be biased against you. You see, Lord Mastrell, this way I can be certain. I chose the person most opposed to the Diem that I knew. That way, if you convinced him, I would know that you could convince anyone. You really would be favored by all of Lossand—sand master, common worker … and Kershtian.”

  Oh, no … . Kenton thought with horror. He had a s
uspicion he knew who she was talking about.

  “Senior trackt Ais, step forward,” Heelis ordered.

  Ais, unnoticed in the shadows at the back of the room, emerged into the light.

  Well, I just lost, Kenton thought with a shake of his head. At least I gave it a good fight.

  #

  Ais stood stunned. What did she just say? He thought incredulously.

  “Step forward, Ais,” Lady Heelis said.

  Ais moved into the light.

  “Well, Ais,” Heelis announced. “I give my vote to you. The Diem’s fate will be decided by your decision. How say you? Does the Hall vote in favor of the Diem or against it?”

  Ais looked down at Kenton, trying to stir righteous hatred in his heart. This was the man whose very existence defiled the Sand Lord. This was the man whose blasphemies were greater than any other on the sands.

  This was the man who had saved his daughter’s life.

  If Ais hadn’t snapped the day before, he certainly would have at this moment. However, he was drained. He could barely think, let alone lose control. After all this time, the Kershtians finally had a chance to destroy sand mastery forever.

  I have to do it, Ais told himself. I have to remain true to the Sand Lord.

  Ais opened his mouth to speak. However, as he did so, his daughter’s face appeared in his mind.

  You will attempt to become my friend, Ais’s own words, spoken coldly to Kenton, resurfaced in his mind. You will try to laugh with me, prove to me that you aren’t what I assume. You may even save my life. None of this will change my opinion.

  Kenton hadn’t saved Ais’s life. He had saved something far more important. To deny the Diem would be to wish his daughter dead, and Ais could not do that.

  “I vote in favor of the Diem,” Ais whispered.

  The entire room looked at him for a moment, stunned. Then Kenton let out a sigh of surprised joy, hugging the darksider woman at his side. The room filled with sound as people began to talk.

  Ais slunk back into the darkness. Yesterday I betrayed my family, now I have betrayed my God. What is left for me now?

  Ais bowed his head and left the room a broken man, leaving the sounds of joy behind him. The Diem would probably never know the full cost of its survival.

  #

  As Kenton cried out in joy, his body finally decided to give out on him. He began to slip out of Khriss’s arms. Fortunately Baon caught him, lifting him up again.

  “It appears I have no choice but to reinstate the Diem,” Heelis said. “I ratify you as Lord Mastrell, Kenton. Congratulations.”

  Kenton smiled one last time. Then he fell unconscious.

  #

  “He’s my cousin,” Dirin explained, bringing Kenton a cup of chilled juice. “The Lord Mason wasn’t willing to listen to me, but he was willing to listen to Serin. I got back as soon as I could.”

  “Good job,” Kenton approved, reaching for the cup. His body was covered in bandages—he had cuts in places he hadn’t realized he had skin. He had spent most of the day under the ministrations of Draft healers, letting them wrap him in bandages—a process supervised, of course, by Khriss, who had wanted to make certain they didn’t use any ‘primitive’ doctoring techniques. Kenton was weak, but on the whole he felt good, considering what he had just been through.

  “Um,” Dirin said nervously. “I did have to promise him ten sand masters to help in the mines.”

  Kenton smiled. “Don’t worry about it. That’s fewer than I had to promise to Reegent.”

  Dirin shrugged, moving to clean off a table of cut bandages.

  “Have you talked to the rest of the sand masters like I asked?” Kenton asked.

  Dirin nodded as he worked. “They accept you, sir, even the ones who used to follow Drile. Some of them are actually beginning to believe that one ribbon can be as powerful as dozens. Either way, you shouldn’t have any trouble from them—except for a few, who think you tried to have Drile killed.”

  “What?” Kenton asked, leaning back in his chair. It was nice to know that his rooms were actually his rooms—that he wouldn’t lose them sometime in the next few weeks.

  “It’s really strange, sir,” Dirin admitted, turning with a frown on his face. “There’s one of Drile’s old followers—Terr—who claims you hired Kershtian warriors to try and kill Drile. Apparently, he thinks you sent those Kershtian assassins that have been trying to kill Drile.”

  Kenton froze. “Kershtian assassins tried to kill Drile?” he asked.

  Dirin nodded. “Sure, just like they tried to kill you. Didn’t you know that?”

  Kenton sat stupefied. “No,” he said. “I guess I haven’t been paying enough attention to the Diem—I had other things on my mind. But, why would the Kershtians try to kill Drile? He’s was working with them.”

  “Maybe he betrayed them,” Dirin suggested.

  “Maybe,” Kenton said, unconvinced. He leaned back thoughtfully. He stared at the stone walls, wondering about the attacks. It was possible, he supposed, that Drile hadn’t been behind the fall of the Diem. But, if not him, then… .

  “Sands!” Kenton exclaimed, leaping out of his chair and limping toward the door.

  #

  Kenton found him in a small living chamber on the second floor. He sat in a stiff carapace chair, watching the door as Kenton entered. The room was stark and unadorned—a contrast to the lavish Mastrell’s quarters a flight above.

  “Hello, Elorin,” Kenton said quietly, entering the room.

  “Hello, Lord Mastrell,” the old sand master replied. His eyes were sorrowful. Just like they had been ever since the Kershtian attack a month ago. Kenton had assumed it was just his loss of sand mastery.

  “Elorin,” Kenton said slowly. “I want to know how you survived the attack a month ago.”

  Elorin didn’t answer immediately. “I survived because the Kershtians didn’t want to kill me,” he finally answered.

  Kenton closed his eyes in pain. All this time, he had thought it was Drile. “You poisoned the water, didn’t you?” he asked. As always, it had been Elorin’s duty as the Lord Mastrell’s assistant to prepare the water for the ceremony.

  “No,” Elorin said in an almost distracted way. “It was the bowl. That way, every time new water was poured in, it received the taint as well. It’s called KaDo, a rare Kershtian spice that accelerates dehydration. Even I didn’t expect it to work as well as it did.”

  “All this time, you’ve been watching me and directed the assassins meant to kill me,” Kenton said, opening his eyes and looking down at the balding older sand master.

  Elorin nodded.

  “Why, Elorin?” Kenton demanded. “Why betray the Diem?”

  Elorin looked up, meeting Kenton’s eyes with a sorrowful look. “When your God commands, Lord Mastrell, you listen.”

  “Your … God?” Kenton asked with amazement. “Sands! When did you convert?”

  “Six months ago,” Elorin explained. “Ker’reen is true, Kenton. I know it is.”

  Six months—the same time that Elorin had resigned his position as Head of Acolents.

  “At first, I wanted to quit the Diem,” Elorin explained. “But the A’Kar himself sent me a letter, commanding me to continue on as before. But, I couldn’t. I couldn’t use my powers when I knew they were evil. So, I just stopped. No one really noticed. I always have kept to myself.”

  “And then he ordered you to betray us,” Kenton said flatly.

  “It would have been better for you in the end,” Elorin said with despair. “Better that several should die now so that souls will not be lost in the future. Of course, I wouldn’t have done it, except. . . .”

  “Except?” Kenton asked, feeling numb.

  “The Sand Lord appeared to me,” Elorin said, his eyes completely honest. Haunted, but honest.

  “Oh, Elorin,” Kenton said, shaking his head. “You’ve made things very difficult for me.”

  “Well, then,” Elorin said. “I shall make the
m easy for you, Lord Mastrell. You see, two days have passed. I am allowed to try again today.”

  Kenton frowned, noticing for the first time the dark object beside Elorin’s chair. The man removed a cloth from its top, revealing a shiny zinkall underneath.

  “Elorin,” Kenton said warningly.

  The man ignored him, putting the zinkall on his arm and proceeding to pump one of its chambers.

  “Don’t do this, Elorin,” Kenton warned.

  “You had better kill me, Lord Mastrell,” Elorin responded, looking down at his weapon. “This arrow is coated with terken carapace. Your sand won’t be able to stop it.”

  “Elorin, I … .” Kenton said, pained, calling a handful of sand to life.

  Elorin raised the zinkall. “Kill me,” he whispered. “I am ready to go.”

  Kenton paused. Elorin fired the weapon, and Kenton dodged reflexively, sending forth his sand. His body gave out at the stress, toppling him to the ground. Fortunately, Elorin was a horrible shot. The arrow went wide, striking Kenton in the arm.

  Kenton’s sand, however, flew truly. It took Elorin in the chest, slicing a neat hole through his heart. The undermastrell toppled backward into his chair. He took a few pained breaths, then fell still.

  Oh, sands, Kenton thought, pulling himself to his feet with difficulty, holding his arm. When will this stop? He stumbled from the room, leaving the corpse behind. Outside he found Dirin leading a line of sand masters.

  “I brought them,” Dirin explained.

  “Don’t worry,” Kenton said. “He was alone.”

  Dirin paused. “And … .”

  “I was right,” Kenton said sorrowfully.

  #

  Khriss watched with dissatisfaction as Kenton landed on the balcony and walked into his room. “You’re supposed to be resting,” she reminded.

  Kenton shook his head. There was a look of sorrow on his face. There was a new bandage on his arm, one stained with blood.

  Khriss felt a stab of fear. What now?

  “Elorin,” Kenton explained in response to the question on her face. He took a seat in the center of the room, sighing as he relaxed. His chest was also bandaged, where the healers had pronounced him the owner of three cracked ribs.