Page 20 of Risking Her Heart

These are not doubts that I’m wrestling with. It all feels natural and only because I’m trying to understand it analytically am I even aware of a lot of this. Turning over every detail because in truth I don’t want to be wrong. Already the idea of losing him opens an abyss in my heart.

As I consider the mounts move us forward. The rolling dunes of sand have grown taller and bigger. The one we are climbing now is steep enough that I’m pressing against the spines behind the saddle. It must be around a forty degree angle. Not straight up or anything crazy but it’s one big dune.

The shades of red and white striated sand slips and slides as the guster climbs. If we weren’t mounted there is no way I could climb this thing. Even the guster, with its wide webbed feet designed for moving over this crazy planet, is having a tough time. Every step forward it slides back half a step.

Zas reaches the top first and halts his mount. He stares ahead while my mount finishes the climb and then turns towards me when I finally arrive.

“There,” he says, pointing ahead.

The dune we’re on is the taller by far than those around us. A stretch of what looks like a mountain range, though from what I studied of geography and have seen in old Earth vids I’m not sure it’s big enough to classify as one. I have no clue what the proper title of it would be but that is really a moot point.

“Is that where they are?”

Zas nods slowly. “If no lies.”

Right. If we believe a prisoner. One who is operating on his own agenda that none of us are completely sure is in alignment with ours. He is, after all, a member of the cult-like Order. The same group that our Zmaj escaped from.

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging off the fears and concerns. “We ride?”

“Yes, my treasure,” he says, flashing his crooked grin which is full of confidence and certainty.

Butterflies dance in my stomach, both from fear, but every bit as much from the way he makes me feel. I stretch out my arm and he takes my hand. He grips tight then we let each other go, but the feeling of his touch lingers.

He taps his heels to his mount, and it lurches ahead. Mine follows without any command from me. My stomach drops as the guster steps over the lip and onto the steep angle down. There is a wide flat space between this dune and the rocky almost mountain formation.

We’ll be fully exposed on our approach. There is no way to get there without being easily seen. Which, I realize, is probably by design. If I were going to build a hidden outpost and wanted it to be defensible this is what I would pick.

The drop of my belly turns to churning as we reach the bottom of the dune and journey towards the cliffs. The back of my neck itches terribly. We’re riding into the jaws of the enemy and we both know it. How Zas manages to appear nonchalant as he rides, I do not understand. I keep shifting uncomfortably in my saddle.

We enter the shadows of the mountain. I struggle with the urge to turn my mount and ride as fast as I can in the opposite direction. Zas makes a ‘tsk’ sound as he taps his mount to go faster. I’m tossed back as mine lurches to match his speed.

When Zas’tu reaches behind himself, and draws his lochaber, I know we’re in trouble.

13

ZAS’TU

Ispot the trap but there is no way to warn Kat. Sometimes the best way to handle a trap is to spring it before the enemy is prepared.

I kick my mount into greater speed. As I draw my lochaber it enters a full gallop. I glance over my shoulder and see that Kat is falling behind, which is exactly what I wanted. Her smaller mount isn’t strong enough to match the speed of the alpha that I ride.

The small mounds I noted in the sand are about a wingspan apart. I keep the guster on a path to ride between them. I do not want them to know I have spotted them until it is too late.

At the last possible moment, I jerk the reins to the left. The guster fights my control, growling and emitting a shriek but I pull harder, and it shifts course. I bear directly down on one of the mounds.

The buried Zmaj realizes what I’m doing and leaps up. Sand explodes, filling the air as the Zmaj rises from his hiding place. He spreads his wings, trying to catch the wind, but I’m too close.

I don’t want to kill. Instead of driving the blade of my lochaber in, I swing the weapon over my head and strike with the shaft.

The Zmaj screeches. I hit with enough force that I am certain I broke his ribs. He tumbles mid-air and slams onto the sands. The forward momentum of the guster carries me past where he lands.

I jerk the reins, forcing the guster into a sliding stop. It struggles, wanting to feast on the downed foe, but I force it towards the other mound which only now is moving. The Zmaj that was waiting there is reacting.

Katarina’s mount has closed the gap and is riding too close. I see what is coming, it plays out in my head before it happens. Cold races over my limbs. There is not enough time for me to intervene or stop it. As she passes by the Zmaj emerges from his hiding spot.

He leaps up, glides over, and grabs her as he passes. Her feet tangle as he tries to pull her from the saddle. As dangerous as it is, it works in my favor. Instead of landing on the opposite side of the guster with her as a hostage, he is pulled up short.

The two of them fall on the far side of the guster. He hits the sands, rolling away while she is left dangling next to the guster, trapped by the stirrups. The guster, reacting in fear and without its alpha to follow, rears and screeches, then slams down and rushes away.

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