Keeper of Life - NaPoWrMo Entry

She wished she had more time with them, to mold them, to train them but she didn't need old sandwalkers, she needed young, strong blood. The passing of Brother Yoke proved this. She always thought she would die in the sands under the stars but if she died under the collapsing barrier she would die happy.

The chill of the winter night bit into them, their thick cloaks no longer insulating their haggard bodies. Coal's cloak played on the wind, two dark lines twisting together like crossing snakes were etched onto hers. It was the symbol of the last queen, of the brood they had all descended from. Now she was little more then a memory.

“Keep the pace up,” Brother Fang ordered. He fell into his new position easily. The others picked up speed. He trotted beside Coal. “Lady, they cannot match your pace,” he said hesitantly.

“They will match my pace or be left behind in the sand,” Coal returned. She knew her long legs kept stride more easily, but that was no excuse. She raised her voice and said, “We have two moons to reach the barrier and we shall not travel in daylight. The winter solstice is our only opportunity and we shall not miss it because of any individual weakness.” Her underlings didn't respond but picked up pace.

“At our next stop distribute load if need be, discuss it amongst yourself,” Brother Fang ordered.

The night drug on in slow silence that was only marred by the cutting wind, their footsteps becoming forgotten on the desert floor. Coal directed them toward a maw of jutting rock. It seemed to lurch from the sands like a great beast threatening to consume them all. She stopped them from setting up camp, instead they distributed the remaining food, handing Coal her share.

“We all know the plan Brother Fang, but go over it with them again. A tired mind slips,” she ordered. “And we bleed ourselves no longer, we'll need to save our moisture.” She saw the look in his eyes. 'We'll die before the poison kills us,' she answered in her mind.

“Yes Lady,” he said with a nod. He brought out a map and gave lay of the land yet again, he drew patterns in the sand and gave them subtle reminders about food and water rationing, though they had none left. Fang had a way with these words, he could go over the most mundane details and not insult one's intelligence. Fang should have been brother from step-off. She watched as he went over the infiltration plan, and how they thought it might go, how he instilled an almost placid sense of hope in them, as fragile as it was.

While Fang went over the plans behind her she tried to envision the city. She drew pictures and maps in her mind from the old ones who'd attempted to breach it before. There were so few. She remembered sitting beside an old sandwalker, his face withered and distorted by poison and by age. He had already outlived his years, and had even outlived his broodmother. “Water that sits on the ground,” he had told her. The thought was hard for her, like envisioning a sense that didn't exist. “And it falls free from the sky. The sun, they live during the rise of the sun,” he had said. The pictures he drew for her were vivid and light, like capturing a dream in a bottle. “And their food grows from trees, they have but to pull them off.”

Shifting grains twisted around her hoof making a faux puddle on the ground as the wind swirled. She looked down on it, and wondered if those in the city had ever actually seen sand. It was a land devoid of life, and what little remained there fought each other to survive.

The night was already cracking, she could feel the night chill beginning to slip. “Don't get settled, we're moving on.” As she spoke she could feel the weariness in their eyes, and in their joints. They obeyed though and rose, legs cracking as they did.

She went to turn when she heard a sigh, and caught the shaking of a head. “You!” she bellowed. They all instantly turned and took a pace back. With steady paces she brought herself before him. Her eyes seemed to make him smaller then he already appeared next to her. “Do you mock my command?” she asked. He shook his head. “Do you assume that my orders are not just? Would have me do else?” Her eyes shone with fierce intensity.

“No Lady,” he said.

“What are you?” she asked.

“I am but your humble servant Lady,” he said bowing his head.

“No!” The sand shook with her voice. “No,” she said lowering it. She paced beside him. “You are a warrior, a sandwalker, a destroyer, you are the last. You are not my servants, you are the servants of Death herself.” She looked to her underlings, each of them. “You alone hold the power to bring down the barrier and we, together will see The Tree withered, rotten, dead. We will see the pain on their faces as all they love come tumbling down.” She smiled now, and they looked upon her with hunger, and lust. “We'll see them suffer, like we have, see them starve like we have, and see them beg us for mercy!” Her laughter seemed to tear through the wind, creating a void that swirled with her energy. Their fangs shone as the vision filled them, she filled them with the only fuel that kept them going.

“But..” she said stilling them, “we will do so under my command. We cannot succeed unless we are united as one, fight as one, think as one. I will not accept any measure of this hesitant action again. If any of you are too weak to continue I'll personally pull the energy from your bodies myself,” she said with deadly seriousness. No one doubted the truth of her words. “Am I clear?” she asked.

“Yes Lady,” they chimed together.

“Good, then we depart,” she ordered. They turned and moved into the slowly lighting sands.