The Sands Turned Red

The desert air seemed to vibrate softly, but no breeze blew. My opponent was half crouched before me, ready to attack or defend at any moment. The sun glinted off the curved knives in either of her hands, and a bead of sweat swelled beneath her shaggy hair and slipped down the side of her brown-skinned face.

My world flashed, and I immediately stepped back while whipping my spear forward. I felt the wooden staff hit, and from the feel and sound I judged it as her arm. With the spots still fading from my eyes, I could only barely see her other arm coming in for the strike and just managed to dodge to the side. I whipped my spear about and smacked her soundly on the back of the head, forcing her to trip over my outstretched leg. A sting slid across my leg as one of her knives managed to slice in, but it was too late; I shoved my foot onto her back and pressed my spear tip against the base of her skull. As she lay prone before me, she cursed, and I smiled.

"Trying to blind me was clever, little sister," I said, stepping back and reaching down to help her back up. "But it also announced your attack."

"Yeah, well, I drew first blood," she grumbled, though she knew that bleeding didn't matter. "And would you quit callin' me 'little sister' already? I'm the adult 'tween the two of us."

"Hey, I can't help it if you half-humans get old faster. You'll still always be my little bond-sister," I laughed.

Kyra was actually more of a cousin, though it had been made my duty to watch over her at her birth. She had indeed matured past me now, but that was merely one of the signs that only half her blood was an Elf's. Her hair was not the same dull white as most of us, but instead a dusty copper. Her skin was not so dark as ours either, though that just showed she wasn't entirely Sand Elf. The most obvious sign, though - aside from her two half-human parents - was her lack of antlers. She didn't just saw them off, as many of us did to sell as trinkets; she had never grown anything more than a couple of small lumps that lay hidden beneath her hair. Even my younger blood-sister's were now growing in.

"Yah! Sari, Kyra! C'mon already!"

As we turned to run back to the clan, Kyra smacked the back of my head hard enough to make me stumble. She glanced back, laughed and ran on. Laughing myself and chasing after her, I called out, "I still won!"

Our clan broke off into groups to seek out trade within the outpost. Some had left while Kyra and I had prepared our spar, and more separated as my mother insisted on binding the shallow cut on my leg rather than just cleaning it. Soon, we were off into the crowded market as well. Outposts and other fringe settlements have always been the safest place for us; a place where we can hide from the sandstorms and forget about the worst of the desert beasts, where we can exchange the things we gather from the desert for fresh supplies and pretty trinkets.

Other groups had been tasked with things like water, dried fruits, and salt for meat, but our focus was on long-burning materials - preferably ones that didn't stink and taint the flavor of foods. As our kin talked with vendors and compared goods, Kyra and I periodically pestered each other. I'd try to trip her, and later feel a hard elbow in my side; she'd "test" a whistle right behind my head, and I'd wait for a chance to loosen her sandals. In one instance, I was itching the back of my leg with my foot when I felt her hand push on my shoulder just enough to knock me off balance - right toward weapons vendor. Luckily, I managed to catch myself on a rack without injury. I turned my head to see her walk away laughing before I stood back upright.

I was already trying to think of how to get her back when I noticed a lovely smooth, red piece of wood that served as the handle of a small knife. Wood had always fascinated me - the layered pattern, how light it was compared stone, glass, and most metal, and the sometimes twisted shapes it made. Kyra, on the other hand, had always been drawn to weapons, and blades in particular. When she was little, she had told me she wanted to become a great warrior known throughout the desert for her speed and skill. That was why I frequently snuck off on these visits and wore masks to challenge outsiders and other clans, learning all I could from them even when they greatly outmatched me. Even as she grew and her body passed mine, I did my best to keep up and keep her on her toes, trying my best to force her to improve - and I always smiled when I got to see her overcome the very same fighters and styles that beat me down.

I kept the knife in mind in mind for later. When we finally had replenished our supplies, I returned to retrieve it. To make sure Kyra wasn't around, I had told her to go take a look among the magic items for anything interesting.

It was only moments after my trade was finalized that the sky flashed deep red, the ground shook, and the air roared. Strange silence followed, even as people ran in panic and the holdings of merchants crumbled. I ran. At first, I didn't even think of a direction; nowhere seemed to be away. I quickly altered my course for the chosen meeting square, dashing through the masses as the silence was replaced by an unbearable ringing. I was joined by other Sand Elves along the way, more and more of them injured or somehow... warped. When we reached the square, I gaped at the damage.

So many of my clanmates - my family - were inexplicably dying before my eyes. Many were put out of their misery as soon as their survival was determined impossible. One appeared to have some kind of gruesome infection rapidly taking over his body. Another, covered in bruises and ragged gashes, was bleeding profusely. Their necks were sharply snapped.

Others weren't so lucky. Some choked on strange protrusions that grew rapidly from their bodies. Others bled out before anyone could tend them, most because the wounds had opened spontaneously after they arrived. Perhaps the worst was the one Kyra half dragged in; his legs dropped off as she neared, and only moments later, I watched his flesh bubble and melt away as others tried to stop the bleeding. My hearing had mostly returned by then, but all I could hear were shouts and cries of pain. There was no honor or pride to be had in these deaths. There was no sense.

When we fled the outpost, we had to abandon our dead, their bodies left to rot without any cleansing fire. More were left in our escape, as fewer remained able to carry them and instead needed support themselves.

We remained in the fringes for camp. All of us were trying to work out what had happened, but information was scattered. It seemed most of those who had been closest were among those we had lost. The pieces we had were the flash of red; that the air had shimmered unnaturally; that black and brown fire had ripped through merchant stands; that an indescribable stench had followed in the chaos. The only thing any of us were certain of was that, somewhere in the outpost, some spell or concoction had gone horribly wrong.

I soaked it all in without really listening. All who remained were unharmed or stabilized, but I couldn't stop looking over at my Kyra, fearing that at any moment, she might melt just like the elf she had helped in. I had no doubt that she had been close to whatever happened. It didn't help that she hadn't spoken in all this time, or even looked anyone in the eye. Perhaps it was my imagination, but she also seemed paler than usual.

"Hey there, little sister," I said softly at last, leaning over to give a little nudge with my shoulder and hoping the same cocky girl I'd always known would come out. When she didn't respond, I asked,"You okay? You've... you've been really quiet."

Kyra closed her eyes, lowered her face, and shook her head. She muttered so softly I could barely hear, "Just don't feel well."

Alarms went off in my head. She'd made it this far, but what if it was getting her slowly? What if -

Suddenly, Kyra bent forward and retched. I wasted no time calling out to the clan, and when I wrapped my arms around her, she felt cold despite the hot desert air and the sweat on her brow. Within moments, we had her laying. Her eyes were sleepy and bloodshot, and she looked around as if in a waking haze. She was brought water and food, but could barely choke any of it down, and began shaking soon after.

It only grew worse through the night. They couldn't make me leave her side to sleep, but I could only watch helplessly as my bond-sister moaned and writhed, sometimes even screamed, unresponsive to any efforts to ease her pain or illness. I knelt with her hand in mine, lightly massaging her calloused knuckles and trying to blink away the tears.

At some point early in the morning she fell silent, and I realized how tight her hold on my hand had been when it loosened. The heaving of her chest stopped. Terrified, my hand slipped up her wrist as one of the elders, Madar, pressed his fingers beneath her chin, both of us searching for a pulse and finding none.

"No. No, no-no-no... No! NO!" I shoved the others out of the way and hugged Kyra's cold body, pressing my ear against her chest and listening. There was no beating in her heart. I squeezed her tight and started sobbing at last, all the while begging her, "Wake up... Please, Kyra, wake up. I promise I won't call you little sister anymore... Just- Just wake up, please!"

I don't know how long I stayed like that before they pulled me away fighting. She was my sister. She was my charge!

"Sari! Sari, focus!"

Before me was a brown face with copper-red hair, and for an instant, I thought all was well. But it was the golden-brown eyes of Wyneti, Kyra's mother, that tearfully stared back at me. I lurched forward to embrace her, and felt her arms wrap tight around me, her voice softly shushing me even as I felt her body quiver.

"I'm sorry," I told her, "I should have protected her. I should have kept her safe. I... I should have stayed with her, or brought her with me..."

The campfire was built up to a pyre before sunrise. After all the clan members we lost, at least Kyra would have an appropriate funeral. It felt wrong to not consume her and keep her as a part of us all, but with her strange illness so soon after everything else, her body was deemed unclean. At least she could still be released among the flame and ashes.

Her clothing was stripped away and dry herbs and incense were laid upon the pallet with her body. A precious piece of fresh fruit was placed in her hands as an additional offering with the hope that it would help make up for all of those we had abandoned. When all was set, Kyra's body was brought to the fire as drums were pounded, rattles were shaken, and flutes whistled mournfully.

Through the music, I thought I heard a growl. There was a collective gasp as I looked up, followed by a shriek. Everyone was suddenly grabbing weapons, and near the blaze, Kyra hunched over one of her pallet bearers as she forced his neck too far. As soon as he went still, she leaped for another, this time biting into the neck. Everyone scattered, snatching up weapons along the way. I ran for my spear, and came back to see Kyra continuing to tear through what remained of the clan, biting and clawing anyone she got hold of.

No, this was not Kyra. It was a mere beast in the shape of my bond-sister.

I charged forward and jabbed the butt end of my weapon sharply into her side, knocking her from her feet as she tried to bite into a clanmate's arm. She snarled at me, but a rope landed around her neck before she could attack. I turned the tip of my spear on her. She ripped the rope loose and dove forward, easily snapping off the end and breaking through the shaft when I raised it to defend myself. I saw she had somehow grown claws as her hand came at me, claws I felt tear through my face. I stumbled backward into smoke, falling as I moved back from another swipe.

And then she wheezed, stumbled, and collapsed right on top of me.

There were shouts of "Quick! Kill the demon!" Staring at Kyra's unconscious face, I called out without thinking, "No! Not yet! Not yet!"

The shouts ceased, and Madar approached and knelt by me, though I could barely see his scarred and leathery form around Kyra. His voice all at once soft, stern, and commanding, he told me, "She is not Kyra anymore, Sari. You must let go."

"Not yet," I said weakly, then took a deep breath as she was rolled off. "Please. Bind her if she still lives, but... just let me see if she's still in there. I- I swear she saw me for a moment. Please, and I'll kill her myself if it's really not her."

He sighed, and I thought for sure that my request would be denied. He looked back at everyone else, a hand on Kyra in case she moved. Moments passed before he stood and declared, "We should give Kyra a chance to reclaim her body. She may never be one of us again, but too many have already died."

I stared in shock, then turned my head to the rest of the clan. The uncertainty was clear, but no made any protest. Finally, the elder commanded, "You, get rope. You, help me free poor Sari."

Action was immediate. I let my head drop and breathed at last. I didn't even realize she had torn through my left eye until someone else commented on it.

Kyra was thoroughly bound with our strongest rope and carried to where the air was still fresh. I stood ready with a fresh spear, the tip rested against her neck, and prayed that I would not need to plunge it in. Minutes passed as everyone with a line of vision watched, and I remained tense. Slowly I began to think that she would not wake again; that perhaps her heart had already ceased beating again, possibly for good this time.

"Sari, you must let it be. Your face needs bandaging, and I can tell from here that your eye will never fully heal."

I ignored it. I wanted more than anything for her to be alright, even though I knew she would still be cast out. Just to know she was alive...

Kyra groaned and shifted, but froze when I lightly pressed with the spear. She opened her eyes and wiggled in her bonds, then looked at me quizzically and asked, "What the hell is this? And why's my head feel like a damned forge in a sandstorm?"

I smiled, lowered my spear, and started crying.

"Did I- Did I miss something?" Kyra asked, and looked around at everyone. "Why is- What's going on?"

"You went... feral," I choked out.

"You're a demon," Madar stated plainly, though I could see that it pained him. "Whatever happened at the outpost corrupted you, and you have become a danger to the clan. We have already lost too many. You must leave."

Kyra gaped and looked to me, as if searching for some answer. I closed my eyes and lowered me face, my forehead resting on the shaft of my spear. The silence lingered until finally she shakily wheezed, "Okay."

She packed her things and we provided her with enough supplies to make it to the next outpost. The offerings felt empty. All these years she had been one of us, and now she suddenly wasn't. I'd watched over her for so long, even as she matured past me, and now I had to watch her walk away alone into the desert.

No, she wasn't walking away from us. We were abandoning her.

As she said her goodbyes, I hugged and clung to her. "Please," I asked softly, "let me come with you. Maybe we can bring a few others, find some more in the outposts... start our own clan."

She chuckled, but her eyes were wet. "C'mon now, you know you're bein' stupid. I know no one wanted to tell me, but I saw what I caused, an' the clan's already lost too many. Best it's just one more."

Kyra pushed my hair back and kissed my forehead, careful of the bandages now wrapped around my face. She whispered into my hair, "I'm so sorry."

Everyone who could watched as she left. I'd have surely cried again, but it seemed I'd run out of water to spill. I gripped the knife I'd bought tightly; I had planned to give it to her, but somehow it now felt like it was all I had left of her. As she shrank away into the the distance, I realized she had been right: between the two of us, she was the adult.