Valve trotted forward, her slender yet well-muscled legs churning against the thick sand at her hooves. She was displeased tonight for more than one reason, but she hardly intended for this mindset to last any great length of time. The Dunes’ intruding stallion would pay for his brashness and derisive words with pain. Like all things in the desert, the wind would move the sand and leave no trace of what was before.

It was a partnership—one she had come to understand well—and not at all different than her own with Maslakhat. The way of the desert was that the wind lifted the sand and created the dunes; it shaped the very fabric of the land. Those that knew anything about the desert knew that the wind was the mind of it; those that did not only looked to the sands and saw emptiness. Today, Valve would seek out Maslakhat and the wind would move the sand and shape the dunes once more.

…

Maslakhat saw her first; El Aran approached in the distance behind the High Seer. He lifted his nose to her and exhaled softly, a gesture of acknowledgement that indicated she was indeed where he said she would be. He let himself bask in the accomplishment of pleasing El Halin for a moment, half-expecting Iftikhar to come descending down the dune after her. But there were no war chants, no battle cries or even the slightest hint that the red mare was coming to do as she had come to these islands to do.

Instead there is another form in the distance; nearly invisible if it weren’t for the light of the moon and the stars in the night sky—Valve. Maslakhat locked his eyes with her own fleeting gaze, but does not give away her position as he watched her move from a trot to a purposed gallop. He can smell sweat as it mixed with spraying sand from the half-breed mare’s abrupt stop, and he took his eyes off Valve and looked upon the blind seer in his midst. He could not help but grin devilishly because in this moment, Maslakhat could see plainly what was about to unfold.

…

The Akhal-Teke mare was quite fed up with anyone who stood in her way—and at last she possessed an opportunity to eliminate one of those issues right here and now. El Aran, the half-breed who harbored the bastard son of her bloodline, had her back toward Valve and there would be no better moment than now to ensure she would not continue to present such a problem. Her dark eyes quickly flicked to Maslakhat who met her gaze with glittering anticipation and in a matter of seconds the dark mare was upon her.

Valve felt her shoulder collide with El Aran’s flank and the two black mares stumbled together in the sand. With her thin ears flat against her skull, she reached out and grabbed a mouthful of mane in her teeth, using the half-breed as leverage to regain her footing while simultaneously keeping her on her knees as she rose. With a loud squeal, Valve released her mane and reared up high, the crescent moon an ominous backdrop for her malicious act of violence.

As her hooves came down upon El Aran’s neck, she listened for the crack of broken bones that would signal the deed was done. And when the last light of life slipped from El Aran’s glassy eyes, Valve lifted her head and stared back into the face of the High Seer with stoic finality in her dark, black eyes.

VALVE & MASLAKHAT