Free Brother Thief (Song of the Aura, Book One) by Gregory J. Downs Page A

comet, the creature collided with the ground and whirled around in a single motion. The perfect landing, made by the perfect beast of the air. It was a falconhorse, one of the few winged mounts in all the world, coveted by kings and denied to all who did not know their secret.
     
       The creature glared at Gramling with eyes of fire. Its wings stretched out above it for twenty feet from tip to tip, leathery black and pitted with holes as if in the middle of rotting. Metal spikes were embedded in its head, and its teeth were far too large and sharp for a natural beast. Gramling smiled grimly. His master could have sent no clearer message. He had been given the best of the best with which to dispatch or capture the Sand Strider… failure would bear a penalty worse than death.
     
       But I will not fail.
     

Chapter Seven: Soldiers and Pickpockets
     

     

     
       As soon as the sun’s first rays broke over the horizon, the storm subsided as quickly as it had come. Awake now, but still unwilling to do anything, the young thief stayed huddled in his shelter while the sun rose. The great fiery orb leaped up into the sky in minutes, drying the desert so fast that the wet ground quaked and cracked audibly. The sand he’d constructed around him grew whiter and whiter as the water was leeched from it, until it too began to crack.
     
       Gribly rolled out from under it just as the entire structure collapsed in a spray of white dust. He wondered if it was because of the water, or because he had built it with his gift.
     
       His gift. He had only used it when he had to, back in Ymeer, but now that he was using it more often it seemed to be… increasing? Spreading out? Getting more powerful? He wasn’t sure which was right. In any case, he could do more with it now.
     
       Bending to the hard ground, he decided to test it. His fingernails bit into the hard earth, which melted away under his grip as if it were soft sand again. Then, slowly, he stood up again, willing the sand to do as he wanted. When he straightened his back and looked at his work, he had raised two thin pillars of hard yellow soil under his hands.
     
       “Strange,” he mumbled, pleased at his handiwork. He kicked one of the stalagmite-looking-things down with his sandal, and it melted away into sand again. He took the second spire in his hands and bent it into a loop, willing it to become hard and immovable. That ought to confuse the spine-geckoes for a while, he thought to himself. Amused, he put a hand over his eyes to shade them as he gazed at the desert around him.
     
       To the left and right, the land of Blast stretched out to incalculable distances. Here and there he thought he saw the gray smudges of a few lazy dust-devils, but that was all. He looked behind him: far off and to his right lay the sea of dunes that rose on either side of the road to Ymeer. Nothing extraordinary. What had the traveler fellow said in his dream? An adventure? Not likely.
     
       Last and most reluctantly, Gribly turned back towards the city. Its four high walls pushed up from the desert as if they had always been there. They were the same color and texture as the land around them, with a tower at each corner built out of the same material. It was a strange sight from out here. Gribly had been outside the walls a few times, but never so far or for so long. He had never had a reason.
     
       But what to do now? Old Murie was dead and he had buried her himself. He had nowhere to go except back to the streets, which was something he had promised himself never to do. He was a good thief and could make his living there, for sure, but most of Ymeer’s underworld were true criminals; hard-bitten, vicious men (and some women) he could never befriend or compete with.
     
       Could he brave the desert? No, not a chance. Not unless…
     
       An idea formed in his mind and quickly took hold of it. Gribly began the long, slow walk back to the city,