The night arrived before anyone realized it.
From the balloon, Pepe's amplified voice echoed over the improvised camp in the middle of nowhere.
"Everyone stop! You will rest exactly where you are. You are allowed to stretch your legs, but anyone who advances more than fifty meters will be disqualified. We have lost twenty participants."
I let myself fall off the horse like a sack of potatoes. My whole body hurt. Gilbert approached with a sour face and looked me up and down.
"You suck at riding horses. Did you never learn in your homeland?"
I lied on instinct.
"No."
(Actually, Eli forced me to practice for weeks… but I never thought I would need it in a desert.)
Gilbert clicked his tongue.
"I'm going to teach you. If we keep going like this we'll finish last again. Zack and I know how to ride. If you learn the basics tonight, tomorrow we can fight for the top spots."
He turned toward the balloon.
"Pepe! I want to teach him how to ride. Do we have permission?"
The small figure with the huge afro stuck his head out.
"Accepted. But go back a full kilometer and practice there. I don't want any cheating."
I got angry.
"Why does he decide? You're the referee!"
"Precisely because I'm the referee," Pepe replied in a bored tone. "Less than a kilometer. Now."
There was no choice. We took Leila, who was more excited about the idea of "training with Master" than worried about the fatigue, and spent the entire night practicing under the light of the torches. By the time the sky began to lighten, my legs were trembling and my pride hurt more than my backside.
◇◇◇
In a luxurious room in the capital, far from the desert, a middle-aged man stirred his tea with feigned elegance.
Figaro Noah Fredman, second son of a viscount house, current head of the family after a "convenient trap" ended his older brother's life. Defeated candidate for prime minister. And, in secret, one of the best-paid infiltrators of the Phantom Troop.
In front of him, four tall, thin figures remained motionless. Long limbs wrapped in dirty bandages, bodies covered by sand-colored robes, and red masks with a single curved horn. The Four Celestial Kings of the Desert. Members of the Kurdan clan, assassins born and raised in those lands forgotten by the maps.
"The leader wants Razel Bartlet dead," Figaro said in a soft voice. "I want him dead too. Every time that brat breathes, my path to the position of prime minister becomes more complicated. Bring me his head and the money I promised you will be doubled. Besides… the Troop will remember who solved their problem."
The tallest of the four slightly tilted his mask.
"We accept the payment. Do we go all four or just one?"
"It's a single target," the group's leader replied. "One is enough."
Figaro smiled.
"Make it public. I want every member of the Troop to see who eliminated him. I need that influence."
The leader nodded.
"Zurk will handle it. It will be… a spectacle."
◇
Morning arrived far too soon.
Breakfast was quick and silent. Gilbert chewed dry bread while staring at the horizon.
"The city is twelve normal hours away. We have to do it in half that time. We must arrive before it gets dark."
Zack adjusted the straps of his mount.
"From now on the path stops being solid ground. Only sand."
"It doesn't matter," Gilbert replied. "These horses were trained specifically to cross the desert."
Then he looked at me.
"How are you?"
My eyes were wide open. I hadn't slept even five consecutive minutes. Every time I closed my eyelids I saw the ground rushing toward me at full speed.
"Terrible."
Leila, beside me, yawned, showing her fangs.
"Leila didn't sleep either… the horse moved too much."
Zack shouted at us from his mount:
"You're terrible at riding! That's why you couldn't sleep!"
Gilbert was slapping himself to stay awake.
"Doesn't matter," I said, mounting with more difficulty than I wanted to admit. "First we win. Then we sleep."
Everyone nodded.
Pepe shouted again from the balloon. They had watched all night. Five people tried to advance in secret. They were kicked out without mercy.
The competition resumed.
We set off from the back, pushing our way through the sand and dust.
◇◇◇
Everything was going relatively well until the wind changed.
From the top of a distant dune, a masked figure observed the group of riders. Zurk, the chosen one of the Four Celestial Kings, extended both arms.
"Sand magic… Full manifestation."
A storm began to form. It was not natural. The wind spun in the opposite direction from normal, lifting tons of sand that turned into an ever taller and denser whirlwind. The sky took on a dirty yellow color.
Leila was the first to notice it.
"Master! Over there!"
I turned my head and felt a chill.
"A sandstorm… just what we needed."
Zack frowned.
"It's strange. These only form with strong constant winds. There's none here."
Then something gleamed inside the whirlwind. A sharp projectile shot out and buried itself in the neck of a nearby participant's horse. The animal fell and the rider rolled across the sand.
"Something flew out!" someone shouted.
Leila narrowed her eyes.
"Inside the whirlwind… there's someone."
Zack spat to the side.
"It must be one of the Four Kings of the Desert. They came to rob us… or kill us."
I couldn't help a bitter laugh.
"They couldn't be more cliché."
I shouted toward the balloon:
"Pepe! This is an external attack!"
The referee's voice answered with absolute indifference while he picked his nose:
"Not my problem. No one guarantees that things like this won't happen. Deal with it without getting off your horses or you'll be disqualified."
"You're the worst!"
The whirlwind was already too close. The sand lashed our faces with enough force to cut skin.
"Split up!" Gilbert ordered.
We obeyed. Each of us took a different direction to try to go around it and continue toward the goal. But the whirlwind changed course with an intelligence only a human would have and headed straight for me.
"You've got to be kidding…"
I launched three consecutive Lightning Spears. The bolts pierced the wall of sand… and dispersed without dealing any visible damage.
A voice distorted by the wind came from inside the whirlwind:
"Useless. Resign yourself to dying."
A "window" opened in the wall of sand. I saw a tall man, wrapped in bandages and wearing the red single-horned mask, walking with complete naturalness in the center of the storm. Every step he took brought the whirlwind a little closer. My horse began to slip, its hind legs being dragged toward the spinning void.
Zack and Gilbert tried to approach, but it was too late.
The horse lost its balance. Both of us were sucked in.
Inside the whirlwind the world became chaos. We spun without control. The sand hit me from every direction, trying to tear me from the saddle. I clung to the reins with one hand and to the horse's neck with the other. The pressure increased. It felt as if I were being crushed from all sides.
Zurk floated in front of me, completely stable, laughing.
"You will die crushed by the sand! This is the power of the Celestial Kings of the Desert!"
Despite the pain, I smiled.
"Thanks for the help."
I concentrated all the mana I could into my free palm and activated Impact at point-blank range against the wall of sand that was compressing me.
The internal explosion was dull and violent. The pressure broke for an instant. I used that second to push off with my legs, still mounted, and launch myself toward Zurk inside the same whirlwind.
The assassin did not expect someone to move with such aggression in his own domain. I managed to graze him with another Lightning Spear at close range. The discharge made him stagger and the stability of the tornado cracked.
"Now!"
I used Impact again, this time not against the sand, but against the air itself, directing the shockwave downward and forward. The horse and I shot out of the whirlwind like a bullet, piercing the wall of sand at the exact moment it began to collapse.
We landed several meters ahead… directly in the leading position of the race.
Behind us, the tornado dissolved into a rain of sand. Zurk was exposed for a second before being swallowed by his own uncontrolled magic.
The race turned into total chaos. Several participants had been dragged or knocked down. Gilbert, Zack, and Leila took advantage of the confusion and charged forward with everything they had, catching up to me in a matter of minutes.
When the horses' hooves touched solid ground on the outskirts of the city, Pepe's voice exploded from the balloon:
"The first ones to arrive are valid! The rest… the last thirty are disqualified!"
Twenty-four participants were eliminated.
With victory secured for our group, Pepe added:
"Tomorrow the official rest day begins. Today you have the afternoon free to prepare. The next stage will be announced by the feudal lord of this city."
◇
All the survivors were gathered in a large hall of the local lord's manor.
The man who received us spoke with impeccable manners and a perfect smile… until his eyes landed on me. The smile tightened by a single millimeter.
His name was Figaro Noah Fredman. I don't understand why he was looking at me like that. Does he not like ugly people?
When he finished his welcome speech, Zack approached and muttered:
"He was staring at you with a nasty look."
"I noticed."
"He's an asshole. Normal."
Figaro raised his voice again:
"The next trial will be considerably harder. You must survive two full days inside the Forest of the Moon, a huge forest not far from here. The rest day is not an act of mercy. It is the time granted to you to gather everything you think necessary. Use it wisely."
The meeting ended. People scattered in search of supplies.
◇◇◇
As soon as the hall was almost empty, Figaro took out a magical communicator and contacted someone.
"Zargan. Why is he still alive?"
The voice on the other end replied with contained annoyance.
"He defeated Zurk. I can't believe it either."
Figaro clenched his teeth.
"This time he will not enter the second trial. Wait one day. If he dies right after the meeting it would be too suspicious. When little time remains before the start… then you will do it. We can blame some hired assassin."
He paused and smiled coldly.
"No one will suspect. We will blame Alexei."
◇
I finished gathering everything I thought necessary: water, dry rations, ropes, basic antidotes, and a couple of extra knives. With the bag over my shoulder I headed to the bar where most of the participants had gathered.
While crossing the street, a mysterious man bumped into me with some force.
"Sorry."
He leveled his arm as if something had stung him and kept walking without looking back.
I stayed for a few seconds watching him. Then my attention shifted to a hooded figure standing at the entrance of the bar. It was a girl, or at least it seemed so. I couldn't see her face, but something about her felt… strange. The smell. It wasn't perfume. It was something deeper, almost animal, but different from Leila.
(Suspicious…)
I said nothing and went inside.
◇◇◇
Several streets away, Jackpot stopped in a dark alley and looked at the small empty vial he had just used.
"The poison is already in one of Baron Olston's servants. He will put it in that brat's drink tonight."
He smiled with arrogance under the moonlight.
"By tomorrow morning… everything will be over."
________________
The fanservice is for Sharon.
https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/11992437