Sand of the Soul

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  “The woman’s burly young companion attempted to attack the Child of Ibrandul with magical means. Of course,” the priest added, excited that his words were having a pleasing effect on his patron, “that was to no avail.”

  “Not in this sanctum,” Ciredor agreed. “What was the outcome?”

  “The beast had to resort to physical combat on an opponent much weaker than himself.” The Lurker shook his head in distaste. “In fact, the man turned quite savage in the end, and his woman had to pull him away.”

  “They haven’t changed,” Ciredor chuckled, and the Lurker wasn’t sure if the laugh was for his benefit or not.

  “And the woman also let slip that she was carrying on her person several scrolls that she had stolen from you.”

  Ciredor only nodded slowly at this revelation.

  “That is the only thing that concerns me,” the priest added. “I am not sure that we will be able to recover those.”

  “Why not?” Ciredor asked, but the Lurker saw that he was not unduly distressed.

  “Those two muzha-dahyarifs are on their way to a most fitting end. Several of the Children of Ibrandul, including the novice who was beaten by the young mage, are as we speak leading them into a trap deep within the tunnels of the Muzad,” the Lurker explained. “There I am sure they will discover what it means to have betrayed the Skulking God.”

  “I know they will,” Ciredor quietly agreed, “and don’t be too concerned about the scrolls they have. I might have made copies of some of the writings elsewhere. What of their Calishite companion?” he added and the Lurker thought Ciredor was almost anxious.

  “She is quite safe, Lord,” the priest reassured him. “We were able to separate her almost immediately from her foreign companions. She is in a chamber located just beyond our main hall.”

  “Wonderful,” he replied.

  “She has been very acquiescent since she was separated from her companions,” the Lurker noted, “and she knows several of the Children of Ibrandul from her own youth.”

  He himself had been amazed by that discovery.

  “Why should that surprise you?” Ciredor keenly noticed.

  “I’m astonished that a Calishite could be so easily deceived, I suppose,” the priest admitted. “For all purposes, this young woman is every bit at home amongst us and yet she was traveling in their company.”

  “Try to understand,” Ciredor explained easily, “that those two from Selgaunt are very persuasive. Fannah had been traveling with me some time ago in Sembia as I searched for the lost words when we became separated. She fell into some minor danger and the Sembian woman, Thazienne, took advantage of the situation.”

  “What happened?” the Lurker asked.

  This was the most verbose his benefactor had ever been, and the priest was enthralled.

  “Thazienne picked Fannah out of a crowd, an obvious foreigner and unfamiliar with the commercial ways of the people of Selgaunt, and made arrangements for several of her less than reputable friends to ‘attack’ Fannah so that Thazienne could then conveniently rescue her. While Fannah is a very astute young woman, she is far too trusting at times.”

  “I am sure that will improve with age,” the Lurker added. “When she approaches my age and has more experiences with life, as you and I have had, I am sure she will be much wiser for it.”

  Ciredor broke into a wide smile at the priest’s theories and the Lurker was pleased that he was finally connecting with the man he knew would change the worship of Ibrandul forever.

  “But I have interrupted you,” the Lurker noticed.

  “There is not much more to my story,” Ciredor continued. “Fannah, being the pure soul that she is, felt a great deal of gratitude to Thazienne. My understanding is Thazienne used her hired mage to befuddle Fannah, and she inadvertently ended up giving those two the location of some of the scrolls we had saved from the greedy merchants of Selgaunt.”

  The Lurker hissed at that.

  “Horrible to contemplate,” Ciredor agreed, “and Thazienne would have dearly loved to have gotten her hands on all our words. I’m sure visions of jewels and immeasurable fortune were dancing in her head when she saw the collection on your dais.”

  “That will never happen” the Lurker promised solemnly, and Ciredor smiled again.

  “You have done an excellent job protecting the sacred words. The only thing that we need to do is await the Foreshadowing that is less than a tenday away,” the mage proclaimed.

  “The time of the new moon,” the Lurker said in a reverent voice.

  “Yes,” replied Ciredor. “That time when the Land Above is pitch black …”

  “And we celebrate Ibrandul’s promise to envelope the Lands Above and Below in utter darkness,” the priest finished for Ciredor.

  He could feel his heart beat more quickly at the thought of the upcoming ritual.

  “Fannah may have fallen away from her roots,” Ciredor added, “but she will play a pivotal role in the Foreshadowing. I would prefer that she be kept cloistered away until that time,” he instructed.

  “Don’t you wish to see her?” the Lurker questioned.

  “I would prefer if she had some time alone,” Ciredor explained. “That way, she may be able to purge the effects the Sembians have had on her. Surrounded as she is by the familiar smells and touch of her home, I believe she will come to her senses without any magical intervention.”

  “Everything will be done as you request,” the priest told him. Ciredor smiled at his fealty.

  “I knew when I first met you,” Ciredor added, “that I had found the true home for Ibrandul’s lost words. This Foreshadowing will be like none other.”

  “Is that when you will read to us from the scrolls?” the Lurker nearly begged the mage.

  “I will do that and so much more,” Ciredor promised.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE DEEPEST TUNNEL

  “Stay close,” Tazi whispered.

  The near total darkness of the tunnel made her cautious. She felt her way along the wall.

  “I’m beside you,” Steorf replied. “Are the Children of Ibrandul behind us?”

  Before Tazi had a chance to answer him, a large shadow slithered ahead of them. Tazi felt something hairy lightly brush against her extended hand. She froze in her tracks and threw her other arm protectively across Steorf’s chest.

  “There’s something in here with us,” she warned him.

  “Then let’s see how well my sorcery works down here,” Steorf nearly growled.

  He shook off Tazi’s shielding grip and raised both his hands, and Tazi could tell by the sound of his voice that he was thrilled to exercise his powers. A few words escaped his lips and dazzling light enveloped his hands. The light seeped from his fingers, and the tunnel was illuminated by radiance as bright as the morning sun.

  The glare from Steorf’s hands showed that the tunnel went on for about fifty feet beyond where they were standing. The rock was unremarkable. There was nothing to set the tunnel apart from the many others they had traversed, except that this one had other occupants; other, rather large occupants.

  Just a few steps away from Tazi and Steorf crawled a dozen spiders. Each one was nearly as wide as Steorf was tall. Some stood on the floor as Tazi and Steorf did, but a few scuttled up the cavern walls.

  That wasn’t the end of it. Tazi watched in amazement as several of the largest spiders transformed into drow before her eyes. One was something in between an arachnid and a dark elf. Without any further warning, the pack of creatures fell on them.

  Tazi turned with a scream and ran from the closest spider. From the corner of her eye she could see Steorf wearing an expression of shocked disbelief at her flight. She didn’t have time to worry about that. One of the largest spiders ran after her, just as she had expected and hoped it would. After covering only a few feet, Tazi started to tumble to the ground. The spider descended on her.

  As Tazi struck the ground, she tucked herself into a ball and rolled f
orward. As she did so, she freed the dagger in her right boot. When the spider landed on her, Tazi was just finishing her roll. That brought her face up directly under the center of the beast with her blade drawn. The momentum of the roll helped her to thrust the blade directly into the spider’s belly and slash it fiercely.

  Black blood flowed from the wound Tazi inflicted, and she instinctively knew those fluids were just as deadly, if not more so, than the spider itself.

  Tazi moved away from the twitching monster as fast as she could and tossed her soiled dagger away. She withdrew both of her guardblades with a fierce shout.

  “One dead,” she called to Steorf.

  There was no time for congratulatory remarks as both of them were immediately caught up in heated struggles. Tazi found herself surrounded by three spiders, and Steorf had to contend with several drow.

  Tazi brandished her right guardblade at two of the spiders and flipped the left one up so that she held the sword like a javelin. With one powerful toss, she threw the weapon and impaled the other spider against the wall. It screamed and wiggled to no benefit. The point of Tazi’s blade was wedged tight into a crevice. The animal’s squeals started to increase as its weight slowly pulled its body down while the blade was held fast.

  The noises stopped abruptly as the spider’s head was sliced up the center by the sword. Tazi dispatched the other two fairly easily.

  They must be the front lines, she correctly guessed.

  She could see that Steorf had his hands full with the drow. She observed him as he grabbed the one closest to him and hit her in the face with the palm of his hand. Tazi was surprised that he was leading with his fists and not his magic.

  Perhaps he doesn’t want to make the same mistake that he did with the dog, she concluded. Or he’s enjoying this.

  As in the Temple of Ibrandul, Tazi heard the snap of bone but was startled when the drow Steorf had struck fell over dead. Then she realized Steorf must have shoved the elf’s nose bone directly into her brain. He turned to another drow and slammed him into a wall, crushing his skull. The third drow proved a little more elusive, skipping just out of the human’s reach.

  “Fine,” Steorf snarled, and released a bolt of magic.

  The discharge passed through the drow and blasted away a portion of the wall behind the elf. Steorf watched as the figure winked out of existence—then he felt himself smashed in the back of the head by a wave of force. He turned to see the same drow now standing behind him.

  “So,” he called out, “you know some magic, do you?”

  “I know more than enough to kill the likes of you,” the drow taunted.

  “We’ll see,” Steorf replied as he wiped a small trail of blood from his mouth.

  Tazi started to join him when several more spiders dropped in front of her.

  “Think you can stop me, stupid creatures?” Tazi mocked them.

  She slashed at one of them, and it died straight away, but when Tazi turned to the others she realized the first spider had only been buying time for its comrades. The other two transformed into drow in front of her. Both of the dark elves drew their own blades.

  Tazi knew she was in for a real battle. She vaguely thought that the Children of Ibrandul would even up the numbers and wondered where they were. She couldn’t believe they were turning out to be so incompetent.

  Neither Tazi nor Steorf could see Asraf running down the tunnel toward them. Before he could reach either of them, he was set upon by the hybrid creature. It stood only a little taller than Asraf and had two pairs of eyes, one set where a human would normally have them and a second pair higher on its temple. As well as having a pair of human arms, the creature had three pair of spider limbs along its side, beneath its humanlike arms. Each finger on its eight hands had an additional joint as well as fully functional spinnerets. A vicious set of fangs protruded from its human mouth.

  It tried to block Asraf from coming any farther down the tunnel, not attacking him outright. Clicks and moans escaped from the dark elf head as it spread its spider arms, barring the Child of Ibrandul’s way. Asraf feinted to the left and tried to slip past the half drow-half spider, but one of his arms was caught by several of the hybrid’s hairy claws.

  Terrified, Asraf pulled his scimitar from its scabbard and chopped off three of the clawlike hands that held his left arm. The hybrid screamed in rage and pain and lunged at Asraf.

  But the Child of Ibrandul, over his momentary fright, confidently decapitated the beast with one stroke. He pulled off the two claws that were still clinging to his robe and ran to help Tazi and Steorf.

  Tazi had underestimated just how cunning the two drow were. They managed to slowly turn her away from Steorf’s direction. As one dark elf stabbed at Tazi, the other slipped behind her, changed back into a spider, and began to spin webbing furiously across part of the tunnel. When the drow saw that his companion had gotten enough strands across the passageway, he dropped his knife.

  Tazi wasn’t sure why he had done it, but she wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. She neatly ran him through and turned to help Steorf. She darted directly into the cleverly placed webbing and found herself trapped.

  Every part of her that touched the web, whether it was skin or clothing, was held fast.

  “Damn,” she screamed.

  Her struggling made her entrapment worse. She still had her guardblade drawn in her right hand, but it did no good. Through the spaces between the webbing, Tazi could see that Steorf was locked in a deadly battle with one of the more magically adept drow—and he was losing.

  She tugged harder at the ropes and only further tired herself. Tazi was close to weeping tears of frustration. All she could do was helplessly watch Steorf die.

  A chattering sound above Tazi made her look up as best she could. The other drow-turned-spider was sliding its way down to her on a cord no wider than her thumb. Tazi could vaguely see herself reflected in the two black orbs that were the creature’s eyes as it hung suspended above her. She uselessly fought one last time against the silken restraints. She could hear its fangs clicking and feel a bristly arm push her head sideways against the web.

  “Just get it over with!” she screamed to the creature, and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She felt a sharp sting as its pointed tooth punctured her neck, and heat began to radiate outward from the wound.

  “Tazi!” Asraf cried from out of nowhere and slashed at the webbing imprisoning her.

  Tazi felt her sword arm fall free, and even though the rest of her body was still stuck, she wasted no time. She swung her arm straight up in front of her and the webbing to skewer the spider.

  It fell, shrieking in its death throes.

  Tazi smiled grimly, and Asraf cut her completely free.

  “Glad to see you,” she said, flashing him a quick grin as she bent over to pull her blade free of the spider. She felt a little dizzy straightening up.

  Asraf smiled in return but he noticed she was covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

  “Did the aranea bite you?” he asked worriedly, inspecting Tazi closely.

  Tazi didn’t get the chance to answer him. Another spider slid toward them.

  Asraf shoved Tazi away from the remaining strands of arachnid silk and shouted, “I’ll take care of this last one. Steorf needs you.”

  Tazi hesitated for a moment. There was a strange sensation in her throat, both numb and burning at the same time. She absently rubbed at the spider scratch below her chin, trying to collect her thoughts.

  No, she corrected herself, not a spider, an “aranea.” I wonder if Steorf knows about them?

  The mage’s name began to reverberate in her head, and she marveled at how she could have forgotten his quandary, even for a moment. She turned to face the other section of the chamber and saw that the drow had Steorf pinned to the ground and was drawing his sword for a killing blow.

  “No!” Tazi yelled with a voice that sounded torn from her soul.

  She ran as fast as
she could over to the drow and was terrified to feel how unsteady she already was on her feet.

  I can’t believe that little scratch is taking its toll on me, she thought.

  Steorf had strained his skills beyond belief. The drow had matched him spell for spell and had inexorably forced him to the ground.

  Caught up in the struggle, the young mage was surprised to find himself distracted by the smallest minutiae, as if his mind refused to accept his impending doom even as his body surrendered. He noticed that emblazoned on the drow’s tunic was a black disc bordered by purple.

  “What is that symbol?” he whispered even as the drow’s shield spell crushed him to the ground, realizing that he had seen the mark on every dark elf and every spider there.

  “Take a good look. It’s the last thing you will ever see,” the drow spat back snidely and, with a wicked grin, raised his sword high.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Tazi retorted.

  Even in his compromised position, Steorf was able to recognize the weakness in her voice.

  The startled drow could only stare down in stunned disbelief as he watched the point of Tazi’s guardblade burst free from his chest. She had deftly impaled his heart in one stroke.

  He had only enough time to partially turn his head at the sound of her angry voice and glimpse her ominous sea-green eyes before toppling over like a felled tree. The dark elf struck the ground, hitting so hard he nearly forced Tazi’s blade back out.

  Steorf, free of the dark creature’s enchanted restraints, looked up at her gratefully.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” he teased her.

  He held out his hand—joking—as if he needed help to rise, but Tazi didn’t say a word, and Steorf could see that she was sweating profusely. He wasted no time scrambling to his feet.

  Tazi’s vision doubled and doubled again before finally clouding over completely. She could feel herself swaying and knew there was nothing she could do about it. She dragged a hand uselessly across her eyes.

  “Steorf,” she slurred and started to reach out toward him with her other hand.