Sand of the Soul

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  For the first time since hearing of the Children of Ibrandul’s failure, Ciredor’s sly smile returned.

  “There is no risk when your faith is strong,” he informed the priest.

  The Lurker gazed at him in frightened adoration.

  “You truly would risk everything for your god,” he said in quiet awe.

  “Most certainly,” the necromancer replied easily. “Oh, before I go,” he added almost as an afterthought, “you might want to get someone to tidy up your study.”

  Before the priest could comment, Ciredor faded from view and reappeared only a few feet from Tazi.

  “If this will save Fannah, then it’s worth it,” Tazi murmured.

  “Who did you say?” the elderly woman asked.

  Tazi didn’t realize the other woman had heard her.

  “Nothing of importance,” Tazi dismissed the subject, suddenly distracted herself. She felt an odd chill pass over her. “What I do, I do for a friend.”

  The older Calishite appeared suddenly distressed and wouldn’t let the matter pass.

  “Did you say ‘Fannah’?” she asked in a scratchy whisper.

  “Yes,” Tazi answered and was suddenly suspicious that her friend’s name should mean something to the withered woman in front of her. “What does it matter?”

  Tazi didn’t believe it was possible, but even more creases formed on the woman’s brow.

  “It’s just that—” the woman began, but stopped when a Gray Caller slowly moved past them.

  The hooded figure swung its head in the Calishite’s direction, and she snapped her mouth shut.

  “What’s wrong?” Tazi asked.

  “Nothing,” the old woman replied. “We’ve struck our price. Now, what was it again that you wanted to know?”

  Tazi took a deep breath and asked, “What is Ciredor planning?”

  “Then I shall tell you, treasure given for treasure received.

  “Ciredor,” the Calishite answered gravely, “has been collecting souls as an offering. They are a dark gift for Shar, his goddess.”

  “Where is he keeping them?” she asked quickly.

  Tazi wasn’t sure but she thought the old woman looked sad.

  “The deal is done,” the woman replied. “One item bought with another. Those are the rules. Now you must leave.”

  Even as the words escaped the Calishite’s lips, Tazi noticed the ethereal condition of the market beginning to spread and grow. Everything became murkier, and all the sound damped as the fog encompassed the cavern. A cold breeze passed over Tazi, and she shuddered. Her hand rose up to her throat instinctively, and she was suddenly filled with dread. Even the old woman looked momentarily startled. Still, Tazi tried to talk to her.

  “Please,” she pleaded, “tell me what you can. I’ll give anything to save Fannah.”

  The Calishite was barely distinguishable from the miasma that occluded the whole market. She raised a hand toward Tazi and called out to her.

  The sound was all but swallowed up by the mist, but two words made it through: “Fannah,” and, “… daughter.”

  Tazi finally placed where she had seen such birdlike gestures before. Fannah made them as well.

  “Ibina il’Qun!” Tazi shouted against the vapors, but Fannah’s mother, along with the Dark Bazaar itself, had vanished.

  Tazi found herself staring at a rock wall.

  Ciredor had expertly transported himself to the tunnel his scrying had revealed as the precise location of the Dark Bazaar and Thazienne Uskevren.

  “How easy this all is, little Tazi. You can’t hide from me in my mistress’s domain,” he said confidently.

  Ciredor was deep in the Muzad, in the same chamber as the Dark Bazaar. The mist was thick and whispered to the dark mage. He moved through it and thought he heard Tazi just a little ahead of him, but with every step he took the fog swirled more and more forcefully. He could see vague outlines and hear the low murmur of conversation, but nothing was clear to him.

  As he approached what from a few feet away looked like a congregation of people, Ciredor found that he had merely passed through a collection of shadows. He knew they were near, but everything was just out of his reach. The necromancer started to grow impatient.

  “Why won’t you illuminate the way?” he beseeched the ether.

  Almost on cue, a light glowed dimly off to his left. His confidence returned, and he licked his lips in expectation. He knew with unerring certainty that that was the direction he was supposed to go.

  “Thank you, Shar,” he whispered reverently.

  Ciredor nearly flew toward the light, but as soon as he reached it the glow winked out only to reappear to his right, just a few steps away.

  It must be my excitement, he told himself. It has me dizzy.

  He adjusted his course and went to the glow’s new location, but just as before the fickle light disappeared only to be found behind him. He whirled around, his fury growing.

  “What trickery is this?” he demanded.

  He attempted to scry the light, but every effort he made failed.

  Finally, the radiance glowed softly within a tiny pocket of the chamber and he followed it grudgingly. The closer he got to it, the more the contents of the grotto were illuminated. From a short distance away, he thought he saw Tazi talking to another woman but the scene was blurry, as though Ciredor were watching something transpire underwater.

  He could barely discern the two shadowy figures, though he knew something had changed hands between them. He wasted no time. Ciredor stormed into the middle of the tableau and made a lunge for Tazi, but his hands passed clean through the woman, and that image flashed out of existence just like the will ’o the wisp that had led him on the fruitless chase.

  Ciredor pounded his fist into the wall behind the trading stall and shouted in fury. The whispering grew louder, and as he stepped from the grotto into the center of the foggy maelstrom, the sounds were all around him, tantalizingly close, but he could see no one.

  Ciredor spun around the chamber and howled in rage. The scream echoed on and on.

  CHAPTER 10

  RETURN TO THE TUNNELS

  “There you are,” Steorf called to Tazi in a relieved tone.

  “What?” she asked, completely disorientated.

  Tazi turned from the rock wall and saw Steorf standing beside her. There was no trace of the entrance to the Night Market anywhere. Steorf laid his hand on her arm with some concern.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he inquired.

  Tazi stared at him with no comprehension on her face.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  Steorf looked at her closely and explained, “I want to come with you. I don’t want you to do this with only that thing as your guide.”

  He motioned to the space behind Tazi and the realization dawned on Steorf that the Gray Caller was gone.

  “Where did he go?” Steorf demanded, adding, “I knew there was something wrong.”

  “How long have I been gone?” she inquired.

  “Gone?” Steorf repeated in a perplexed tone. “You turned away from me just a moment ago.”

  “I’ve been there already,” she told him, finally understanding his confusion. “I must have wandered for hours in the Dark Bazaar.”

  “Are you sure you were really there?” Steorf wondered with a touch of skepticism.

  “Yes, and I know what Ciredor is planning,” she told him single-mindedly. “I still don’t know exactly where he is, but I have a fairly good idea. We need to go … now.”

  Tazi could see that he was still a little confused.

  Remember, she told herself, he’s still recovering from that battle and hasn’t caught up with me. I’ve had time to rest.

  “We need to return to the Temple of Ibrandul immediately and free Fannah,” she told him.

  “You know what Ciredor wants?” he challenged.

  “Like Eb told us, he’s taking souls. Now we know why: he’
s taking them to give as a gift to Shar.”

  “The spiders … the aranea …” Steorf murmured.

  “What about them?” Tazi inquired, curious but clearly anxious to be on the move.

  “I noticed they all bore the same symbol. I knew I should have recognized it then. The black disc rimmed in purple is Shar’s holy symbol,” he explained, then grew quiet.

  “I know you’re tired, but we need to get back as soon as we can,” she prompted him.

  “What should we do about Asraf?” Steorf asked, pointing to the dead novice’s body.

  Tazi was ashamed to acknowledge to herself that she had forgotten Asraf’s noble sacrifice. She glanced down at his young face and was momentarily saddened. When she looked at Steorf, she knew exactly what he was thinking and what he was willing to try, regardless of the cost to himself. She touched his face fleetingly.

  “No,” she told him, shaking her head, “we can’t do anything for him other than respect his wishes. He felt this was what his god wanted and demanded of him and we have to honor it.”

  With that, she knelt and carefully wrapped Asraf’s jellaba over his body.

  As soon as she stood up, Steorf made a pass with his hand and ignited the Child of Ibrandul’s body. Unlike the spider he’d burned earlier, this fire left no odor. Both Tazi and Steorf maintained a solemn silence as the flames lit the chamber. Finally, Steorf broke the stillness.

  “That’s another one Ciredor owes us,” he vowed.

  “Let’s stop him before there can be any others,” Tazi replied.

  Tazi and Steorf made a thorough check of the cavern and retrieved all their weapons. When they were sure they had everything, they started back the way they had come. Nevertheless, they both noticed rapidly that without the Children of Ibrandul to aid them the journey back was more tricky.

  “I hate to admit it,” Tazi said, “but it was a little easier with those Children and their Dark Path spells.”

  In response to that, Steorf cast a minor spell of his own that illuminated his right hand. The radiance it cast was enough for them to see for about six feet around.

  “I can cast a brighter one,” Steorf informed Tazi.

  “I know you can,” she reassured him, “but I don’t want to overtax you just for this. Besides those two novices lurking about, who knows what else might cross our path?”

  Steorf agreed. They left the mortuarylike tunnel and very cautiously re-entered the large cavern that was glowing with phosphorescent lichen. Tazi half-expected the remaining two Children of Ibrandul to ambush them there, but the chamber appeared empty.

  “It figures those cowards would scurry back to their den,” Steorf commented.

  “Either they thought those aranea would finish us off, or,” Tazi continued thoughtfully, “they might have run back to inform the Lurker or even Ciredor that we survived.”

  “Who knows what we might be walking back into?” Steorf pointed out.

  “One thing’s certain,’ Tazi commented, “it won’t be a pleasant reunion.”

  “Did you have any doubt?” Steorf asked with a touch of sarcasm.

  “You were right,” she grudgingly admitted. “We shouldn’t have trusted them. Happy now?”

  “Ecstatic,” Steorf deadpanned.

  The two exited the chamber and began the daunting task of remembering the route they had taken, only in reverse. Tazi was certain that Steorf wasn’t any surer of the route than she was. They tried to pool their recollections.

  “Which way?” Steorf asked at one of the first junctions they came to.

  Tazi studied both routes and closed her eyes momentarily. When she opened them, she regarded Steorf with a modicum of embarrassment.

  “I’m not sure,” she told him. “Dark!” she shouted at nothing in particular and kicked a small pile of rocks.

  The sound echoed down the tunnels mournfully.

  “Not only am I not sure which path to chose, I also made a horrible mistake at the Dark Bazaar,” she chided herself.

  Steorf laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “You found out Ciredor’s plan,” he reminded her. “Now we have a much better idea what we’re up against.”

  She looked at him briefly and averted her eyes.

  “Yes, I did discover that, but I should have thought out my question more carefully. If I had been clever, I would have found a way to ask his plan and his location. I paid dearly, and we’re not really any better off than before.”

  She absently rubbed her bare finger.

  “You might have asked more carefully,” he agreed, “and by the time you and I reunited, Ciredor might have changed positions. I think you did the best you could, given the situation. You can do everything right, and sometimes it isn’t enough. However, sometimes it is.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, not sounding convinced. “The only thing I will admit is that the journey to the Night Market was useful. Perhaps more so than the bargain I struck while I was there. If we hadn’t made the attempt, we would never have found out the truth about the Children of Ibrandul. Who knows what might have happened then? I do have something rather amazing to tell Fannah when we get back to her.”

  “What is it?” Steorf asked, intrigued.

  Tazi started to explain her meeting with Fannah’s mother, but before she could finish, a scuttling resonated in the tunnel a short distance away. Tazi and Steorf froze in their tracks. Each looked at the other, and they drew their weapons in silent unison, immediately on guard. They continued in the direction they thought was the correct way back but also searched for the source of the sounds.

  The rats found them soon enough.

  Larger than the rodents Tazi had seen many times scurrying around the docks of Selgaunt Bay grabbing at scraps of fish, these subterranean creatures were a sickly white and, Tazi guessed, partially blind. Of the fifteen or so in the pack, a few hurried away at the scent of her and Steorf, but most held their ground, and some even swarmed at them.

  “Back, curs,” Steorf shouted.

  He managed to fend off a few as he thrust his glowing hand in their faces. Tazi could hear them squeal in pain and rage. She herself dispatched two right off, easily spearing one on each of her two guardblades. A third, however, slipped past her weapons and viciously tore at her ankle with its razor-sharp incisors.

  “Bastard,” Tazi hissed, more out of rage than pain.

  She kicked at it, and the animal, almost as large as a dog, was flipped into the air and struck the tunnel partition. The rat’s skull split open, and the dying creature spasmed on the ground.

  No sooner had the rat’s blood begun to spill then three other albino monstrosities turned on their packmate and began to tear it apart. The squeals of both the dying and the feeding rats nearly reached a deafening pitch. One ran off with a large chunk of rodent flesh clamped firmly in its jaws. In its place, two others fought for position in the feeding frenzy.

  “Back away!” Steorf yelled to Tazi, who had been watching the spectacle with morbid fascination.

  The moment she was clear, Steorf ignited the horde of rodents. Those that hadn’t yet reached the cannibalistic banquet ran in every direction from the intense heat and light emitted by the bonfire.

  “I’m growing a little tired of all the roasting today,” Tazi joked as she massaged her ankle while leaning against the wall.

  “How badly did it bite you?” Steorf asked as he reached her side.

  Tazi flashed a rueful grin.

  “I’m sure the beastie left me a nice bruise, but the tough hide of my boot kept it from puncturing my skin.”

  She plucked out a lone tooth that had been embedded in her boot and flicked it away with distaste.

  “I wonder what else lives down here?” Steorf pondered.

  “I hope we don’t find out. This way, I think,” Tazi said, pointing to her left.

  She stood up, and they continued along the winding path.

  Over time, Tazi and Steorf started to notice that they wer
e subtly ascending with every turn they made. There weren’t any other rats or spiders in the various tunnels through which they passed. Tazi took it as a good sign, though they kept their weapons drawn the whole time.

  “How much longer do you think?” Steorf asked her.

  “I’m not sure, but I think we’re fairly close,” she replied. “Do you think there might be any wards set up to alarm the Children of Ibrandul if we get too close? They’ve got to be expecting us.”

  “Good question. I would assume there’s always the chance. I’ll keep an eye out for them,” he assured her.

  “Then again, they might think that any one of the myriad creatures that live down here might be enough to do us in,” she remarked.

  “Not a chance,” Steorf told her easily. “It will take a lot more than a few vermin to—”

  Tazi turned to see what had caused Steorf to stop speaking so suddenly, but he was nowhere to be seen in the dim light.

  “Steorf?” she called worriedly and almost didn’t see the pit that had suddenly opened up in front of her.

  At the last minute, she caught herself right before she would have plunged over the side, arms pinwheeling frantically.

  Carefully kneeling by the edge of the precipice, Tazi looked down. About fifteen feet below, she could see Steorf dangling by one hand. He had managed to snag a small crack in the wall. Another fifteen feet farther down Tazi was able to make out several large stalagmites that had been sharpened to razor points easily capable of impaling a human.

  “Hang on!” she shouted to Steorf.

  “Do I have a choice?” was his reply.

  She pulled a length of cord from one of the pouches on her leather pants. Tying one end to a stalagmite near her, she called out to Steorf, “Eyes sharp. Here it comes.”

  Steorf squinted up and saw the thin cord dangling a foot away from him. With his one free hand, he wound it several times around his arm and shouted, “Ready?”

  Tazi held the cord with her left arm, passed the excess behind her waist, and held onto the remainder of rope with her right.

  She dug in her heals and replied, “Got you.”