Sand of the Soul

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  “There maybe something that might at least alleviate his suffering somewhat,” Fannah recalled eventually.

  “What is it?” Tazi asked, ready to grasp at any straw offered.

  “Before the worm attacked us,” Fannah explained, “I had been telling Steorf about a plant that we might come across, and I had wanted him to watch for it. It is called the Calim cactus.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “The plant is rather unassuming; growing no more than three to four inches tall, and it provides very little nutrition. But it has an extensive root system that runs several feet across just under the sand.”

  Fannah described the thing deliberately, accurately drawing a mental picture for Tazi with her words.

  “How can this help us?” Tazi asked, a seed of hope growing inside her as she committed the description to memory.

  “What the plant does to trap moisture is raise its roots above the sands and absorb what water there is before pulling them back underground.”

  “So the roots are full of water,” Tazi deduced, growing excited.

  “If we can find some that have buried roots,” Fannah cautioned her. “Only those will have liquid in them.”

  “I will find them,” Tazi swore. “I want you to stay with Steorf in case he needs something.”

  “I don’t know what I can do for him,” Fannah said, slightly flustered.

  “You can be with him,” Tazi explained. “Let him know he’s not alone.”

  Fannah nodded and moved back over to Steorf’s side. She gathered up one of his hands in hers and squeezed it tight. Tazi wasn’t sure what he was aware of at this point. She emptied the sack containing Ciredor’s writings and left them in Fannah’s keeping.

  “I’ll need something to put the roots in,” she told Fannah confidently.

  She stroked Steorf’s forehead, shocked by the heat that radiated from him.

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she promised her two friends.

  “We will be waiting,” Fannah answered.

  Tazi turned and marched off to the west. The sun had reached its apex, and Tazi could feel her arms burn under its glare. With only her leather vest and pants, her arms were near to blistering. She occasionally wiped at her eyes, which had become bitterly painful. As she became more and more dehydrated, she could literally feel her eyes pull back in their sockets. Tazi realized that her orbs were mostly comprised of water and she was losing that at an alarming rate, so her body stole from itself. There was nothing to be done about it other than finding the Calim cactus.

  Part of her rational mind was convinced that they were going to fail. There was no other logical outcome. But deeper down, in her soul, she hadn’t quit, and that was the force that drove her on. It was as though the desert had burned away everything excessive that she carried and left her only her core intact, like a worn stone. The mild winds had smoothed and shaped her and left her determined.

  “That’s why Fannah knew I needed to pass through the ritual successfully,” she said aloud. “Out here, we are nothing but our true selves, whatever they may be.”

  A little farther to the west, Tazi saw what she thought was some scrub and rocks.

  “Please,” she whispered in a voice rapidly becoming hoarse, “let that be real. No more illusions.”

  As she trudged closer, the scrub did not fade from view or remain in the distance. Tazi realized she was actually gaining on it. Heartened, she picked up speed, and soon enough she was in the middle of a small area of brush. Though it was mostly insignificant piles of rocks and quick-moving lizards, there was a little plant life.

  Everything she saw was dead. Tazi slumped down on the ground and dropped her head in defeat. She wanted to scream but didn’t possess the energy.

  Shaking her head, she whispered, “I don’t even have enough water for tears. In the end, I’m not even allowed that.”

  She debated going farther but knew she had reached her limit if she was going to return to her friends.

  “If I’m going to die,” she finally said, “there’s no finer company to be in.”

  She started to rise wearily to her feet when some movement to her right caught her eye. Several speckled lizards darted in and out of a cluster of stones. Almost as though mocking her, one sat on a small boulder and defiantly licked at the moisture on its own eyeball. Tazi toyed with the idea of trying to catch some of them, but tossed the thought aside.

  “Even if I could snare you little demons,” she muttered, “all of you put together wouldn’t make a meal worth the effort.”

  Something about their numbers puzzled her, though. Nowhere else in this little haven had she seen any wildlife.

  “Just what makes that pile of rocks so special,” she wondered aloud, “that you all have to hide there?”

  She moved over to investigate, and the moment her shadow passed over the lizards they scattered in every direction on their spindly legs. She didn’t bother worrying about whether they might be poisonous or not, if any still remained. She simply thrust her hands into the clutch of stones and started moving them around.

  There, nestled in the protective shelter of the gravel, was a small clump of what could only be Calim cacti.

  “Thank you,” she murmured to no one in particular.

  More precious than gold, the group of plants meant possible salvation. Tazi was overjoyed to discover that there was more than one and all of them had submerged roots. She carefully brushed away some of the sand and began to pluck the cacti. They had sharp thorns that tore at her cracked hands but Tazi hardly felt the pain as she pulled out the only desert treasure worth harvesting.

  True to Fannah’s description, the tiny plants had tremendously long roots and Tazi could feel that they were heavy with moisture. She used her sword to hack the roots free from the thorny part of the plants. Tazi then tossed the cactus tops aside and hoped that they might form new root systems.

  “Something for the next lost soul,” she explained to a lone lizard before it skittered away.

  When her sack was full of the priceless fauna, she stood up and started to turn around. One last cactus caught her attention, and she nearly dismissed it as the plant’s roots were fully exposed. From what Fannah had explained, that meant the plant was seeking water and of no use to Tazi—but a strange thought came to her mind.

  “It’s worth a try,” she said as she carefully removed the whole plant.

  She carried this one away from the bag crammed with the engorged roots and started the trek back to her friends. She debated about trying one of the roots on the march back, and though her logical mind argued that it made sense since she had expended so much energy to find them, she found she couldn’t do it knowing that Fannah and Steorf still suffered without water.

  “We’ll all have some soon enough,” she promised to the little voice of reason that nagged her.

  Whether it was because she had simply not accurately kept track of time or her excitement had quickened her pace, Tazi made it back to her friends in short order. Even from a brief distance, one look at Fannah’s face spoke volumes to Tazi. There wasn’t much time left for Steorf. She rushed to their side.

  “Fannah,” her voice cracked, “I found them.”

  “Thank Sharess,” Fannah offered in prayer. “I knew she would show you the way.”

  Tazi found herself tempted to make a joke about Sharess and speckled lizards, but she didn’t. She realized that she wasn’t sure if someone had led her to the plants or not, so instead of insulting any benevolent forces, Tazi dropped her sack in front of Fannah and laid the intact plant beside Steorf.

  “What’s the best way to get the water from them?” she asked.

  Fannah took a chunk of one of the roots and scored it with Tazi’s dagger. It started to bleed water.

  “Hold this with both hands,” she instructed Tazi, “and suck on it. When you can’t get any more liquid out of it, chew up the pulp and extract the last bit of water that way.”


  Tazi took the first piece that Fannah had cut and held it to Steorf’s lips. His face was flushed, and Tazi was alarmed to see that he had stopped perspiring altogether. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond to the liquid Tazi could see rolling into his mouth and she feared the worst.

  She leaned close to his ear and implored, “Please take it, Steorf. I won’t go on without you.”

  She held her breath.

  Slowly, Tazi could see Steorf’s eyes flicker and his tongue gingerly dab at his moistened lips and the strange object he found near his mouth. His eyes opened slightly, and Tazi knew he recognized her. She hadn’t lost him.

  “Don’t talk,” she whispered. “Just keep sucking on this. I’ll explain it all later.”

  She placed his hands onto the plant.

  “Take this,” Fannah told her gently and handed her a section of the root. While Tazi sucked out the life-saving liquid, Fannah asked, “Did you bring any of the little cacti as well?”

  “I thought about it,” Tazi said between slurps, “but, in the end, I left the tops where I found them. I hoped that they might form new roots and continue to grow. That way, they might be there for someone else one day.”

  Her idea sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud.

  I should have taken them for what little food they would have provided, she berated herself.

  Fannah, however, nodded.

  “A wise offering back to the desert,” she complimented her bewildered friend. “You know more about life than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I did bring one plant back intact,” Tazi said quietly, “because I have an idea. You said the cactus uses its roots to suck in moisture, right?”

  Fannah agreed and Tazi could see the same idea now dawn on her friend.

  “I found one that was thirsty,” Tazi continued, “and I’m sure it’s even thirstier now. Maybe the sun has gotten to me, but I’d like to try something.”

  Tazi knew Fannah had grasped her train of thought. She turned to face Steorf.

  “I have an idea that I want to try out,” she explained to him.

  He nodded at her with glazed eyes, not really comprehending what she was saying but simply trusting her.

  Tazi reached for the cactus and gripped the base of the plant with one hand and held one of its longest roots, nearly three feet in length, against the wound on Steorf’s chest. Almost immediately, Tazi could see the milky discharge disappear into the moisture-starved plant. Several minutes passed, and Tazi watched as the root started to swell where it touched Steorf. That swelling slowly grew and progressed up the length of the root, but when the swelling reached the base of the plant, the thorny cactus started to sag. Tazi pulled the dying plant away from Steorf.

  She knew that the plant wouldn’t be able to draw out all of the poison, but judging from the new width of the root, it had removed a significant portion. Between that and the water, Steorf started to lose the vacant glaze in his eyes. Tazi squeezed his hand and gave him a new section of root.

  When all the cacti were gone, Steorf was much more alert. However, though he was somewhat recovered, he was by no means cured of the worm toxin, and Tazi knew it.

  “When this is all over,” she told him, “I’ll get you to a proper healer.”

  “ ‘When this is over …’ ” he repeated, marveling at her choice of words.

  “Yes,” Tazi answered him, “when this is all finished.”

  “If you are feeling a little stronger,” Fannah interrupted, “perhaps you can finish these.”

  She held out Ciredor’s parchments, and Steorf accepted the sheaf of papers. Both Tazi and Fannah helped him to a sitting position. He looked at his two friends, obviously worried.

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” he finally admitted.

  “Yes, you can,” Tazi encouraged him. “You were almost finished before you were injured. You can do this now.”

  Tazi could see how worried he looked. She suspected that since his physical strength had failed him, he was frightened that his sorcerous abilities would, too.

  “Fannah needs your help.” She lowered her voice so only he would hear her. “I can’t translate these papers, and we need to find Ciredor.”

  “You’re right,” he said finally. “Give me a moment.”

  He handed the parchments back to Tazi. She gripped the papers and watched Steorf expectantly.

  Steorf closed his eyes and concentrated. For a brief time, Tazi thought he was going to fall short again, but his hands started to glow with a white intensity he had failed to reach on his first attempt after the worm was vanquished. Tazi found she was holding her breath and was wrinkling the parchments in her fists.

  “Please …” she whispered.

  Steorf broke into a sweat, and Tazi recognized what a conundrum he was in. Exhausted from the poison, he was straining what meager reserves he had left to heal himself. Tazi shook her head with the realization that they were using themselves up, one by one.

  Slowly, his hands turned brown, and Tazi realized he had nowhere to expel the toxin. She dropped the book and grabbed his hands. Tazi could feel some numbness at the point of contact and even saw her skin discolor, but before any more venom drained away, Steorf opened his eyes and realized what was happening. He yanked his hands free.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded of Tazi, but she smiled when she saw his color was somewhat improved.

  “What I have to do,” she answered. “Just like you, I’m doing what I have to for us.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him as she handed him back Ciredor’s writings.

  Steorf gave her an unreadable look and started to sift through the dark works. Tazi could see that his eyes were clearer and he was no longer confused. Both she and Fannah kneeled beside him in the sand, their presence the only support they could offer him. Rather than feeling that same lingering frustration, Tazi thought she could actually sense Steorf drawing on their quiet strength.

  After some minutes, Steorf said, “Either I’m still out of my head, or this bit here is starting to make sense.”

  “What does it say?” Fannah asked.

  “Most of this is really a treatise to his goddess. In fact, he goes on at some length about her and her virtues.”

  “Shar is a goddess of darkness, though,” Tazi said.

  “That is partially correct,” Fannah replied. “Darkness is her element, but she rules over hidden pains and buried jealousies.”

  “Why would anyone follow her?” Tazi asked.

  “Who can say what drives the soul or why anyone would do anything?” Fannah cryptically answered. “But I do know that she can bring relief and soothe deep pains.”

  “She takes away pain?” Steorf asked curiously.

  “No,” Fannah corrected him, “that’s not quite accurate. It is more like she dulls the pain, and her followers simply live with it as a way of life. Sort of a perverse acceptance, really. She hates light and hope, I think, most of all.”

  “Perhaps it is my pain that has helped me to finally understand Ciredor’s writings better,” Steorf murmured. “It has brought me closer to him.”

  “How do you know so much about her?” Tazi wondered.

  “Remember,” Fannah explained, “Sharess was once under her influence before she broke free. Our church was careful to school us in Shar’s ways so that we can always recognize the dark one and never fall victim to her touch again.”

  Tazi nodded at that.

  “Perhaps that’s what makes you so special to Ciredor,” she considered. “You are the ultimate representation of something Shar lost. A gift of loss to the very goddess of loss herself. I hate to admit it, but in his own perverse way he has probably found the only gift of value anyone could offer her.”

  Fannah remained silent, and Steorf gave Tazi a cold look. She felt suddenly guilty. She had gotten caught up in Ciredor’s thinking. It was the first time Tazi had spoken so objectively of Fannah’s worth, as though she had forgotten what was a
t stake for her Calishite friend. The moment stretched out awkwardly, and Steorf buried his attention back in the writings.

  “There’s more,” he announced triumphantly. “He goes on about Shar for a stretch”—he pointed to the marks on the vellum he had read—“and here is where he mentions discovering the perfect location for his heart. This has to be about the minarets.”

  “What does it say?” Tazi asked, eager to have broken the strained silence.

  When she glanced at Fannah, Tazi could see her friend had never taken offence. You truly do see the person behind the words, she thought.

  Steorf squinted at the text and wiped at his forehead, distracted. Tazi scrutinized him and realized he was still far from well.

  “He says that the towers are perfect jewels within the desert and goes on about the views that he has. It seems he sees Spinning Keeps and rubble and somehow this is all so romantic to him.”

  “What was that last part?” Fannah asked, instantly alert.

  “It said something about a Spinning Keep,” Tazi told her.

  “ ‘And from the west I can almost see the Spinning Keep of Siri’wadjen, and from the east I can still imagine the former grandeur of Teshyll though it is all rubble now,’ ” Steorf recited.

  “I know where he is,” Fannah said. “It makes perfect sense.”

  “Where?” Tazi asked.

  “Ciredor has claimed the minarets in the very heart of both the Teshyll Wastes and the Calim itself, not all that far from where we are,” she told them.

  “Then this is it,” Tazi pronounced. “Now to decide the best way to proceed.”

  She pondered the question, considering both Steorf and Fannah.

  “I have a suggestion,” Fannah offered.

  “Please,” Tazi urged.

  “The only path that makes any sense now is to take the Trade Way. It is mostly intact from here, and that will help us immensely.”

  “And announce ourselves to Ciredor,” Steorf added.

  Before Fannah could say anything more, Tazi told him, “I think he has always known where we were. When that worm attacked us, I was struck by the feeling that time and time again it turned to you.”