D & D - Red Sands

by Tonya R. Carter

  "What do you want. . . must go . . ." She was tired, so tired. How good it would be to lie down in the ferns and sleep. No worries. No dangers. No difficult choices of life, death, and love.

  Sleep. I will go to your companions, 'l'hcy shall know me as they know you and I shall love them as you do.

  Jadira reclined in the green fronds. Iwo hands took out the filled waterskins and carried them away.

  "On guard!"

  The blunt tip of the Faziri scimitar wavered. Parry— cut! Hilt high to the shoulder. Slash right, loop cut left. Back to guard and hold. Overhand whirl and cut—

  "Be careful, will you? ou're going to hurt somebody with that thing," said Nabul. Marix turned on one heel and brought the blade down with both hands a whisker's length from a sprig of cedar he'd thrust in the ground. With one deft movement, Marix shaved all the greenery from one side of the sprig.

  "You were saying?"

  "You're bold with a bush. How would you do against a real man with a real sword?"

  Marix slipped the scimitar back into its scabbard. "Time will tell," he said. "Unless you care to practice with me now." Nabul clucked and spat.

  Jadira came down the hill, stepping cautiously over the shifting ground. She balanced a skin of water under each arm. Marix went to help her. He took one skin and offered a hand to guide her down.

  "Thank you," she said warmly. She leaned heavily on his arm. Her headdress was down around her shoulders and her robe was parted past the base of her neck. A blush of pale skin showed there.

  "I found a marvelous spring," she said. "The water is so clear and cold!"

  "Let me have some," Nabul said.

  She dropped a skin at the thiefs feet. The spout popped open and a cold jet sloshed on Nabul's legs. "Ai, what's this? My anointing?" But Jadira's eyes were on Marix.

  "Bring a cup. I'll pour you a libation," she offered. The young nobleman looked at her curiously, but went to the donkey pannier and got one of the tin cups they'd acquired at Julli. Marix blew grit from the cup and handed it tojadira. She squeezed the waterskin firmly, directing the narrow stream into the cup.

  She held it out to him. "Drink." Marix tried to take the cup, but Jadira maintained her hold. "Drink," she said.

  His blue eyes followed her brown ones intently as the cup came to his lips. Marix's hand closed over Jadira's. Something tangible passed between them, something silent and powerful. Cold water trickled down Marix's throat. When the cup was empty, she lowered it. The gap between them narrowed. Jadira leaned closer, her hand to Marix's cheek.

  "Is there water?" said Tamakh, popping up from his blanket. His voice shattered the stillness. Nabul, who had witnessed the sharing of water, shook his head like a drunkard.

  "All those days in the desert and now I'm going off my head!" he said. Jadira turned away from Marix and refilled the cup. Tamakh scratched his belly.

  "What a restful place this is," the cleric said. "You know, this would be a fine place for a sanctuary to Agma."

  "Wouldn't that disturb the spirits who already dwell here?" said Jadira.

  "What spirits?"

  "Surely you must know, Holy One, that wherever sun, earth, and water exist to give life to plants and animals, there also will be spirits."

  "Well, yes, that's basic theology," said the priest. "I was wondering why you choose to put it that way— 'disturb the spirits who already dwell here'?"

  She laughed lightly. "How else would I put it?"

  Marix rubbed his eyes and inhaled deeply, like a man awakening from a long sleep. "I wouldn't drink the water, Tamakh," he said. "Its kick is stronger than Nar-sian wine!"

  Tamakh sniffed his cup. He dipped a little finger in and licked the drop off. "Hmm, mineral water," he remarked, "but I detect no soporific quality." He tilted his head back and drained the cup. "Ahh!" Marix and Nabul watched the priest for signs of giddiness. When he merely sat back down and took another long drink, they gave up.

  Jadira settled herself close to Marix. Whatever else the

  water did, it certainly had warmed the nomad woman. Tamakh studied her for a moment. There was something in the air, almost like the presence of the confined efreet.

  He pulled a long ravelin from the hem of his toga and knotted it. "Who will play?" he asked. The others looked at him, puzzled. Tamakh worked the loop of thread between his hands, then presented the results to his friends. "Cat's cradle," he said.

  Nabul grinned. "I am the best cradle player on Naaki Street." He and the priest were soon apparently engrossed in back and forth manipulations of the string.

  "Is your mind clear now?" Jadira said to Marix in a private tone.

  "It is. Jadira, I—" He struggled for an easy phrase. He could find none better than "I love you, Jadira."

  "It pleases me to hear you say that."

  "Does it? But I thought you said it could never be."

  "Is a mortal heart a thing of stone? If we measure our lives by the happiness we experience, why should we settle for less than a full cup?"

  He stared. "You sound like a court poet."

  "Forgive me. I do not mean to cloud the air with words."

  "They were beautiful words." He bent to kiss her, but she put a finger to his lips.

  "Not here," she said, slanting her gaze at Tamakh. "Let us walk a ways."

  Nabul presented the Prophet's Coffin to Tamakh. "Aha!" he said. "Make something of that!" While the priest pondered the web of string, Nabul watched Marix and Jadira stroll off together.

  "The journey has finally brought them out," he said.

  "Eh? What?"

  "Our friends have discovered each other at last," said the thief. He gestured with his shoulder. "There, see?"

  Tamakh looked. His eyebrows bunched together as he Irowned. "Odd," he said.

  "To a priest perhaps, but not so odd to less spiritual folk." Nabul wiggled his bound hands. "Come on, Holy One, don't stall. Play or admit defeat."

  Tamakh hooked his little fingers on two strands, pulled them apart and stuck his remaining fingers underneath the side of the 'coffin'. He lifted the arrangement off Nabul's hands and tightened the string.

  "Success!" he said, but the string slipped off his thumbs and went slack. Nabul laughed triumphantly, lamakh didn't notice. He was once more watching the swaying boughs of cedar where Marix and Jadira had gone. He returned the string to Nabul and stood up. "I believe a walk in the woods might do me good," he said thoughtfully. The thief cozened him to try his hand again, but Tamakh started off for the trees.

  "The priest is right," Marix said as they walked hand in hand. "This is a tranquil place."

  "I have always loved it."

  "Oh? Have you been here before?"

  "No, I meant I've loved it since we arrived." The sun flashed down behind the highest peaks of the Shammat. Violet shadows sprang up to claim the glens and hollows.

  "I could stay here forever," said Marix, taking in the view.

  "Truly? Would you?" asked Jadira.

  "You know we cannot. Scarcely eighteen days remain before the conclave in Tantuffa, and we must get the prince's seal to him by then."

  "Would it be so terrible if you gave up this mission?"

  He dropped her hand. "I don't understand you. I made a pledge, on the honor of my family, to fulfill Sir Kannal's dying request. Why would you ask me to fail in my duty?"

  She touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers. "There are reasons, beautiful one, reasons I will tell you if you truly want to know." He caught her stroking hand and pressed it to his lips.

  "I will listen."

  Jadira embraced him. She lifted her head, and began to whisper in Marix's ear.

  "Stop!"

  They broke apart like guilty children. Tamakh was standing beneath the trees, a burning branch in his hand. Nabul peeked curiously over his shoulder.

  "Tamakh?" Marix said. "What's wrong?"

  "Beware, my boy, for all is not as it seems!" warned the priest.

 
"Go away, holy man. This does not concern you!" Jadira said angrily.

  "Speak plainly," said Marix. "What do you warn me of?"

  He stabbed a blunt finger at Jadira. "Her."

  "You go too far, Tamakh."

  "Look at her, Marix. When has our Jadira behaved in so immodest a fashion? Hair down, robe open, and walking like some veiled city wanton?"

  Marix's face contorted with confusion. The romantic haze cleared and he stepped away from Jadira. "You have been behaving differently since we last talked."

  "Do you doubt me now that I show that I love you? Forget what the spiteful priest says! He thinks only of his (rude god of fire. If I am different, it is because your love lias transformed me," said Jadira.

  "Pretty words! Who do they come from? Our Jadira would never beg a man for anything, not even love," lamakh snapped.

  "Then who is she?" asked Nabul.

  "Jadira possessed, I'd wager. By whom or by what I can't say. But there is a way to find out." The priest started forward. Jadira retreated, putting Marix between her and the advancing Tamakh.

  "Marix, don't let him hurt me!" she cried.

  Marix turned and gripped her by the arms. "Tamakh would never hurt you," he said. An agony of indecision was in his voice. "Why are you afraid? Could what he says be true?"

  "No, never!"

  "Then stand your ground and face him."

  Tamakh held up the dungeon key. "As fire consumes the impermanent things of this world, so may the will of Agma consume the spell on this woman." He touched the knobbed end to Jadira's forehead. "Let it be done. Copus deram fessk!"

  Tamakh expected Jadira to revert to her normal self, perhaps fainting if the shock were too great. She did neither. Her dark eyes swirled and faded to green slits. Her nut-brown skin turned to jade, and her black hair became a sheaf of glistening watercress. The cloaked aura of ethereal power burst forth, and the men cringed before its impact.

  "By the Thirty!" gasped Nabul. He spun to flee, tripped on a tree root, and sprawled in the dirt.

  "My ancestors," Marix gasped. "What have I consorted with?"

  The creature picked up the key from where Tamakh had dropped it. Tamakh tried to hold his ground, but the green apparition forced him back with its powerful presence.

  "you have dispelled the semblance of the woman Jadira," she said. (For all her alienness, the creature was still female.) "Are you happy, priest?"

  "Who are you?" asked Tamakh carefully. The merest contact with the creature's eyes was painful to him.

  "I am the guardian spirit of the spring. ou may call mejii." Tamakh's face showed recognition. "ou know me, holy man?" Jii asked.

  "I know what you are." He looked at Marix. "Spirits were bound to the mortal world in the days when the gods warred over this land. For siding with the rebellious forces of Dutu, the guardians must spend eternity fixed to one place. They cannot leave, on pain of instant dissolution."

  Marix found his tongue. "Where is Jadira?" he demanded. "What have you done with her?"

  Jii's sharp features softened when she looked at Marix. "Do you love her, beautiful one? I sensed it from far away. I came to your Jadira, and drew her to my pool. There she remains, adrift in timeless sleep."

  Out came the scimitar with a scrape of steel. Tamakh stayed Marix's arm. "Don't be a fool!" he said. "She could kill you with a nod."

  "Put up your blade, beautiful one. While I may have used the form of another, I do truly love you."

  "Love? You're not even human!"

  "Is that a barrier to the heat of the heart? The beasts of the field love, as do the gods on high. Is Jii less than a beast or more than a god?"

  "You've known me only a few hours," Marix said. "How can you love me?"

  "For ninety and nine seasons have I dwelled alone, unseen and unloved. My spring is hidden so deeply that few come here. So cold has my heart become, at times I felt I might fade from this plane. Then I sensed the living warmth of the one called Jadira. In her mind I found lier love for you." Tears of brilliant green appeared injii's eyes. "My heart beats again to feel this. Stay with me, beautiful one, and I will teach you the secrets of the water, woods, and mountain. I will shelter you and feed you, and make you the happiest of mortal men."

  Marix turned helplessly to Tamakh. "What can I do? I don't wish to hurt this creature, but I don't love her. I want Jadira back, hale and safe."

  "I agree," said Tamakh. Tojii, he said, "Guardian, you ask for what cannot be yours. Please, if you care for Marix, let him go."

  "You ask for my life. If I go on alone, my torment will be endless."

  Tamakh nodded solemnly. "We understand, but if Marix fails to complete his mission, thousands of men, women, and children will die, and thousands more will have to endure the rule of a grievous tyrant."

  "The lives of your distant mortals are like stars; if a thousand fall from the sky, are the heavens lessened?"

  Tamakh gave up. He took Marix aside and whispered, "You're the only one who can influence her. She must renounce you, else she'll never let us go."

  Marix studied Jii's tear-streaked face. In a loud voice, he said to Tamakh, "Leave us, Holy One. Take Nabul and go back to camp." Tamakh helped the surprisingly speechless thief to his feet and ushered him away. When the priest and the thief were gone, Marix said sternly, "Take me to Jadira."

  Jii wiped her smooth cheeks. She said, "What do you

  wish of her?"

  "I need to see her."

  Jii did not fear to grant his wish. She gave her hand to Marix. He took it uncertainly. Her hard green flesh was cold, and she smelled of damp and dew. Marix would not meet her eyes, so Jii gripped his hand tightly and led him away.

  They came to the stream. In the ferns by the pool, Jadira lay, lost in slumber.

  "Waken her," said Marix.

  "That 1 will not do."

  "You must!"

  "Will you stay with me?"

  "Would you coerce me into love?" he said desperately. "How could you ever believe any sweet words or caresses I might give you, knowing I am kept against my will?"

  "You will grow to love me."

  "Never!" he snarled, knotting his hands into fists. "Never!" he cried again, drawing his sword. "Yield Jadira and my freedom, or I will slay you where you stand!"

  Jii waved a hand. The hardened Omerabad steel blade shattered like cheap glass. Marix threw the useless hilt into the pool. He fell to his knees by the sleeping Jadira and gathered her into his arms.

  "Stubborn, willful woman," he said, weeping. "Now you'll never get to visit my country, never share my house. . . . If I had been more a man and less a fool, I might have won you. Now it's too late." Laying his cheek next to hers, Marix held Jadira's limp body to him. Jii stared impassively down at them. The spirit inhaled sharply. A ripple of subtle force passed from her to Jadira. Marix felt it.

  Jadira stirred. She coughed and opened her eyes. "I never said you were a fool," she said thickly.

  "you can hear me!"

  "Of course I can, you silly foreigner. . . . Where am

  I ?"

  "Where you must be," said Jii, now standing calf-deep in the pool. "I see that you two are destined for each other. I will not hold you, beautiful one."

  Jadira started when she saw who spoke. "Who in Dutu's name is that?"

  "The keeper of this place," said Marix.

  They got to their feet, never losing sight of Jii. Marix half-expected some trick, but the guardian let them go without hindrance.

  Jadira and Marix hurried away from the pool. Halfway up the hill, they heard Jii's light footfall behind them. Not daring to look back, they hurried on. Jii followed them, knowing it meant her destruction. When the bond between Jii and the spring to which she was bound was severed by distance, Jadira and Marix heard a high, wavering cry: the final lament of a lonely, dying spirit. The mournful sound dispersed among the dark evergreens and ultimate silence replaced it.

  Tamakh and Nabul were amazed when they walked into c
amp unharmed. Marix gruffly brushed off their anxious questions. He went to the fire and sat with his back to them. Nabul moved to join him, but Jadira warned him off.

  She slipped in beside him. Marix told her in short, tired words the story of Jii. When he was done, she put an arm across his shoulders and held him.

  "Is all that true?" she asked.

  "Every word."

  "You risked the wrath of a spirit for me?" He nodded a silent affirmative. "Then you were twice wrong."

  "Oh? How so?"

  "You are a man, and no fool."

  A dark shape cut through the bushes, looming in the swaying shadows. Jadira and Marix looked up fearfully. A pair of dead rabbits hit the ground, and Uramettu stepped into the circle of firelight.

  "Greetings, my sister and friend. I bring you meat," she said. When neither moved, she added, "Do I have to skin them as well?"

  Nabul darted in. "No, indeed! That's one chore I'll enjoy!" He whetted his dagger on a smooth stone and set to work.

  "Well," Uramettu said cheerfully, lowering herself to a stone seat. "What did you do today?"

  Nabul opened his mouth, but Jadira forestalled him. "What we always do," she said, easing her hand into Marix's. "Survive."

  PART II:

  SHAMMAT

  Pass by Night

  As the mountains rose higher, the weather cooled by day and night. The loose robes the companions had found indispensable in the Red Sands now were too light. Marix, experienced in cold climes, showed them how to convert their clothing to the new conditions. He tied lengths of cord or thong about their wrists and waists, drawing their robes close to their bodies. With that, and scarves wound around their legs, they were warm.

  Signs of humanity began to appear again: a mountain deer, dropped by a heavy crossbow quarrel, lay skinned and quartered of its best meat on a ledge below the trail. Uramettu sniffed the carcass and said it had been killed less than four days before. She fetched back the quarrel.

  "I don't like this," said Marix, turning the short arrow over in his hands. "Steel heads and goose fletching are the work of soldiers. No mountain artisan made this bolt."

  "Could it be Faziri?" asked Tamakh.

  "Could be, but I doubt it. The Shammat is free terri-