The World Weavers

by Kelley Grant

  “How fortunate,” the Templar said mockingly.

  “You must guide us there,” the Crone said, clutching his arm. He could feel her pressing her will upon him.

  “We’ll check the humpbacks to make certain none are hurt from the storm,” Kadar said. “Drink well, but don’t use the water to wash. We still have a long way to go before we reach a spring. I’m hoping we can make the foothills before sunset.”

  The humpbacks were anxious, not wanting the humans to touch them, but Kadar forced them to settle. None were harmed. Kadar watched Jonas take a tiny sip from his waterskin.

  “Drink more,” Kadar advised. “I’ve seen ­people who died of dehydration with water left in their canteen because they wanted to save it.”

  The new Herald tenderly covered his predecessor’s face with her scarf, and reburied her in the sand.

  “I wonder where her feli went,” Kadar said.

  The Herald shook his head. “They simply disappear. Some die with their chosen, but most just leave. I like to think they go back to the wild.”

  The Herald was the only one who looked back at their sheltering rocks as they mounted their humpbacks and wrapped their faces against the gritty sand still blowing in the wind. Kadar directed his humpback to the rocks at the edge of the sandy dunes and tried not to think of the thousands they left behind.

  CHAPTER 20

  Sulis sat in the courtyard with the Kabandha warriors, listening as Sari reported Abram’s last message. She felt helpless as she watched the energy of the sandstorm roll across the desert, across where she knew Kadar was traveling with the Voices.

  “You idiots,” Amon exclaimed, standing. “A smaller storm is heading for us! We need to shield this area or the path down will be obscured and the oasis will be obliterated.”

  “The oasis is protected by the wards,” Sari said. “But the path to it and the waymarker could be covered. Can you direct us on how to shield it from the winds?”

  “You don’t know how to shield?” Amon asked. He glared over at the Chosen. “Link with me and follow my lead. The winds coming this way could funnel into this chasm and tear apart everything we’ve created.”

  “Winds!” Ava exclaimed. She and Sanuri had a low conversation, and then clasped hands and ran into the temple.

  Sulis reached out and clasped hands with Alannah, beside her.

  “What do you think that was about?” she muttered as Amon linked himself into the circle.

  “She was worried she’d unsettle the weather if she linked Aryn’s mandala to the winds around the chasm, like what happened with linking Ivanha to the bedrock and Parasu to the stream. Oh wow, there are the feli.”

  The tiny stream now gushed like a river behind the temple thanks to Ava’s mandala work. Sulis wasn’t certain how Amon’s feli crossed it from the ledges behind—­but they suddenly surrounded the group. Amon said they were natural shields, and when they joined the group, a shield snapped into place around the chasm. Amon directed them to expand the shield to the paths around the chasm to the nearest oasis. The first waves of energy bounced off the shields.

  “Let a little through, so we don’t get a rebound and create more storms,” Amon directed. Sulis was surprised to feel drops of wetness on her skin.

  “Now let it sink into the earth. The worst is over,” Amon said. They did, and Sulis looked up as rain drizzled down upon them.

  “We must have shifted air currents and brought rain from the mountains. Hope it doesn’t get worse,” Ashraf said as they ducked into the temple. “Too much rain could cause rockslides and sudden flooding.”

  “One disaster after another,” Sulis said, pacing by the doorway. “I wish I still had my bond with Kadar. I can’t bear to think that he might die in the Sands thinking he was alone.”

  “He is still alive, as is Abram,” Grandmother snapped as she passed by. Her eyes were red and Sulis knew she suppressed tears for all the friends among the warriors she’d just lost. “I would know if they had passed. Let’s make certain the weather energy hasn’t damaged our work at the mandala. Do something useful rather than sit and worry.”

  Sulis followed her grandmother. Ava was sitting outside the mandala, roughhousing with Nuisance, but she stood when the rest of the Chosen approached.

  “We did it,” she said, and then squeaked as Nuisance almost knocked her down. “Aryn is connected both to her winds and to the One. Only one line is not complete.”

  “Fire,” Alannah said, studying the mandala by Voras.

  “Palou says some sort of fire comes out of the mountains by the shore,” Ava said. “But I don’t know how to find it.”

  “I will help you link to it,” Grandmother said. “I’ve been there.”

  “Will that make those mountains erupt?” Sulis asked.

  Grandmother shrugged. “It might. It is right by the shoreline of the ocean and is too rocky for humans, so an eruption will disturb no one.”

  “Not today,” Ava said with a shiver. “The wind energy was scary. It was really hard to tie down.”

  Sulis stepped up to the edge of the energy lines of the mandala and closed her eyes. The energy was etched into the very stones of the temple. Every day Ava renewed the energy on the lines with help from Dani and Alannah. Layer upon layer of energy had worn channels of energy into the obsidian floor until the very stones were alive with chakra energy.

  “Figured out how to dance it yet?” Master Anchee said lightly from behind her.

  Sulis looked over at him. Deep lines of sadness surrounded his eyes. The warriors at Kabandha had been his family. He’d never left after being sent there to train as a boy.

  “How many did we lose in the backlash?” Sulis asked him.

  Master Anchee looked away. “Your grandmother is no longer linked to any of the warriors of the One who could channel energy,” he said, his voice choked.

  Lasha put a hand on his arm. “There is a possibility that it somehow severed their connections to your grandmother without killing them.”

  But it wasn’t likely. Sulis knew that was what he was saying. Thousands of men and women, gone in an instant.

  “Will the survivors return here?” she asked. “What happens next?”

  “Sari said the advance cohort of warriors of the One and the Tigus who were closest to Voras’s army were sheltered by rocks and may have survived. They will probably follow the sandstorm into the desert to confront what remains of the army,” Master Anchee said. “We have not heard from Abram about the ­people around him. If any survive, they will probably travel here.”

  “If the storm is as big as they said, it will be more of a rescue mission than a battle,” Ashraf said. “The Tigus won’t need to use illusions to conquer Voras’s army.”

  “And what of Kadar, and the Voices?” Sulis asked.

  “According to your grandmother, he is alive, and we have to assume he is keeping the Voices alive,” Master Anchee said. “We will farspeak a general call into the desert, asking anyone who survived where they are and if they need assistance. It is normal rescue procedure after a storm of this magnitude. Hopefully he will respond then. He should continue to the Tigu camp to meet Onyeka as his guide.”

  “Stay alive, Kadar,” Sulis whispered. “Everything depends on you now.”

  Jonas suppressed a groan as he slipped off his exhausted humpback. Everything hurt and he was wearier than he’d ever been in his life. The adrenaline from surviving the storm had worn off hours ago, and every step of the struggling, plodding beast had hurt his tailbone.

  They reached the rocky stability of the mountain foothills after dusk had already fallen. The Voices and guards sat on their humpbacks while Kadar scouted around the rocks, looking for a place to settle and rest.

  He returned looking a good deal happier and they followed him to a sheltered spot.

  “There is a tiny spring b
eyond those rocks,” Kadar said. “I think it was created by shifting rocks in the storm. Its small enough it’ll take hours to refill the canteens, but we have water.”

  Jonas took a ­couple more swallows from his waterskin and realized he was starving. The Crone was already chewing on dried meat and nuts. They had packed journey rations to eat at midday, but because of the sandstorm had never gotten them out. He pulled them out of his bag, and then hesitated.

  “How much should we save?” he asked Kadar.

  Kadar shrugged. “Maybe half?” he said. “There’s usually a stash of rations at nomadic camps for stranded travelers—­but we can’t count on it.”

  Jonas hesitated, and then ate the dried meat. It didn’t matter if he was hungry now or hungry later—­he would not be able to continue without food. He offered a bit of dried meat to Pollux, who sniffed it but wasn’t interested. The feli had less difficulty walking in the deeper sand and had disappeared for a while into the mountains before they’d reached solid ground. He suspected that they’d found some rodents to snack on.

  Jonas found himself dozing off as he chewed. He woke enough to use his cloak to soften the rock, as Kadar held a low-­voiced conversation with the remaining guards. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

  He woke to eerie howling deep in the night, his heart pounding as he sat up. Pollux was sitting, staring into the night, his tail twitching, but unalarmed. The other Voices were dark lumps on the ground, still sleeping soundly—­but a standing guard looked his way.

  “Go back to sleep, my lord,” the guard said. “It’s only the scavenger dogs that roam the mountains. They aren’t the ones that hunt living creatures.”

  Jonas lay back and had only enough time to wonder which mountain animals did hunt humans before slipping into sleep.

  The heat of daylight woke him, and he sat up to find the camp stirring. The desert was still in a strange sort of dusk, sand particles still creating a haze that partially obscured the sun. As Jonas looked out into the Sands, swirling winds spun a small dust devil into the air, before whipping over some dunes.

  I did not want to wake you; your body was so exhausted, Parasu said. But now that you are awake, I must speak with the other Voices.

  Jonas scrambled to his feet. He was still sore but felt more human now that he was rested and had water.

  Kadar was using a waxed canvas bowl to give the humpbacks water, and he nodded as Jonas passed him on his way to where the other three gathered. They were divvying up remaining rations.

  “There is extra for you as well, Tribune,” the Crone said. “The Templar was carrying some rations for his guards, and four never made it to shelter. We also have the poor Herald’s rations.”

  It looked like the Crone had been able to wash the dried sand off her face, and Jonas glanced around for a basin of water. He looked forward to getting the dry crustiness out of his eyes. He spotted a small basin, with fine silt at the bottom where the others had washed and let the sand settle. Jonas carefully dipped his hands in, gently washing his face and skin without losing too much water.

  Kadar joined the group. “If we run out of food completely, we can butcher the extra mount we have. I hate to do it, because we need an extra if one of the humpbacks goes lame on these rocks—­but it’s better than starving.”

  “Our feli may be able to bring us fresh meat before it comes to that,” the Herald said.

  The Crone shuddered. “Rodents, lizards—­that is what Amia is eating.”

  “Better than starving,” the Herald said.

  Jonas accepted the extra food and sat. “Parasu wishes to speak,” he said formally, and his deity came to the front of his mind.

  “I have been unable to contact the Magistrate,” Parasu said. “This tells me he is dead. I cannot see through the eyes of any of the scholars I brought, so I must assume they are dead as well. What has Voras said, Templar?”

  The Templar shook his head. “My second, who I left in command, is dead. Any Knight who could channel power died trying to push the storm away or shield the camp with no success. No one left has much magical ability, so he is seeing only flashes of the camp. A quarter of the army remains, but they lack water and have to dig their food out of deep sand. The oasis is filled with sand, but desperate fighters are trying to dig it out.”

  “Only a dozen of Aryn’s healers survived,” the Herald said. “All Aryn could see is them digging endlessly, trying to get to buried fighters before they suffocated.”

  “Ivanha has no one in the camp,” the Crone said. “She sees nothing.”

  “Do we try to return, to help save the remaining fighters in the army?” the Herald asked.

  “No,” Parasu said. “I have tested the currents of the air. Southerners created that storm. I assume their warriors will follow the storm to make certain our Voices were killed. If we go back, we walk right into their hands.”

  “Why didn’t you sense the storm before it hit?” the Templar asked bitterly. “We might have been able to prepare, to save thousands of lives.”

  “Weather working is hard to sense, because the energy currents ebb and flow naturally,” Parasu said, undisturbed by the accusation. The human Voice was so far below himself that responding in anger would be silly. “The warriors of the One could be at the other end of the desert and disrupt the currents. I am, however, surprised that Aryn did not realize that her element had been corrupted.”

  The Herald ducked his head. “She, too, is dismayed. The illness of my predecessor made it difficult for her to sense the air properly.”

  Parasu considered that, and Jonas felt him accept it. “It is why we still travel to the Obsidian Temple. Once we regain our autonomy, the frailty of humans will not block our senses. We will be whole and powerful once again.”

  “If you are done talking, I’m anxious to move on,” Kadar said. His eyes unfocused suddenly. “Hold on.”

  Parasu’s interest sharpened. He is a farspeaker, he told Jonas. He speaks to another Southerner. I cannot quite hear what they are saying.

  Kadar refocused, looking over at Jonas. “There is a farspeaker at the oasis closest to the Obsidian Temple. He is finding the minds of farspeakers in the area and asking if they are in need of assistance. The sandstorm was spread throughout the desert, even though the greatest impact was in our direction.”

  “Do you trust this? They might be looking for us,” the Crone said.

  “No desert warrior has reached our army,” the Templar disagreed. “Even if they had, it would take days of digging to realize we aren’t among the dead.”

  Kadar nodded. “Rescue and guides are sent to anyone stranded after a large storm. If they can provide us a guide through the foothills to that oasis, I can take you to the temple. I’m not certain how to disguise you when a Tigu guide arrives, though.”

  “Our Voices can darken their skin and change their features to look like Southerners to fool the guide. We will translate their language for our Voices,” Parasu said confidently. “It will be harder to hide our guards, though.”

  Kadar looked surprised. “I’ve never seen that ability before. Sounds similar to what the Tigus do, blending in with the sand. Let me see who is at the oasis. We can tell the Tigus that the guards are Forsaken you have freed to work in Frubia. Our clothes are ragged enough—­at this point we all look like paupers.”

  He closed his eyes and seemed to focus.

  Kadar’s eyes opened. “The farspeaker gave me better directions to the Tigu camp. We are not far. About a half day’s walk. He says a guide is already sheltering there as well as ­couple of Tigus.”

  “How does he know this?” the Templar asked. “Ask him.”

  “I already asked. There is an elderly farspeaker at the camp. The guide was taking him to his home, but they delayed to give him rest and became stuck there because of the storm,” Kadar said.

  “I am ready
,” the Crone said, standing unsteadily. “I want to get this over with so I can go home.”

  “Of course,” Kadar said, going to her side in an instant. “This must be very difficult for you, my lady. We should walk our beasts through the rocky sections, but if you are too exhausted, you may ride and I will lead you.”

  She still has her claws sunk deeply into the Southern man, Parasu noted. He will do everything he can to keep her safe, and us as well because we are with her. I admire her ability to keep the geas strong, even as tired as she is.

  Jonas wearied quickly, both in body and in courage, as they climbed over rocky, unstable footing while their humpbacks resisted and became balky. Kadar calmed the beasts the best he could, but even he was looking weary when they finally came to a flatter space in the rocks and heard voices speaking in the Tigu tongue.

  “It can’t be,” Kadar said, as he hurried forward.

  I am disguising you, Parasu said. Do not be alarmed if you see your reflection. I am also putting a deflecting spell on you, so they will not wish to look too closely.

  Jonas looked down at his arms, which were now brown and more muscular. If he peered closely he could see through the illusion to his pale, thin body. He looked up to find the others had already transformed and were following Kadar. There was a group of Tigus seated around a small fire, on which cooked something that smelled wonderful to Jonas. Two of the ­people rose and faced them.

  “Welcome.” An elderly man held out his arms, speaking in the Southern tongue. “It is good to see other survivors of that terrible storm.”

  Jonas heard a terrible howling. He turned in time to see a small orange-­pointed cat leap up onto Kadar’s shoulder.

  “Kadar?” A tall, lean Tigu woman stood, her eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”

  “Onyeka, it is you!” Kadar said, his face wreathed in the most genuine smile Jonas had seen since they met him at the oasis. He grabbed the woman in a hug. “What are you doing here? I did not think I would see you again.”

  “But, who are these ­people?” Onyeka asked, frowning.