Sand of the Soul

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  Watch and learn, she told herself.

  The inner doorway of the mausoleum opened up to a gently sloping tunnel that was cool, dry, and apparently empty. Once they passed the threshold, Tazi and Steorf discovered that not only was it wide enough for the three to walk abreast but also that his glow spell was unnecessary.

  Every ten feet or so Tazi could see naturally occurring recesses in the rock wall, like sconces, that held small, shimmering spheres that did an adequate job illuminating the passage.

  “Does this only lead to the temple?” Tazi asked Fannah quietly.

  “If memory serves me right,” Fannah replied, “I don’t think there are any major forks until we get to the temple proper. That shouldn’t be more than a short walk.”

  “Good,” Tazi answered and firmly planted herself in the lead.

  Steorf moved up just beside and slightly behind her, and Fannah trailed just behind the two of them.

  Tazi was on guard and looked from side to side. She realized that the farther they traveled down the tunnel, the deeper underground they were descending. Just as the crowded streets of Calimport had gotten to her, the passageway was beginning to play on her nerves. She found herself turning at every noise, real or imagined. She saw from the corner of her eye that Steorf looked at her a few times, and she wasn’t sure of the meaning behind the glances.

  Does he know how wound up I am, she wondered, or is he just looking to me for leadership?

  The tunnel snaked around to the left, and Tazi no longer had a clear view of what lay ahead. She dropped her hands so that they rested on the hilts of her blades, convinced that the direction of the tunnel was intentionally meant to obscure something. She could see that Steorf also grew sterner and more alert.

  “Wait,” Fannah warned them softly.

  I knew it, thought Tazi.

  Aloud, she whispered, “What is it?”

  “I smell something, though it is only a faint trace. I smell something burnt and charred.”

  “A torch maybe,” Steorf offered, “or some sort of residual magic, perhaps?”

  Fannah disagreed. “I don’t think that it’s any of those things. While this temple has never had one in the past, I have heard that many of Ibrandul’s temples have guardians.”

  “What kind of guardians?” Tazi asked.

  “There is a kind of lizard, called an ibrandlin, which makes its lairs out of the temples. These lizards have the ability to breathe fire,” Fannah explained.

  “Steorf, keep an eye on Fannah, and I’ll duck ahead to see what I can,” Tazi told Steorf.

  “Careful,” he warned her.

  She winked at him and replied, “Always.”

  Tazi moved away from her friends and slid flat against the side of the tunnel. She took a parting look at Steorf and Fannah before rounding the bend and losing sight of her friends. She cautiously stepped around some of the smaller piles of rocks and was careful not to knock a single stone loose. With her breath held, she reached around the second turn in the tunnel and felt a more noticeable breeze on her arm.

  It must open up here, she thought.

  She peered around the corner just enough to take a quick glance, but that was more than enough.

  Fannah was right, she acknowledged to herself. There is definitely a guard.

  Curled in front of a carved double doorway was a lizard, just as Fannah had suspected. From where she was hidden, Tazi estimated that the creature was nearly thirty feet long. Silvery-gray in color, the beast looked as if it was asleep. Folded over itself as it was, Tazi found it hard to be sure, but thought it had four legs as well as a serpentine tail. She could see a glimmer from one of its deadly claws.

  And it breathes fire as well, she thought morosely.

  Tazi stole one more glance at the beast and confirmed that there was no obvious way around the creature. If she and her friends wanted to enter the temple, they were going to have to deal with the ibrandlin, one way or the other. She eased her way away from the opening in the tunnel and just as carefully picked her way back to Fannah and Steorf.

  When she returned, Steorf asked, “Was it there, like Fannah suspected?”

  “That’s the largest lizard I’ve ever seen,” she informed them and detailed the creature’s size further for Steorf.

  After hearing the particulars, Steorf said to Tazi, “Between you and me, I think we should be able to kill it.”

  “That was my first thought, too, but I took it a little further,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?” Steorf asked.

  “We need to enlist the followers of Ibrandul’s aid. Just how are we going to look to them if we, as strangers, slaughter their watch lizard to get in to see them?”

  Steorf was silent for a moment.

  “I see what you mean,” he agreed slowly, “but considering the beast’s size, I’m not sure my spells could keep it at bay long enough for you two to get in without someone getting injured.”

  Tazi pursed her lips, frustrated by their dilemma.

  “Fannah,” she asked, “do you know how smart these lizards are? Could we trick one of them?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know much about the ibrandlin,” she apologized. “From what I’ve heard, they are not supposed to possess much intelligence.”

  “That’ll help,” Tazi said.

  “They are smart enough to recognize worshipers of Ibrandul and obey their commands,” Fannah added.

  “What kinds of colors do the followers of Ibrandul wear?” Steorf asked.

  “Typical wear is normally purple and black, though the clothing style is not specific. Higher-ranking members sport purple cloaks with a kind of circular design,” she explained.

  “Purple it is,” Steorf stated and reached out to touch both Tazi and Fannah.

  Tazi looked down at Steorf’s hand on her shoulder. A purple stain began to spread from under his fingers to seep across the blue-and-white-striped shift she wore over her leathers. Soon the whole outer garment was stained a deep amethyst color. She let out a small gasp as she glanced up and saw that both Steorf and Fannah’s clothing had changed as well to shades of purple and black. On Steorf’s violet cloak, small circles covered the length of the garment.

  “It’s not permanent,” he answered Tazi’s unasked question, “but it should last long enough to fool the lizard ahead.”

  “This just might do it,” she complimented him. “There’s only one way to be sure, though.”

  Tazi led her friends around the sharp turns and stopped just before the tunnel opened up.

  “If what you said is right,” Tazi addressed Fannah, “then we should be able to just walk past this thing.”

  “That’s what I have heard,” Fannah affirmed.

  The three stepped around the corner and started to cross the twenty feet that separated them from what must have been the main entrance to the temple. They hadn’t even gone five feet when the gray lizard’s eyes flew open. It flicked its head from left to right and unfurled its limbs to slowly rise on its tail, nearly twenty feet straight up.

  Tazi resisted the urge to draw her blades, but it was a struggle. It was one thing to have a plan to remain passive, and it was entirely another thing to follow that plan when faced with such a fearsome creature.

  “Do nothing,” she whispered to Steorf and wondered if the next burnt smell in the chamber would be them.

  The ibrandlin swooped down with lightning speed and stuck its large, flat head in Tazi’s face. She held rigidly still as it moved its head from one side of her shoulders, over her own head, and down to her other shoulder. All the while, she could feel little hot spikes of air escape the two holes that was its nose. Tazi even thought she detected a hint of smoke in those puffs.

  The ibrandlin followed the same procedure with Steorf and Fannah before crawling aside to clear a path for them through the threshold. Tazi hesitantly stepped forward and marched through the doorway, Fannah immediately behind her, and Steorf bringing up the rear. When they
had all passed safely through, Tazi peered back at the ibrandlin. The lizard, however, appeared to have already forgotten them and was curling up once more like some great cat.

  She shook her head and let out a sigh. When she turned back to her friends, Tazi saw that the purple colors Steorf had created were dripping off of them to evaporate into the stone floor without a trace. Before she had a chance to compliment him further, several young men appeared from a nearly invisible side chamber and intercepted them. Tazi saw that they all were Calishite humans and they wore the true colors of Ibrandul.

  “Who are you?” one of them demanded.

  It was not lost on Tazi that the worshipers had surrounded them.

  “We have come seeking the aid of Ibrandul,” Fannah told them.

  “That may be,” the spokesperson for the acolytes said, “but how did you get in here?”

  Steorf took a deep breath, but before he could say anything Tazi squeezed his arm.

  “We are here,” Fannah replied easily, “and welcome as all should be who seek protection from those things that dwell in the dark.”

  She left it at that.

  Good girl, Tazi thought. No need to tip our hand when we don’t have to.

  “The Lurker should know of this,” one of the other worshipers muttered.

  “If you seek the Skulking God’s assistance, then follow me,” the first worshiper told them and abruptly turned away.

  Since the other followers held their ground, Tazi had a feeling that there was no choice in the matter.

  “Please bring us before him,” Fannah requested, playing along with the illusion of free choice as well.

  The group made a silent march from the small, entry chamber into a much larger room. The entire chamber was hewn from rock, and all the decorations were natural indentations in the stone. The senior priest entered, dressed in robes of deep purple tied off with a black sash. His outer robe was covered in a silver pattern of circles that looked like scales to Tazi. His beard was shot with white, and his skin was leathered. Tazi wondered how he could look so dry and withered in the damp dark.

  “What do you seek?” asked the old man.

  “We are newly arrived in Calimport, Mysterious Lurker,” Fannah correctly addressed him in the common tongue. “My companions are Thazienne and Steorf”—she motioned to each respectively—“and we have come on a most serious matter. Thazienne is best able to explain,” she finished, startling Tazi by placing her in the forefront once more.

  “I can see your companions are new to Calimport,” the Lurker said, “but you are not.” He spoke a few words in Alzhedo.

  Fannah simply nodded.

  When the ensuing silence stretched out, Tazi finally stepped forward from her companions and the few Children of Ibrandul who had led them there.

  “I would like to thank you, Mysterious Lurker, for allowing us entrance,” she began.

  “Ibrandul opens his house to any human needing protection from the dark and offers sanctuary,” he intoned benevolently.

  “I’m not sure if we need the protection or if you do,” she continued.

  One of the Children of Ibrandul, just starting his first beard, stepped toward her, and Steorf moved to block him, but the Lurker waved the novice back. Tazi realized her mistake.

  “I mean no threat,” she explained. “I am afraid I’m bringing a warning to you and hope I am in time.”

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “My friends and I are pursuing an evil necromancer. He has already killed someone close to me, and I know he wants to kill this woman as well.” She motioned to Fannah. “His trail has led here, to Calimport and to your god.”

  The novices murmured among themselves at that declaration, but the Lurker silenced them with a look.

  “What do you mean, girl?” he demanded.

  “All I can reason,” she continued, “is that he is working toward some greater goal of his and he plans to use your god for his own, evil deeds. That has to be why he needed to collect so many souls. To be honest,” she said with a touch of embarrassment at her lack of information, “I was hoping you might know what he could want with the Lord of the Dry Depths.”

  The senior priest was quiet for some time, and Tazi suspected he was weighing her words.

  Finally, he announced, “Ibrandul protects all human travelers who come to him in the dark. Here you have come to seek answers from him. Over the many years, there have been more than a few persons who have tried to subvert the Skulking God’s powers. This necromancer of yours is not the first, nor, I suspect, will he be the last.”

  The Mysterious Lurker glanced behind himself before continuing, “Perhaps it is our book that this necromancer seeks. Over many years we have been collecting the sacred writings of Ibrandul. Even I have not read all of the words of the Lord of the Dry Depths, but I know there is great power in them. Power over the darkness.”

  With that, the priest turned and motioned to a stone dais behind him. Tazi could see a large tome resting on an altar. She approached it slowly.

  “I wonder,” she said aloud, “if this could have something to do with the scrolls I took from Ciredor.”

  The followers of Ibrandul looked quickly at one another.

  Tazi drew near the dais and saw that a scaled cover carefully protected the portfolio of parchment papers. With a tentative hand, she reached out to touch the book. The novice of Ibrandul, who had taken offence at her first words, broke away from his companions and ran to the dais.

  Before Tazi was able to lay a hand on the book, the Child of Ibrandul grabbed her fingers. He bent them back forcefully and twisted her hand hard. Tazi yelped in surprise and pain.

  “No gharab, no foreigner,” he explained roughly, “has the right to touch the Book of Ibrandul.”

  Steorf’s anger exploded. He abandoned Fannah’s side and launched himself toward the Child of Ibrandul. Tazi turned and saw Steorf raise his hands and shout a few words with no results. The Lurker ordered the other Children of Ibrandul to hold their places. The novice, ignoring his priest, laughed at the mage’s obvious distress.

  “No luck, gharab. Whatever magic you think you have will not work here in this temple.”

  When the youth saw concern cross Steorf’s face, he laughed again.

  “Have you forgotten how to fight?”

  Steorf grunted and sprang at the slighter Calishite. The young man easily sidestepped Steorf, and Tazi took the brunt of his bull’s rush. She was pushed back against the dais and knocked the tome over with a flailing hand. The parchments fluttered to the floor haphazardly amidst the cries of the horrified worshipers. Steorf glanced briefly at her before turning to face the Child of Ibrandul.

  “What’s the matter?” the young Calishite taunted him. “Not only can’t you fight, all you manage to do is make more of a mess.”

  He was practically dancing around Steorf. The mage took a roundhouse swing at him, and the Child of Ibrandul just managed to duck and prance back a few steps. With his hands on his hips, the novice teased Steorf some more.

  “You know, gharab, I’m starting to think even the blind woman could do a better job at this than you. And what do you think your woman”—he nodded toward Tazi—“thinks of you now that you’ve let her down … shown her just what kind of a man you are?”

  Tazi could see that Steorf had reached a boiling point at the mention of her. The Child of Ibrandul moved a step closer to Steorf as his cockiness had made him careless.

  Steorf shot his right hand out and grabbed a fistful of the novice’s purple robe.

  “I’ll show you what kind of a man I am,” he spat into the novice’s face.

  With his open left hand, Steorf delivered a wicked stab to the Child of Ibrandul’s throat. He released him, and the acolyte doubled over, suddenly unable to breathe. As the novice was trying to take in a deep, wheezy gasp of air, Steorf brought his knee up into his face and Tazi saw her friend smile in grim satisfaction as they all heard the sickening crunch of bone. She r
ealized Steorf was barely reining himself in.

  The novice pinwheeled backward, blood gushing from his broken nose. Steorf kicked out and struck the Child of Ibrandul in the kneecap, sending the novice crashing to the ground.

  Steorf didn’t stop there. He dropped down and straddled the young man’s chest and continued to pummel his already bloodied face. The Child of Ibrandul was unable to offer any resistance. Steorf was lost in a blood-red haze.

  Tazi was unable to stand any more. She rushed over to the two combatants and caught Steorf’s raised fist, pulling at his arm.

  “Stop it!” she screamed into his angry face.

  He pulled his hand free and landed another blow onto the Child of Ibrandul’s face. Tazi pushed Steorf off of the youth.

  “He’s finished!” she yelled, furious herself.

  Steorf sat on the floor, breathing hard. He gave Tazi an unreadable look. Several of the Children of Ibrandul surrounded their comrade, blocking him from Tazi’s view. Realizing there was nothing she could do for the fallen Child of Ibrandul, she walked slowly over to the stony-faced senior priest.

  “I offer my sincere apologies for what just transpired,” Tazi began slowly. “The only thing I might tender in our defense is that my friend acted to protect me after the novice made a threatening move. It is still no excuse, just an explanation.”

  A few moments passed before the priest answered. When he did, the old man did so carefully.

  “Let me say this was a shameful transgression on both sides, but I am quite certain I understand why the two men did what they did. No apologies are necessary.”

  Tazi let out her breath gratefully.

  “I was afraid that this might have destroyed any chance we had of retaining your help against Ciredor. That you might not believe in us and in what we’re trying to do.”

  “Misunderstandings are just that,” the Lurker replied. “I believe I know exactly what you are about. We will do what we can for you.”

  From the corner of her eye, Tazi could see Fannah kneel beside the fallen parchment papers. She gathered them up and carefully replaced the tome on the dais. Tazi sighed.