City Under the Sand: A Dark Sun Novel (Dungeons & Dragons: Dark Sun)

by Jeff Mariotte

  His companions did as he said. Behind them, Aric knew, was a trail of metal pieces and a man’s head. But the mekillot had managed a little more speed, as the load lightened. Anyone standing on top of the Mekillot Gate could look back and see that they had shed cargo, but only the musicians were there, and they were focused on their playing. The guards at the gate danced without enthusiasm or expression, probably tired by now of watching the argosies roll past. Aric summoned Corlan to stand beside him at the reins, and the guards waved them in with hardly a glance.

  “We’re in,” Corlan said as the gates clanged shut behind them. “Now what?”

  Aric had no answer. He had only worked out how to get inside the city walls. From there, he had no plans.

  2

  Sage’s Square!” Tunsall said from the darkness of the argosy’s interior.

  “What?”

  “All the argosies will be at Sage’s Square. Nibenay will want the people to see them. They may even be stopped and opened up so the people can see all the metal they’ve brought back. They’ll be well guarded, of course, but they’ll be in a public place for at least a day or two.”

  Tunsall was right. There were still smatterings of onlookers lining the road toward Sage’s Square, although no doubt there had been many more at the front of the expedition.

  “We’ll go to the Square,” he said. “But then what?”

  “Then on to the Naggaramakam,” Sheridia said. “That’s where Kadya is.”

  That made sense, but Aric knew the doing of it would be more complicated. He guided the mekillot, Corlan still beside him so anyone looking inside would see two people, as there had been, and they made their way into Sage’s Square. There amid the thick grove of agafari trees, the other argosies had been parked, some with their backs open, and throngs of people gazed past the guards at the treasure within.

  Instead of following suit, Aric guided his mekillot around the square’s outer rim. At the entrance to the road leading toward the Naggaramakam—this road considerably narrower than the first, and roundabout, as no roads led directly to the Shadow King’s private estate—two city guards blocked the way.

  “Why have you not pulled over?” one asked.

  “We were told that the Shadow King wants to see one load for himself,” Corlan answered. They had briefly discussed this possibility, and Aric was glad they had. “You don’t expect him to come to where all those people are, do you?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then get out of our way, imbecile!” Corlan shouted at the man with the imperious air of one used to being obeyed. Aric had never known that sensation, and likely never would.

  Corlan was convincing enough, and the two guards stepped away, letting them pass. The mekillot followed Aric’s urging, and soon the big armored wagon made its way down a road barely wide enough to let it pass without scraping the ornately sculpted buildings on either side.

  “This might work,” Myrana said after they had passed the guards.

  “What happens inside Naggaramakam?” Ruhm asked.

  The dwarf’s voice bounced off the argosy’s walls. “We kill the demon!”

  “That might not be so simple,” Tunsall said. “She’ll be surrounded by other templars, and slave guards. We’ll be strangers, barging in—if we can get in—and attacking one of their own.”

  “We need some way to make Tallik show himself,” Myrana said.

  “There might be a way to do that,” Sheridia said.

  “How?” Myrana asked.

  “Everyone in Nibenay has heard rumors about the Shadow King’s palace,” Sheridia explained. “It’s built in the shape of his head. His many wives are carved into it, forming his hair.”

  “How does that help?” Myrana asked.

  “It’s said that those sculptures are more than just carvings in stone,” Sheridia said. “That there’s some essence of each wife contained in the figure. If one can destroy the figure, that forces the templar wife to reveal her true self. Naturally, it has never happened, that I know of. And I’m certain the palace is a nest of secrets many layers deep. I’m only telling it because I’ve heard it spoken, more than once, and from people with far vaster stores of knowledge than mine.”

  “It sounds worth a try,” Aric said from the front.

  “If we can figure out which of those many figures represents Kadya,” Solyara said. “And find a way to destroy it.”

  “We’ll have a chance soon enough!” Corlan called. The argosy was just rounding a bend. “We’re at the gates!”

  The Naggaramakam was surrounded by walls towering fifty feet high. Beyond those walls, when one was far enough back, the tops of huge agafari trees, in the Shadow King’s private garden, could be seen. The sun had almost sunk below the horizon; in the shadow of those walls it was already dusk.

  As the wagon drew up to the massive wooden gates, Aric pondered the impossibility of the task ahead of them. They had to venture into the inner city, the Forbidden Dominion, which no one had ever done and lived to tell about. Once there they had to identify which of hundreds of sculptures, on a tall palace, stood for a particular templar wife. They had to destroy that, revealing the demon inside—they hoped. And then they had to destroy the demon, and hope that because they had shown it for what it was, the other templars, and the Shadow King himself, would let them leave again.

  He had been surprised when the family Thrace had agreed to come to Nibenay, after Myklan’s death. If they survived the next few minutes, that surprise would be dwarfed by the astonishment he would feel.

  A trio of goliath soldiers stood before the gate into the Naggaramakam. “Turn away!” one shouted. “There is no admittance here!”

  “But the Shadow King has asked to have a wagonload of steel brought before him for his inspection,” Aric argued. “We’ve been ordered here by the templar Kadya!”

  The soldiers traded glances, uncertain but made anxious by the mention of Kadya’s name. “We’ve heard no such orders,” one of them said.

  “Open the gates, and let us pass!” Aric insisted. “Just because you’re not trusted with this information doesn’t mean we don’t have a mission to fulfill!”

  “No one comes through these gates,” the soldier said. “Except templars and slaves—”

  “What do you think we are?” Aric asked.

  “No slave known to me.”

  “And you know every slave who ever set foot in the Naggaramakam?”

  “No …”

  “Open the gate. When we find Kadya we’ll ask her if she’d like to discuss this with you in person!”

  The guard swallowed, but made a gesture toward whatever unseen operator controlled the gates. Chains rattled and the wooden barricades began to part. As soon as they did, Aric prodded the mekillot ahead, in case the soldiers changed their minds.

  As the argosy surged forward, one of the goliath soldiers peered inside the front window. Corlan’s clothing was torn and filthy from the trip, but still obviously of expensive make. And inside, crowded in the shadows but still visible, were the rest. “Stop!” the soldier cried. “It’s a trick! Close the gate!”

  It took a few moments for the gate’s direction to reverse, with an agitated clanking and grinding of the chain. The soldiers swarmed around the argosy, more joining the first three. Aric urged the huge lizard on, and although the closing gates rasped against the wagon’s sides, it passed between them.

  Soldiers grabbed the argosy. “Stop, you!” one shouted.

  Big hands reached in toward Aric, and he drew his sword with his right hand, holding the reins in his left. He sliced the goliath’s arm. The soldier yanked it away. “Sound the alarm!” he cried.

  The back of the wagon banged open, spilling Sellis, Myrana, and Amoni onto the road. Neither had weapons in their hands, and after a moment, Aric saw why—those hands were engaged in the peculiar gesturing common to spellcasters. One of the soldiers was beginning to shout something, and his cry was cut off as if a hand had clamped ov
er his mouth. The others went mute at the same time, arms pinned to their sides like they were wrapped in invisible rope.

  “Go!” Amoni cried, jumping back into the argosy. “That’ll last a few minutes, but not long.”

  Sellis and Myrana clambered aboard after her, shutting the door again, and Aric drove the wagon into the depths of the forbidden city.

  Instantly, shadows enveloped them. The sunset was gone, lost in a gloom created by the thick foliage overhead and the gargantuan walls surrounding it all. Inside, the road became a vast plaza, multilayered, with benches and sections of garden and private nooks where one might go to meditate. It looked like it would be a pleasant place to spend time during the day, shaded and with the choice of being alone or visiting with others. It was empty now, though, whether because of the imminent fall of night or because everyone was gathered elsewhere, Aric knew not. All he knew was that they had not yet found the fires sending colored smoke into the sky … and that before them sat the strangest building he had ever seen.

  “The palace,” Corlan said, his voice more a breath than a whisper.

  Aric had only ever had a glimpse of Nibenay, since the sorcerer-king had stayed in the shadows the one time they met. But if the building across the plaza, still largely hidden by thick agafari trunks, was meant to resemble him, then it was as he had looked a long, long time ago, or else it was a work of great imagination.

  The massive figure’s chin met the ground at plaza level. Its mouth gapped open, a door, Aric realized, with steps leading up to it. The teeth were even and straight. Above that flared the figure’s nose, then its inset eyes, and a smooth, tall brow. Then the hair, cascading back the brow and all down the sides each lock the figure of a woman. Thousands of them.

  And why not? Nibenay had lived a thousand years or more, it was said. He had well more than a hundred wives now, perhaps as many as two hundred. They were human, and although their association with Nibenay might confer longer lives, they would still die at some point. Over those thousand years, he could easily have had several thousand wives, each immortalized in stone upon the walls of his palace.

  The stone Nibenay appeared to be a passingly handsome man. The real Nibenay, Aric knew, was anything but.

  As if sensing an end to the long journey, the mekillot picked up speed across the plaza. When it seemed as if they might go straight to the huge palace’s chin, directed there by the banks and levels of the plaza, a side route presented itself, leading around the palace. Aric steered the mekillot that way.

  Toward the rear of the palace, shifting multicolored shadows offered evidence that they neared the fires. Night’s cold wasn’t far off, but within the warmth of those fires, Aric was convinced, the chill would be kept at bay.

  And that’s where they would find Kadya, and Tallik, and an end to all this. He reined in the mekillot, who heaved to a stop with a grateful sigh.

  “From here we go on foot,” Aric said. “The argosy is too large, and we’ll be trapped in it.”

  “Trapped, or safe,” Mazzax said.

  “You’re the one who wanted to kill the demon.”

  “Kill the demon!” The dwarf’s single-minded fixation was, Aric knew, not uncommon among his kind.

  He just hoped they could succeed at doing what Mazzax wanted.

  3

  Sounds of celebration, of hundreds of female voices, of song and laughter and the crackling of huge fires, met them before they turned the corner. Behind the castle was another broad plaza, this one with fewer plantings, just a handful of tall agafari trees scattered about. Eight huge bonfires burned, their heat bouncing off the palace walls and the exterior walls of the compound, warming the air to a comfortable level. Behind the palace, the wall was nothing but sculpted women shaped into flowing hair.

  Templars filled the area between the fires, girls and women of every age from their teens onward. Most were naked, or nearly so. The mood was jubilant. Kadya sat on a dais at the near end of the space, accompanied by the consorts. They faced toward the crowd. A larger chair, almost a throne, stood beside Kadya in the center, Aric couldn’t see its occupant from here.

  Getting to Kadya would not be difficult, but doing so unnoticed, when nearly every eye in the place was pointed their way, would be virtually impossible.

  “Well?” he whispered.

  “Kill her!” Mazzax said.

  “No,” Sheridia said. “If killing Kadya would kill Tallik, perhaps it would be worth a try. But if we want the templars to know about the demon, it needs to be forced out of her.”

  “The sculpture,” Aric said.

  “Yes. But which one, I have no idea.”

  “Let’s find out. Ruhm, give me a boost.”

  Ruhm handed Sellis his war club and took Aric’s waist in his hands. His idea of a boost was to hurl Aric up onto the dais. Aric landed hard, his sword drawn, and a gasp of surprise silenced the plaza.

  Aric held his sword’s tip at Kadya’s throat. He managed to keep his hand from shaking, though barely. His friends had stood by him, against all odds; he owed them his best effort, if it took his last breath.

  “You,” Kadya said. “Everyone has been warned about you.”

  “I’m no killer,” Aric said. He spoke loudly, so the crowd could hear.

  “You’ve never killed?” another voice said. It came from the throne. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Siemhouk, Nibenay’s daughter, sitting there with a wry grin on her face.

  “I didn’t say that. But whatever lies Kadya has told, that I’m a traitor or a member of the Veiled Alliance, they’re not true. I ran because I knew she meant to kill me, that’s all. Because of what I found out about her.”

  “We brought the bodies of your fellow Nibenese back to the city with the expedition, Aric,” Kadya said. “Perhaps you’d like to see the evidence of your handiwork.”

  “I didn’t kill them. You can’t prove I did.”

  “At any rate,” Siemhouk said, “you’re interrupting our celebration. Have you a good reason, or should we strike you and your friends down where you stand?”

  “A very good reason indeed. Kadya is possessed by a demon named Tallik—a demon with a long-standing hatred for the world. If he’s allowed to gain any power by being here, among all of you, then however many members of her own expedition Kadya killed will be as nothing compared to how many Tallik will kill.”

  Kadya chuckled. “And you spoke of proof? What proof have you of that ridiculous charge?”

  “I don’t know how to expose a demon,” Aric admitted. “But there’s a tale that says destroying the sculpture of a templar will reveal her secrets, so that might be a place to start.” He waved at the sculpted wall. “And if you’re hiding nothing, you’ve nothing to fear. Which one of those is you?”

  “Utter nonsense,” Kadya said, pointing. “I’m that one—third from the left, seventh row from the top. Go ahead, destroy part of our husband’s palace. It’ll do you no good, but I’ll be curious to see how he decides to punish you.”

  “Sheridia,” Aric said, anxiety tightening his voice. “Do you have a way to destroy that sculpture?”

  “Wait,” Siemhouk said. “Kadya, why lie to them? You know yours is the eleventh from the left, nine rows from the bottom. It’s a better than passing resemblance, too, if you look closely.”

  “My sister,” Kadya said. “I believe you’re mistaken—”

  “I’m not.” Siemhouk’s voice was firm. “That’s you.”

  “Why would you …?”

  “We all have our reasons for doing what we do, haven’t we? You for leading the expedition, and for returning, and trying to hide the demon you carry. I, perhaps, for wanting to free that demon from within you.”

  Aric held the sword near Kadya’s throat, ready to strike if need be. “Sheridia …”

  “Eleventh from the right, nine rows up,” Sheridia said. “Amoni, Sellis, Myrana, you’re ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Aric didn’t dare rip his gaze from Kad
ya. Behind him, he heard the rustle of motion, and then the stone sculpture that Siemhouk claimed represented Kadya began to glow with a yellow inner fire. After a few moments of that, it burst apart, stone flying everywhere. Several templars cried out when bits of rubble struck them, but nobody seemed badly hurt.

  Before Aric’s blade, though, Kadya began to change. Her flesh undulated, shifting color, changing texture. It peeled away in long strips, revealing another layer beneath, this one mottled and gray-green and sickly. Her chin grew long, her jaw jutting, the bones of her brow reshaping themselves, bulging out. Stubs of horn pushed through her flesh above eyes that turned yellow-green, and tusks flanked her nose. Tentacles burst from paper-thin flesh.

  To the shock of nearly every templar in the plaza, Tallik revealed himself.

  Aric had seen the demon before, in visions, so although he was appalled and surprised, he knew more or less what to expect. Siemhouk, too, appeared not to be taken off guard.

  “You’re Tallik,” she said.

  “I am,” the demon said. His voice was rough, gravelly and sibilant at once, as if leaking out through a rocky passage. He shook off shreds of Kadya’s skin, like they were some web he had walked through.

  “You’ve lost your host.”

  “Don’t need her,” Tallik said.

  “You’ll need a host of some kind, though.”

  “For a while, I did. No more. The energy here, the strength … it fills me.”

  “It’s not for you to have,” Siemhouk said. “It’s spoken for. But if you’ll swear fealty to me, the one who freed you—”

  The demon laughed, showing two tongues. He extended arms and tentacles out toward the templars, then slowly curled them in. He might have been drawing the very life force off the onlookers. As his hands and arms curled toward his sides, and his tentacles rolled up, he began to grow. He was already taller than Kadya had ever been, and broader. But with everyone watching, he gained inches, gained pounds. Before he was done, he towered over Siemhouk and even Aric.

  “I like it,” he said, chuckling again. “The power here, it feeds me.”