City Under the Sand

by Jeff Mariotte

  “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 over 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 lon
g-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 Kadya. 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.”

  “It’s not for you,” Siemhouk said again. This time she sounded nervous, and Aric realized they were really in trouble. She had acted like she could control this thing that she had helped unleash. If she couldn’t, then they all might be doomed.

  “Whatever I desire is mine,” Tallik said. His voice boomed, echoing off the massive walls surrounding them. He laughed, and his laugh shook the trunks of the agafari trees. “I desire power, so I take it. I desire vengeance, against the world that turned on me, that summoned me here and then imprisoned me, and I will have it.”

  Aric held out his sword, but its point was closer to the demon’s waist than his throat.

  “Kill the demon!” Mazzax shouted from nearby.

  Good idea, Aric thought. If only I could.

  4

  The demon extended his hands again, and his tentacles. If he sucked more power from the assembled templars, Aric didn’t want to know how big he would get, how strong.

  So far, this plan had not worked as he’d hoped. Any moment, Tallik might start killing, destroying, seeking his vengeance.

  With little to lose, Aric stepped forward and sank his blade in the demon’s body.

  The sword burned. Aric could barely hang on to the grip, it grew so hot. The demon tilted his head down to look at Aric as if he were an insect, some sort of biting pest he could swat away.

  Aric drew the sword out, and saw Tallik flinch. He thrust it in again, through the demon’s waist. Pulled it out before it was too hot to touch.

  “I-I’ll start with you, then,” Tallik said. He curled up a tentacle and unrolled it quickly, aimed at Aric. When it hit it would knock Aric from the dais, possibly kill him.

  Aric sliced through it, and the tentacle’s tip fell wetly to the dais floor. The rest of it curled away again, regrowing the severed part as it did.

  “You don’t like steel,” Aric said. “You were imprisoned beneath tons of steel for all those years, and there’s a reason why. You can’t stand it.”

  The demon raised clawed hands and brought them toward Aric.

  “Aric!” Sheridia cried, from the ground behind the dais, Myrana by her side. “We’re with you!”

  He didn’t know what she meant, but suddenly, his blade glowed, much as the sculpture of Kadya had. Not with the same result in mind, Aric hoped.

  He struck at Tallik’s hand. His blade sliced flesh and the demon jerked his hand away.

  Heartened, Aric dropped into a defensive position. As long as the demon attacked him physically, he could defend himself. Sooner or later, though, Tallik would launch a magical attack. At that time …

  He didn’t want to think about that.

  Stab him.

  He heard the voice, Siemhouk’s voice. But he heard it in his mind, not through his ears. He had already tried stabbing. It hurt the demon, although possibly no more than it hurt Aric. Steel bothered Tallik, but could it kill him?

  Stab him, Aric!

  Siemhouk’s voice sounded in his head with more urgency than before. She knew more about this kind of thing than he did. He drew his sword back and Tallik swatted him with the back of his hand.

  The blow knocked Aric flying off the dais, into the crowd of templars. He crashed into some and fell to the ground amid a tangle of limbs and bodies. He lay there for several long moments, stunned by the impact of the demon’s huge hand. His sword had been flung from his hand.

  Aric shook his head. Blood sprayed from his nose and lips. He touched his jaw, which was tender, and wondered if it had been broken. He held his medallion in his fist, letting the steel give him strength, and he reached toward the sword. It skidded across the stones into his open hand.

  The templars didn’t attack him, but they backed away, clearing a space and eyeing him as if he might suddenly go berserk. The real danger, though, was Tallik, up on the dais. He was reaching out to the templars again, drawing their power into himself, growing ever larger. Templars seemed to shrink as Tallik stole their life force. Faces wrinkled, flesh puckered, shoulders stooped. Those who had been young moments before
suddenly looked like old women.

  Ruhm, Amoni and Sellis clambered onto the dais to stop him, but Tallik batted them away easily.

  Then Tallik left the dais, charging into the midst of the templars. He lashed out with fists and tentacles. He squeezed a templar until her ribcage cracked and caved in, tore the head off another, swept a third’s legs out from under her and stomped on her skull when she fell. Templars blasted him with spells, but he simply drank in the magic aimed at him and grew more powerful still.

  That won’t work, Aric. Siemhouk’s voice in his head again. She remained on the dais, watching the carnage with a gaping mouth. Only steel can stop him. You must stab him again.

  Aric tried to work through the panicking swarm, heading toward Tallik even as templars tried to flee in his direction. He didn’t think Siemhouk’s idea would do anything but get him killed. He didn’t have any better ideas, though. And if Tallik could so easily get the best of hundreds of templars, then he couldn’t be allowed to move through Nibenay and the rest of the world.

  My daughter is right, Aric. This Aric recognized as the liquid voice of the Shadow King himself. Stab the demon with your new sword.

  Aric wondered for an instant how Nibenay knew his sword was new.

  A templar ran into him, blind with terror, pushed off his chest and raced around him. Others bumped him as they rushed past. Blood pooled on the flagstones, bodies were everywhere, and Tallik continued his slaughter.

  Then Aric understood. The voices sounding his head, Siemhouk and Nibenay—they weren’t just speaking to him, they were inside him, seeing everything. The journey, the discovery of the trove of steel, the knowledge that the demon was imprisoned beneath it, the escape. They knew about Kadya accepting the demon into her—wanting it there.

  And as if that understanding turned a key, he realized that he saw flashes from their minds as well. They had both known that Kadya carried a demon inside her. Siemhouk had known it all along, had sent Kadya specifically to ensure that the demon would be brought back to Nibenay, where she believed she could control it. Nibenay had found out later, and decided to let his daughter’s plan play out, thinking he could make use of the demon when Siemhouk failed.