Sands of the Soul

CHAPTER 16

"Where are you?" Tazi screamed.

She, Steorf, and Fannah were on the Trade Way for only a short time when the sandstorm from the west reached them. At first Tazi thought it wasn't too bad. The sun hadn't set yet, and with the three of them side by side, Tazi didn't understand Fannah's extreme concern. It was not comfortable, by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't that bad, and the towers weren't that far away.

We can do this, she thought.

"I think we'll be all right," she told Fannah, raising her voice over the wind.

Fannah shook her head in disagreement.

"This is just the edge of the storm," she said. "It's only going to get worse."

As they moved forward slowly, following the track of the Trade Way, the wind picked up as Fannah had warned, and Tazi started to revise her opinion. She and Steorf had to squint to keep the scathing grains out of their eyes. Tazi was certain she was losing layers of skin to the blasts of sand that only got stronger. The three had no choice but to hang onto each other, and at one point a wild gust tore Steorf's sack off his shoulders and tossed it behind them.

Tazi turned to follow its tumbling course, one hand shielding her eyes.

"I'll get it," she yelled to Steorf.

Part of her still hoped the writings contained some clue of how to destroy Ciredor, and she didn't want to lose their last weapon against him.

"Forget it," Steorf replied.

Fannah simply shouted, "No!"

Nevertheless, Tazi broke from their grip and trotted after the sack, which turned end over end just out of her reach.

The wind pushed Tazi to the left, as though a giant hand shoved her, and she had to compensate for that as she ran. The sack, however, blew farther away. Eventually, as the sun started toward the horizon, Tazi lost sight of it. She slowed down and realized that Ciredor's writings were lost to the desert storm.

And so was she.

Tazi turned around and could only see growing darkness.

She shouted for her friends, but the wind had reached such a frenzied pitch, Tazi couldn't even hear her own voice. She cupped her hands around her mouth and tried again, but there was only the scream of the storm. She stood and swayed as the winds buffeted her body.

Curling her hands around her eyes, she desperately searched for any sign of Steorf and Fannah, but she saw nothing but ever-changing patterns of sand. It was dizzying. There was no end to the desert, no sky, and no ground below. There were only howls. She felt as though she was back within the gate. Her heart was pounding, and Tazi could taste her fear.

That won't do me any good, she told herself sternly. Fannah and Steorf need me.

Without budging an inch, Tazi tried hard to calm herself.

I'm sure I didn't go that far, and as soon as I gave up on the sack I turned sharply around. If I'm right, she reasoned, then I need only to keep walking in a straight line and I'll get back to Fannah and Steorf.

But if I'm wrong, she thought, I'll walk off into the storm.

With that in mind, Tazi started the tricky march back.

The wind continued to push her from side to side, so she tried walking as best she could heel to toe to keep a straight course. She dropped to her knees once and tried to see if she could still feel the paved Way, but the wind and the sand made it impossible for her to tell. She gave up on that and went back to her original plan.

Time lost all meaning to her, and Tazi knew she was close to panicking. It had taken her too long on the way back and she was certain she should have found her friends by now.

She stopped and tried to scan the distance. Having very nearly given in to despair, she thought she heard something just above the whine of the wind.

"Steorf!" she screamed back and listened.

The faint sound grew a little louder, and she cried out, "Keep calling!"

Tazi was certain it was her friends. She lowered her head against the gusts that buffeted her and walked like someone drunk, with great, staggering strides. She looked ahead, and two shadowy shapes remained constant while everything around them was chaos. Tazi marched harder and nearly collapsed into her friends' waiting arms. The three clung to each other for a moment.

"What were you thinking?" Steorf finally shouted into her face.

"Ciredor's book," she started to explain. "I had to try to retrieve it."

"Let the winds have it," he told her. "We could have lost you."

"Not a chance!" she shouted back, a crooked grin fixed on her face.

"We can't let go of each other," Fannah cried. "Not even for a second or all will be lost."

"How are we going to find the towers now?" Steorf asked.

Tazi was momentarily worried as well. She realized they were traveling blind in the storm-and there was her answer.

"Fannah, you're going to have to lead us the rest of the way," she cried.

In the near darkness of sunset, Tazi wasn't sure but thought Fannah nodded to her.

"Hold on," she told Steorf and Tazi.

The three leaned into the wind and lumbered forward. Tazi kept a tight grip on Steorf and Fannah. To her, the disorientation only grew worse the darker it got. There was no frame of reference anywhere, and Tazi turned over all responsibility to Fannah, hoping that her blind friend's sense of touch and hearing, much sharper than either hers or Steorf's would guide them through. Lost in a situation where she was simply passing through time, odd thoughts fluttered through Tazi's mind. Strangely enough, she couldn't seem to get a fable out of her mind.

When she was very young, her father had once told her a story of children lost in the woods. As a grown woman, Tazi could see the story for what it was-a cautionary tale meant to scare her into sensibility-but when she first heard the account, Tazi had wept uncontrollably, leaving her father very flustered with a teary three year old.

As Tazi recalled, her mother had been the only one who could console her by telling her that a guardian spirit looked out for all lost children. In the midst of the storm, Tazi smiled as she followed her spirit to safety.

"Can you see anything?" Steorf yelled to her, jarring her from her reverie.

"Nothing yet," Tazi called back to him. "But if anyone is going to be able to find this, it's Fannah."

"I hope so," he called out and clutched tighter to her arm.

Undaunted by the raging storm, Tazi watched how Fannah never hesitated in their course. She wanted to ask her just how she was guiding them but decided the fewer distractions Fannah had, the better off they'd all be.

The swirling grains and incessant howling were almost nauseating to Tazi. She tried closing her eyes, but it only made matters worse.

Maybe she can feel the pavement under her sandals, Tazi guessed, or maybe she's marching in the original direction we started in, since this tempest can't disorient her in the same way it does us.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she tried to get Fannah's attention.

"Fannah," she called, and bumped into Steorf.

The mage had stopped walking.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"Look there," he replied, pointing ahead.

Barely discernible in the twilight was a large shape looming in the growing darkness.

"The east minaret," Fannah announced.

Tazi swallowed hard.

"You did it," she called to Fannah.

The three marched side by side up to the entrance. So close to the edifice, Tazi was able to make out some details, despite her reduced vision. The tower was about forty feet tall, as Fannah had said. Tazi reached out and brushed her hand against the surface, feeling stone and brick.

"I think we can let go of each other as long as we're touching the building," she told Steorf and Fannah. "But no one step away alone, understand? We need to find the entrance."

She laid both her hands on the wall and leaned her head against it, desperately needing the feeling of stability the minaret offered to stop her churning stomach.

When she felt better, Tazi joined Steorf and Fannah as they each slid around the building, feeling for a door.

Fannah called out, "It's over here!"

Steorf and Tazi felt their way over to her.

"We're lucky," Fannah shouted. "The doors aren't buried too deeply."

The three fell to their knees and used their hands and arms to rake away what little sand had piled up around the doors. When it was mostly cleared, Tazi tried to pull the doors open, but they refused to budge.

"I think they're locked," she called to her friends.

The wind was picking up in intensity.

Here's a test worthy of a lockpick, she thought, in the dark, in a storm, with that monster on the loose.

Before she could pull out the tools she had stashed inside her vest, Steorf asked, "Are you sure they're locked?"

"In this storm," Tazi admitted, "I'm not sure of a damn thing."

"Let me try something," he yelled.

Tazi placed her hand on his arm.

"Are you sure?" she asked but didn't hear his response.

When Steorf placed his hands on the latches, there was a flash of green so bright it pierced the gloom like a beacon. Steorf was knocked off of his feet as the doors swung open. Tazi knelt down to help him get up.

"Are you all right?" she shouted into his face.

She could see that Steorf was groggy.

"Fannah," she called to her other friend, "grab his arm."

They half dragged Steorf through the doors. Tazi lowered him to the ground, and both she and Fannah fought to close the tower doors, now flapping in the storm. They managed to pull them shut, and the scream of the storm was halved in intensity.

"Dark," Tazi shouted and realized how unnecessarily loud she was.

She checked on Steorf.

"You opened them," she told the dazed mage. "I don't think I would've been able to."

"Ciredor's wards…" he whispered, tired from his efforts.

"You and Fannah stay here. I'll go to the top," she told him.

He grabbed her hand and said, "I don't think he's here. I think he simply didn't need anything in this tower, or didn't want anything disturbed. But be careful anyway."

"You know me," she warned him with a wink.

"There should be a brazier at the top," Fannah reminded her. "The stories say that if we get both the minarets' braziers lit, the two towers will be protected from the elements."

"And maybe if Ciredor isn't here," Tazi mused, "we can use that shield to keep him out and destroy his gift. If he can't cast his spell on this special night in this special location, maybe everything will be ruined. Stay here."

Tazi got up and looked around for a torch in the dark, dusty tower. She spotted one along one of the walls and pried it loose. While she felt inside her vest for her chunk of flint, Steorf pointed a finger at the torch and it burst into flames. She graced him with a quick smile, transferred the torch to her left hand, and drew out her sword with her right.

The tower wasn't very wide, and she found the stairs soon enough, passing by a row of very old armaments. She debated about rummaging through the swords and pikes that were lined up against the wall but decided to stay with her blade. After years of training, it was like an extension of her arm.

She started up the steps.

Tazi walked along the outer edge of the stairs out of habit. That was the section of planking Cale had taught her years ago that always had the least chance of creaking, though it would take sharp ears to hear anything with the storm raging outside. The steps were divided in sections of ten, turning at right angles. In the center was an opening that ran the whole height of the tower. If she leaned to the side, Tazi could look up and down the length of the stairway. One wrong step could bring someone crashing down very quickly.

" 'My life is like a broken stair, winding round a ruined tower, and leading nowhere,' " she whispered-a phrase from an old taproom love song she had heard once.

She stopped at the first level and peered at the floor. There was nothing other than a series of bunks that lined the walls. Tazi reasoned that at least one garrison must have been housed there long before.

Between them and the spheres of protection, Tazi noted, travelers would have had it easy.

I wonder what happened to cause this to fall apart? she asked herself.

She made herself a mental note to ask Fannah about it all when they got back to Calimport.

There's that certainty again, she caught herself thinking. Do I really believe we're going to make it, or is it simply because I cannot conceive of death?

The third level was devoid of anything, and Tazi cautiously approached the fourth level. She was careful but had had a sneaking suspicion the whole march up that she wouldn't find anything.

If Ciredor had gone to the trouble of barring the entrance, she thought, he was probably not inside, like Steorf suspected.

She didn't smell his foul presence.

When she entered the rooftop parapet, she could see the sandstorm swirl around the tower, but the sound was still somewhat muted where she stood. Tazi caught a glint of her torch reflected back at her. She moved over to what looked like an open arch and stabbed at the empty space with her sword. The tip of her blade clinked against something, and she guessed that at least part of the parapet was glassed in. Set in the center of the room was a brass brazier resting on a stone base.

Tazi moved over to the brazier and held her torch above it. She studied the roof that was balanced on the deceptively slender arches. Set in a circle at the point of the roof, Tazi could see several blue crystals wink in the firelight. She sheathed her guardblade.

Tazi set the torch into the brazier, and within a minute, a small flame burned where no fire had been in thousands of years.

Tazi watched, awestruck, as the heat of the flames warmed the crystals and they came to life. The sapphire gems shone brilliantly, and outside Tazi could see the sand take on an azure color as light radiated from the minaret. The swirling seemed to diminish slightly, and the howls died down.

"Fannah was right," she said to herself.

Tazi rushed down the stairs and nearly turned an ankle on a loose step in her haste. She caught herself and kept going, cursing herself for not taking the torch with her. At the bottom of the stairs Fannah and Steorf were waiting for her. Steorf was unsteady on his feet, and she could see he held up his hand to illuminate the room.

"It worked," she told them. "Just like you said it would, Fannah."

"So all the stones were there," Fannah remarked.

"Yes," Tazi answered, "they were all mounted in the ceiling. Why?"

"I have heard stories of raiders who stole some of the gems along the Trade Way and sold them for huge fortunes in Memnon and Calimport. The gems, as I understand it, can only be found in the Omlarandin Mountains of Tethyr," she explained. "So they are basically irreplaceable, and if even one is missing it will not work."

"They're all there. Now let's light the other and see if we can lock Ciredor out," Tazi told them, buoyed by her success in the tower.

Tazi opened the doors to the east minaret, prepared to be blasted by the harsh winds, but the stones were working their magic. It was noticeably calmer, though the sand still swirled and stung their eyes. The west minaret was in view, a sharp outline against the setting sun, and the three didn't need to form a human chain to cross the Trade Way.

As soon as they reached the west tower, Steorf raised his hands to remove the wards. Tazi saw him lower them slowly, and she wondered if he was feeling weaker again, having expended too much of his sorcerous abilities.

"What is it?" she asked.

He turned to her and said ominously, "There aren't any wards on this entrance."

Tazi drew her sword and stepped inside, followed closely by Steorf and Fannah.

They shut the doors behind them, and Tazi said quietly, "I have a feeling we shouldn't get our hopes too high. I don't think this is going to be as easy as it looks."

Steorf turned sharply at Tazi's statement and grew thoughtful.

"What is it?" Tazi asked him.

"I think 'hope,' " he said, "just might be Ciredor's downfall."

Tazi nodded but was only partially paying attention, completely on guard.

"We might have beaten him here," she told her friends. "Stay down here and guard the entrance."

"What?" Steorf whispered harshly. "I'm coming with you."

"No," Tazi stopped him. "If he's not here, I need you guarding the entrance to stop him. If he is here-" she paused-"a few stairs won't slow you down."

Secretly, she knew he was mostly spent, and a part of her was afraid he would only slow her down when she faced Ciredor.

Steorf reluctantly agreed. He pulled a torch down and started to hand it to her but Tazi refused.

"I think it's better if I don't make myself too much of a target. Better to be in darkness," she whispered. "I've got my flint and a bit of tinder in my vest."

She patted the pocket to verify its contents.

"Luck to you," Fannah bid her.

"See you soon," she told them.

Tazi made her way carefully over to the stairs. Out of some childish superstition, she didn't glance back at her friends as she climbed the tower steps.

While the first two floors were nearly identical to the east minaret, Tazi noticed some differences farther up. By the faint light that came from the small lookout windows cut into the stones, Tazi could see some strange markings on the wall. Closer inspection under the weak, blue glow revealed writings very similar to the spidery scrawls that had covered Ciredor's scrolls. Spaced between some of the blocks of writing were nooks that housed obscene statues. Tazi had to gasp as she recognized one carved figure from the tallhouse Ciredor had rented in Selgaunt.

"Pig," she whispered and was startled to hear the quiver in her own voice.

She tightened her grip on her blade and continued up.

She entered the darkened parapet. Though the outside continued to glow faintly, the room was still very shadowy. Tazi held her breath and strained her eyes in the gloom, trying to discover why it was so dark. As best she could tell, Tazi thought that this lookout tower's glass walls were lined with something.

Perhaps Ciredor wanted to shut out the light, she thought. I'll worry about it later.

Tazi realized that she had very little time. The sun had finally disappeared, and she knew Fannah's life was in mortal jeopardy. She moved over to the center of the room and was relieved to see that the brazier was intact.

But that relief faded when she craned her head back to study the roof. The pale light from outside refracted through the crystals, and Tazi could see a hole of light. That meant one crystal was missing. Her heart sank.

"Dark and empty," she hissed. "Not when we're this close!"

Remembering what Fannah had told her about thieves and the rarity of the crystals, Tazi momentarily feared the worst. She stood still, feeling her heart pounding.

"No," she finally said aloud.

She dropped to her knees and began to feel around on the floor.

If nothing else, she admitted to herself, Ciredor is thorough. Either all the gems would be here or none would.

Her first pass revealed nothing but pebbles. Then the thought occurred to her that he might have removed one as he left, sort of like taking a key so the towers couldn't be locked behind him.

She refused to accept that idea, hating herself for even thinking it, and made a second pass on the floor. After a moment, her fingers brushed something hard and cold. She grabbed at the object and felt its many, smooth facets.

"Got you," she whispered.

Tazi stood up and climbed onto the stone support for the brazier. Stretching her full length, she was just barely able to wedge the gem into the empty spot. She jumped down and felt a pain resonate in her joints. Her body was once again telling her it needed water.

"Soon," she whispered. "We're almost done."

Tazi pulled out the sack that contained her flint and a tiny pile of tinder. She made a small mound in the center of the brazier and searched the floor for a bit of stone. When she found a suitable chunk, she held the rock over the pile of tinder and struck her flint against it. It took a few tries, but Tazi got the spark she needed. She blew gently on the combustible fluff, and a small flame erupted. It was enough to heat the brazier, which in turn heated the stones in the ceiling.

But instead of illuminating the room in a blue glow, the stones lit everything with an amethyst hue.

The winds fell completely silent outside, and Tazi was startled by the absence of sound. It was absolutely still. However, what was more startling was what the purple glow revealed about the room she was in. Though the stones hadn't heated to their full intensity yet, the light was sufficient for Tazi to make out what had blocked the glass of the lookout tower. Encircling the entire room were mummified bodies. Tazi was transfixed by the macabre tableau.

The tiny flame warmed the crystals even more, and Tazi could see that it was the crystal that she had replaced that was the source of the purple hue. Unlike the Tethyr crystals that had been set in the tower by artisans of the Shoon Imperium, the one Tazi had fixed in the ceiling was an unholy, amethyst gemstone. The gem flickered to full strength from the heat of the brass brazier and stronger beams of light shot out of it. Each beam struck one of the mummified bodies and illuminated their faces.

Despite her repulsion, Tazi walked around the tower room and studied the dead. She had no way of knowing how long the bodies had been there, since each was dried but perfectly preserved. There were all manner of creatures hanging from the glass. Some she knew. Others were a mystery as to what manner of creature they had been in life. The flutter of one's robe caught her attention, and Tazi could see silver circles glinting on the deep purple cloak. She thought of lizard scales and realized she knew who it was before she saw his face.

"The Mysterious Lurker," she whispered. "This is your reward for trusting Ciredor."

Tazi fell silent when she saw the mummy to her right.

She reached out a shaking hand to the face that even in death she would always recognize: Ebeian Hart.

"How did he do this?" she asked and was once again denied the release of tears by her dry body. "And why?"

She cocked her head to one side and hugged herself, now unable to touch the elf who had meant so much to her. She didn't notice the soft steps behind her.

"What a lovely surprise to find you here," the silky voice whispered, "though it really isn't a surprise at all."

Tazi's blood froze and she turned slowly around with her weapon held high, her sunken eyes open wide.

Standing by the stairwell, Ciredor was a study in black. He folded his arms across his chest and looked affectionately at Tazi.

"My dear Thazienne," he told her easily, "welcome home."