The Shifting Sands

Jasmine stared. “Never have I seen tracks like these,” she said finally. “What creature could have made them?”

“We cannot know,” Lief said flatly. “But whatever it is it is something that does not fear the sand beast, and something that likes gold. Perhaps it likes gems, too. Perhaps it is the Guardian.”

“But surely the sand beast is the Guardian!” Barda exclaimed.

Jasmine shook her head. “I think it is just one of the creatures of the Sands,” she said positively. “We have just seen it lay an egg. What is more, we passed an empty stomach skin on our way here. That hatchling had already emerged to fend for itself. There could be hundreds of sand beasts here. There could be thousands.”

Barda cursed under his breath.

The low, droning sound drummed in Lief’s ears. He stared at the circles on the sand. They seemed to mock him. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept being drawn back to them. He forced his gaze up to the sky — but there was no relief there. The unchanging roof of cloud seemed to press down on him, hemmed in as he was by faceless dunes. And all the time fear plucked at him like the flies which had returned in force, stinging, stinging …

Suddenly he could stand it no longer. With a muffled cry he leaped upon the tracks and kicked at them, destroying them, digging his heels deeply into the soft sand and scattering it everywhere.

“Lief! Stop!” he heard Barda call. But Lief was past listening. He shouted and fell to the ground, beating and tearing at it. Barda and Jasmine ran to him, trying to pull him to his feet. He fought them away.

There was a soft shifting sound and a low rumbling. Then the earth began to move. Lief heard Barda and Jasmine cry out. And just in time he grasped their hands as huge columns of sand began to thrust themselves upward all around them.

Jerked off their feet, the three tumbled together, rolling helplessly, blindly, as the sand roared and quaked beneath them. Lief could hear Jasmine screaming for Kree, and the bird’s answering screech. He could hear his own voice, too, groaning in fear.

There is something here.

He knew it. He could see nothing, for his eyes were tightly closed against the stinging sand, but he could feel a terrible, rage-filled presence all around him.

And he knew what it was. It was the thing that had been drawing him on. The thing that was hungry for what it sensed he could give it.

It wants the Belt … It will not rest until it has …

Then, suddenly, he felt the power withdraw. And immediately, as quickly as it had begun, the storm ceased and the ground quieted.

He lay still, dizzy and panting, as the last of the flying sand fell around him like rain.

With a rush of wings, Kree landed on Jasmine’s arm. He was unharmed, though powdered all over with red dust. He began ruffling and preening his feathers, trying to clean himself. Filli chattered excitedly inside Jasmine’s jacket. She murmured to him, calming him.

Lief brushed at his face with trembling hands.

“An earthquake,” mumbled Barda. “So — that is why this place is called the Shifting Sands. We should have realized …”

“It was not an ordinary earthquake,” snapped Jasmine. “It cannot simply be chance that Lief was kicking those marks away when it began. Lief, why did you do that? What is wrong with you? Are you ill?”

Lief could not answer. He was staring blankly around him.

Everything had changed. Dunes had collapsed and formed again in different places, and great valleys had opened where hills had been before. All tracks and signs that had previously marred the sands were gone. The ruined dune, the place where the Guards had died — both had disappeared.

He, Barda, and Jasmine may as well have been dropped from the sky into a part of the Sands they had never seen before. Only the low, droning sound was the same.

“Lief will not speak to me!” he heard Jasmine say to Barda in a frightened voice. She sounded very far away.

The sun was still blanketed by the clouds above. Lief could not tell which way was east and which way west. And he had been spun and tumbled so many times that he had no idea from which direction he had come.

So this is the beginning, he thought.

His glazed eyes fell on a mark in the sand, quite close to where he was lying. His throat seemed to close as he stared at it, and understood its meaning.

Lief felt Barda take him by the shoulder and shake him. He licked his lips and forced himself to speak. “Do not worry. I am all right,” he said huskily.

“You do not seem all right,” Barda growled. “You are acting as though you have lost your wits!”

“It is Jasmine who has lost something,” murmured Lief. “She has lost her dagger — the dagger with the carved crystal set in the hilt.”

“Oh, did you find it?” Jasmine exclaimed. “I am so glad. I dropped it just before the sandstorm ended. It was my father’s. I thought it was gone for good!”

“So it is, I fear.” Lief pointed to the drawing on the sand.

Jasmine and Barda gaped, speechless.

“The thing whose anger caused the storm accepted the dagger as tribute and left us in peace while it took it away,” Lief murmured.

“The circles in the sand! They were not tracks, but pictures of the gold coins, and the medal!” Barda gritted his teeth. “What sort of creature is this? Why does it leave marks to show what it has taken?”

Lief shrugged. “Why do sculptors carve figures of stone, or shop owners list their wares upon their windows, or fools write their names upon trees and walls? To show what they love. To show what they own. To leave a message for all who pass by that way.”

Jasmine was looking wary. “You are talking very strangely, Lief,” she said. “I do not like it. You speak as if you know this thing.”

Lief shook his head. “It is beyond knowing,” he said.

The verse they had seen carved on the stone at the crossroads kept running through his mind.

Death swarms within its rocky wall

Where all are one, one will rules all.

Be now the dead, the living strive

With mindless will to … survive.

He knew that he did not have the last lines quite right. But two words he was quite sure about.

Mindless will.

A thing of mindless will ruled the Shifting Sands and all that was precious in that fearsome place it gathered to itself. The terrifying creatures who shared its domain could have the flesh of their victims. The Guardian wanted only the treasure the victims carried.

For the first time since entering the Sands, Lief touched the Belt under his shirt, checking that the fastening was secure. As he did, his fingers brushed the topaz, and suddenly his mind cleared.

It was as though a dusty veil had been ripped from a window, allowing light and air to enter. But somehow he knew that the flash would not last long. There was another power at work here, and it was ancient and terrible.

He whirled around to Barda. “We must move on,” he said urgently. “Light is fading, and the place we seek is far from here, for the Belt is not yet warm. But I want you to fasten us together so that we cannot be separated. I must be in the middle, tied very tightly.”

Grimly, Barda did as he asked, using the rope they had bought from Mother Brightly. It was light, but very strong. Lief tested it, and nodded. “Do not release me, whatever I say,” he muttered.

His companions nodded, asking no questions.

They drank a little water. Then they set off, weapons drawn, linked together by their lifeline, as darkness slowly fell.

The night brought no moon, no stars. The cloud hung above them black, black, and it was very cold. They had lit a torch, but the light it gave was small, and they jumped at every shadow. For a long time Barda and Jasmine had wanted to stop, but always Lief had urged them on.

At last, however, they refused to listen to him any longer.

“We cannot go on like this, Lief,” Barda said firmly. “We must eat, and rest.”

Lief stood shaking his head, swaying on his feet. All he wanted was to lie down, yet somehow he knew that if he slept he would be in danger.

But already Jasmine had untied her end of the rope, dropped to her knees, and begun fumbling in her pack. In moments she had scraped a shallow hole in the sand and thrown the Guards’ clubs into it.

“Never have these been put to better use,” she said, laying the torch on top of the smooth, hard wood and adding some of Mother Brightly’s fire chips for good measure. “Soon we will have a fine, cheering blaze.”

She beckoned impatiently and Lief, unable to resist any longer, flopped down beside her. Barda, too, came to the fire. Seeing that Lief lay still, he groaned with relief, untied the binding cord from his own waist and stretched out.

The fire rose, crackling. The heavy sticks began to glow. The heat grew and spread.

Barda held out his hands. “Ah, wonderful!” he sighed with satisfaction.

And that was the last Lief heard. For the next moment, there was a great roar, the sand heaved, and the world about him seemed to explode.