Deltora Quest #4: The Shifting Sands (8 page)

J
asmine 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.

L
ief was alone, among rippling dunes that had no ending. He knew that somehow the night had passed. Light was filtering through the thick, yellow cloud. The sand beneath his feet was warm.

It was day. His terrible vision had come to pass, as he had always known it would.

He remembered the sand rising beneath him in darkness and tossing him into the air. He remembered the sound of Jasmine’s and Barda’s voices shouting his name. He remembered the burning coals of the fire spraying through the night, dying as they flew.

But that was all. Now there were only his own tracks trailing off into the distance over smooth, sandy wastes. Now there were only the dragging, useless tails of the rope still tied around his waist. Now there was only the droning sound, louder now, filling his ears, filling his mind.

He was clutching something in his hand. He looked down, and willed his fingers to open.

It was the painted wooden bird that Jasmine had put in her pocket in Rithmere. He must have found it, picked it up, after …

Numbly, he slipped the little object into the top pocket of his shirt. His legs were aching. His throat was parched — dry as the sand itself. His eyes were prickling. He could hardly see. He knew he must have walked for many hours, but he had no memory of it.

The Center
.

He was being drawn towards the Center. That much he knew. His strength was almost gone. He knew that, too. But he could not stop, for if he stopped he would sleep. And if he slept, death would come. That he knew most of all.

He staggered on, reached the foot of another dune, took a step to begin climbing. Without warning his legs gave way underneath him and he fell. The sand cushioned him, soft as a feather bed. He rolled onto his back, but could move no farther.

Sleep
.

His eyes closed …

In Del, friends are laughing, splashing in the choked and overflowing gutters, picking up gold coins. He wants to go to them. But his mother and father are calling … And now he sees that the gutters are choked not with garbage but with buzzing red bees. The gutters are overflowing with Queen Bee Cider that is pouring from broken barrels lying in the street,
running to waste. The bees rise up in an angry cloud. His friends are being stung, and Grey Guards are watching, laughing … His friends are dying, calling to him, but he is so tired, so tired. His eyes keep closing as he staggers into the humming red cloud. His arms and legs are heavy, weighed down. Behind him his mother says, “Softly, softly, boy!” and he turns to her. But her face has turned into the face of Queen Bee. Bees cover her back and arms and swarm in her hair. She is frowning, screeching harshly at him, shaking her fist. “Smoke, not fire! Smoke, not fire …”

Lief’s eyes flew open. The screeching went on. Something was circling high above him, a blurry black shape against a dull yellow sky.

Ak-Baba! Run! Hide!

Then he blinked, and saw that the circling shape was Kree — Kree, soaring lower, calling to him. He tried to sit up and found that he had settled so deeply into the sand that he had to wrench himself free. Sand had already covered the whole lower half of his body, his hands, his arms, his neck …

He scrambled, panting and trembling, to his feet. How long had he been asleep? What would have happened if Kree had not woken him? Would he have slipped deeper and deeper into the sand until at last it covered him? Would he have woken even then?

The dream was still vivid in his mind. And suddenly he understood what it meant. The words of the verse rushed back to him. “Not ‘be now,’ but ‘below,’” he whispered. “Not ‘survive,’ but …”

“Lief!” Barda and Jasmine had appeared at the top of the next dune. Shouting, they began to slide down towards him. Lief felt tears spring into his eyes at the sight of them, and realized that he had thought they were dead. He began staggering forward to meet them.

Jasmine screamed, piercingly. She was pointing behind him.

He turned, and saw what had emerged from the dune at his back. It was another sand beast, even bigger than the first. Sand still poured from the joints of its legs. It had been stalking him, but as he met its mirrored eyes it froze. In moments, he knew, it would spring.

Backing away, holding its gaze, he felt for his sword, then, with horror, felt himself falling clumsily, entangled in the trailing ropes that had tripped him. The next moment he was struggling in the sand, his sword trapped beneath him. Wildly he scrambled to his knees, hearing Jasmine and Barda shouting, knowing it was too late, feeling as though he was caught in a nightmare. The monster lurched forward …

Then it jerked, with a grating cry, as a blister exploded on its body. It staggered, lunged again, then toppled sideways as another blister found its mark. Its spiny legs kicked, and it began to spin, digging great trenches in the sand.

One ankle still caught in the rope, Lief crawled away, sobbing and gasping with relief. Jasmine came
panting up to him, hauling him to his feet, freeing him from the rope. Barda was right behind her, a sling still in his hand and another blister at the ready.

Lief began to choke out his thanks, but Barda waved him away. “If I have saved your life, Lief, it is not the first time, nor will it be the last, I fear,” he growled. “It is my fate, it seems, to be your nursemaid.”

Shocked and deeply hurt, Lief took refuge in sullenness, and turned away.

Barda took him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Do not turn away from me!” he shouted. “What are you playing at? Why did you run away alone? Why did you not try to find us after the quake?”

He was shaking with anger. And slowly Lief realized that it was the anger born of shock, fear, and worry. It was the anger he had sometimes seen in his parents’ faces, when he came home long after curfew. When he took risks.

“Barda, I could not —” he began.

“There is no time for this now,” snapped Jasmine, her eyes on the monstrous creature thrashing in the dune. “Argue another time. We must get away from here, and quickly. The beast is not dead. It may yet recover and come after us again.”

“Do not worry,” said Lief quietly. “Where we are going, it will not follow.”

They walked for many hours, but spoke little. It was as if Lief was listening to something that neither Barda nor Jasmine could hear, and they themselves grew more and more silent the closer they came to the Center.

They saw it long before they reached it — a lone peak rising high from a flattened circle and ringed by rounded dunes. It shimmered against the yellow sky, alien and mysterious in the fading light. A mighty cone with darkness at its tip.

“A volcano,” hissed Barda.

Lief shook his head. “You will see,” he said.

Filli crept, whimpering, under the shelter of Jasmine’s collar. She whispered comfortingly to him, but her green eyes were dark with dread.

The droning noise grew louder as they approached their goal. By the time they had reached its base and slowly begun to labor upwards, the air was vibrating with sound.

And finally they had reached the top, and were looking down into the peak’s hollow core. A whirlpool of red sand roared far below, flying in the darkness as though driven by a mighty wind.

But there was no wind. And the sound was like the humming of bees in their countless millions.

The Belt burned around Lief’s waist.

“What is this?” Barda was breathing hard, staring down, his big, blunt hands gripping his sword.

Softly Lief repeated the rhyme carved on the stone. And this time, the last lines were complete.

“Death swarms within its rocky wall

Where all are one, one will rules all.

Below the dead, the living strive

With mindless will to serve the Hive.”

“The Hive …” Jasmine repeated slowly.

“The Sand is the Guardian,” said Lief.

Barda shook his head. “But — it cannot be,” he breathed. “The sand is not alive! We have walked upon it, seen creatures —”

“The creatures we have seen are crawling on a much larger host,” said Lief, his voice very low. “The dunes we have been treading are only a covering, made up of the long dead. The living work below. Serving the Hive. It is they who collect the treasures that fall. It is they who make the marks on the surface. They who cause the storms.”

“The gem —”

“The gem, dropped anywhere on the Sands, would at last be drawn to the Center,” Lief murmured. “That is why we are here.”

He tore his eyes away from the whirlpool within the core and turned to Jasmine. “We need smoke,” he said. “Smoke, not fire.”

Without a word she knelt and began pulling things from her pack. Her hands, Lief saw, were trembling.

His own hands were not very steady as he gave his sword to Barda and took the rope in exchange. But as he
knotted the rope around his chest, he was half-smiling, and his voice shook only a little.

“I fear you must be my nursemaid again, Barda,” he said. “Again I need your help and your strength — and your rope as well. But this time, I beg you, do not let me go.”