Schneider let the dust slide between his fingers and down to the floor of the musty tomb. It had taken most of the day to find the place, after Malice had teleported them to it, most of the day to blast sand and earth and crumbled architecture away from it, for Kall-Su to painstakingly translate the writings on the walls and figure out just where this sorceress was supposed to be sealed away. And then after all that, they find that whoever had done the sealing had done a lousy job of it.
Dust. She was gone to dust and there was no power on earth that would bring back a millennia dead woman. Sorceress or not.
He picked up another handful of her mummified remains from the open top of the stone sarcophagus. Not even a scrape metal of clothing left. The tomb had been raided years ago by bandits. The seal had somehow been broken, by some natural catastrophe most likely. The land had the feel of some great upheaval. It didn't help their cause. It was just a waste of time.
With a snarl, he flung the dust away, causing Kall-Su to look up from the tablet he was scrutinizing, causing the little sand rat to cringe and huddle deeper into the shadowed corner he had found. The djinni was outside, having declared a dislike for tombs and the like.
"Tell me, you've found something useful. Anything?"
He stalked over to Kall, and the younger wizard looked up, face highlighted by the blue witchlight that hovered over his head. Slowly he shook his head.
"I think she died a natural death. I think she was mortal and nothing more than that. She was not what he was."
"Which is what? Anything about that?"
Again a slow, negative shake of the head. Kall lifted a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose, lids fluttering down for a moment in weariness. "No, not here. They made her a holy woman after she banished the demons -- so to speak, and they only mention the evil she courted in her youth. It speaks more of her accomplishments afterwards."
"Bah, I don't care about any of that. What good does it do us. What good coming here at all." He hissed a few more curses between his teeth, and stalked out of the tomb. Up the slanted walk, littered with crumbled debris from his none too gentle entrance and out into the dizzying heat of the desert.
And this place they had discovered the remains of a city built around a tomb was most certainly in the midst of a wasteland. Nothing as far as the eye could see and the senses could uncover in all directions. Nothing but bone dry earth and unforgiving weather. It plainly unpalatable, this land, and he found it trying to even his endurance. It had Kall-Su wilting in misery. Even in evening it was still unbearably hot. It was only marginally cooler inside the shadows of the tomb. A mastaba, Abu had called it. A flat topped tomb from the older dynasties, that had been hidden under hundreds of feet of sand, that Schneider had only found by the faint trace of the last remaining runes that graced the outer facade of the structure.
He slid down the against the rough, stone wall, digging his boots into the loose sand that piled in drifts against the sides of the thing and sat there, glaring at the brilliant colors of the sitting sun.
A movement from the ragged opening they had made, and Kall-Su came out, stood for a moment, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun, then he too slumped down against the wall, a few feet from Schneider.
"There's nothing. You're right, it was a waste of time. We might as well have gone ---" he broke off, looking away, half in anger, half in frustration.
"What? Looking for your minstrel?" Schneider finished for him.
Kall said nothing, he idly scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. Finally he said. "I would forgo retaliation, to find her."
Schneider snorted, annoyed. For the life of him he couldn't see anything in the common, disrespectful little former slave that could so enrapture a wizard of Kall-Su's stature. He supposed she was pretty -- more so when she performed, but not that pretty. Kall could find better. But he didn't say it. Kall had gotten rather unreasonably mad the last time he'd mentioned such a thing. He was too tired to spar at the moment.
He leaned his head against the stone and looked at the younger wizard. There were cobwebs in his hair, dulling some of the pale golden gleam. Malice had given him proper, desert robes again, but honestly Schneider thought he had looked better in the other. Quite surprisingly appealing. He'd hardly ever noticed before with Arshes or Yoko to distract him. Young men did not generally catch his eye, but pretty was pretty and Kall had looked and tasted sinfully good. It made one wonder -- about other things. It made one rather pleased with the looks -- or the non-looks -- cast at his back. Wary and embarrassed and quite quite baffled. Kall had no slightest notion what to make of the incident. Kall was quite confused by the whole thing.
Schneider liked causing confusion. If he had not been so tired, and so admittedly troubled by Ramlah and his minions, he might have put some effort into exploring the possibilities. As it was --- he didn't know what to do.
He just did not know what to do. And he hated that indecision. In this place, with only himself and Kall-Su who as clearly at a disadvantage both from the nature of the desert itself and his healing mental injuries, they were the weaker power. Nasty thing to admit. Repugnant notion that retreat might be the wisest course of action. God knew he wanted to engage the Back March and their enigmatic master, but even he had to admit that comment sense warned against it. Not if he wanted to come out in one piece. Not if he wanted to protect Kall-Su. If Arshes and Gara had been here, he might have been more optimistic of their chances. But they were a half a world away.
And he needed to repower. He needed very badly just to plunge himself into the deep slumber of rejuvenation, so that he even had a chance in hell of standing up against Ramlah alone, much less Ramlah backed by his dark minions. He wondered how much time they had?
"Kall, I'm going to sleep."
Kall-Su blinked up at him as he rose, dusting sand off his cloak, shaking out the mane of his hair.
"What?" Kall asked stupidly. "Here?"
"Here. Don't bother me." As if they could, when he entered the trance like sleep of healing that he needed. It took a second, Kall was tired and Kall's mind was still whirling with hieroglyphics and ancient histories, but understanding dawned, of what Schneider was doing and why. He nodded slowly, absently burying his hands in the sand.
"You should too, while we have the chance." His one bit of helpful advice. Kall nodded again, distracted by the sunset and the glittering bits of glass powder in the sand.
Schneider left him, walked into the cool depths of the tomb and cleared a place of sand and dust with a mental sweep of magic wind. He lowered himself down, flat on his back, and shut his eyes, clearing his mind of everything mortal. Of doubt, of worry, of lust, of love. All of it gone, swept away by a fierce will and iron control. In a matter of heartbeats he was gone so deep within himself that the roof could have come down upon him and not disturbed his repose.
Abu had skulked out of the tomb earlier, chased away by Schneider's mere presence. The little man perched atop the crumbling mastaba, staring mournfully into the purpling horizon. The Djinni lurked about somewhere, sulking and displeased with this desolate place. Kall would have gone back inside himself, to assure that nothing disturbed Schneider's rest, but the sand had become a comfortable, shifting seat, and the slant of the wall felt good against his back. His head hurt from too much reading of indistinct script and the whole of his body felt parched. His soul felt parched. How could anything have ever thrived and grown in such a land? He hated it. Hated it with all his heart and wanted nothing more than to find Lily and have her and Schneider and himself gone from this place, back to the fertile, temperate lands of the east. He was tired of roaming. He wanted the stability of a place he knew and a routine that was familiar to assuage the unease. He wanted back to Sta-Veron despite the reasons he had left. He wanted Lily there and Schneider and all the other things -- few as they were -- that offered comfort and safety.
He lay his head upon his arms, shutting out the multi-hued sunset, imagining the cool winds and the snow capped highlands of the northern mountains. Even in the depths of summer the heat was never oppressing. The air was always heavy with moisture. He wondered if Gara and Arshes Nei had been troubled by bandits. By the threat of bandit and nomad invasion from the Tundra. He should have stayed and dealt with it himself, it would have been the responsible thing to do -- even bereft of magic as he had been -- but responsibility had seemed a foreign thing for a while there. The walls of Sta-Veron had seemed stifling. The only thing that had offered contentment had been Lily's arms and even that had been taken away.
There was a shifting of sand beside him and a wafting scent of jasmine.
"He says you are after a girl?"
Almost as if she had sensed his melancholy over Lily, the djinni descended, very little of concern in her voice, nothing of honest curiosity. A great deal of not so subtle spite."
He shifted his head a little to cast her a withering look. He said nothing, not caring to honor her with an answer.
It mattered little to her. She settled down into the sand a few feet away, the gold trinkets on her person tinkling as she moved, creating a melody of their own in the still desert air.
"He says you crossed all the vast ocean to follow her?"
He said nothing to that either, letting his lids flicker down again to shut out the sight of her, if not the sound of her voice.
"She must be a beautiful girl, to inspire so much." Said the djinni who was supremely beautiful and well knew it.
"Beauty is not everything." He murmured. "Go away."
"She's ugly, then?"
He cast a glare at her from under gold tipped lashes, refusing to rise to her dangled bait. Despising her as much as this desert he was trapped in.
"He hates her, you know?" Malice purred, leaning towards him, midnight dark fall of hair dripping over her shoulders.
That surprised him. He half opened his mouth to deny such a thing, but he was not certain it was not true. Malice smiled, and her eyes glittered with a certain smug victory, a certain frustrated bewilderment.
"I think its because you love her more than you love him. He can't understand that."
"Go away." He said it on a trembly breath.
"Why? Because I state the obvious? He would not harm her, I think, because it would be like harming you. You are of great concern to him."
"Shut up. You know nothing." He thought about casting a spell. Summoning some destructive force to eat away at her bones and her flesh and his misery of her. But it probably would not succeed. She had already proved quite sturdy in that effect. And it might disturb Schneider's sleep and he'd not be accused of a petty squabble just to rid himself of the djinni. Especially when it would not work to begin with and he'd only gain her derision for his efforts. He thought about getting up and walking away, but that would be retreat and admission of defeat. He was not willing to admit that either. Not to her.
She laughed. "I see how he watches you. Especially after Meshed. Does the notion of you as faajir intrigue him?"
He hissed, rage and embarrassment flaring. Instinctively he whirled on her, flinging the handful of sand and backing it with a charge of pure explosive energy. It hit, a thousand tiny crackling shards of destruction, the crack of it echoing in the desolation. Malice shrieked and winked out of existence. Her action, not his. Her escape from his tantrum. If she came back, he'd do it again. But she didn't. One hoped she was licking her wounds in some other place, one hoped he had at least managed some small bit of damage. One hoped she stayed cacooned in the bottle Schneider still carried on his person forever. He doubted he would be that lucky.
Faajir. Complete indignity there. Complete embarrassment over that unlikely incident. Bad enough he'd had to do it -- he didn't wish to dwell on the other. On what had happened with Schneider, which had taken him completely off his guard. Which still did, after the fact.
A breath to clear his head and chase away the unease. To chase away the ire that Malice had stirred. The sun sank low and eventually dropped beyond the rolling dunes. He heard Abu stirring about in the small camp Malice had created for them, making do for his supper with what supplies were at hand, since the Djinni had still not made a appearance. Maybe that last spell had done her in. Kall-Su's lips turned up in a cold smile at the notion. He didn't particularly care if it upset Schneider. He was not used to letting such blatant impertinence go unpunished.
"My lord?" Abu crept up to him. "Some wine? We've some left in the canteens?"
He was parched, otherwise he'd have refused it, preferring to fast in solitude. The little man scurried off to retrieve it. The wind changed direction, blowing sand and dust with it, invisible swirls in the darkness. The air felt electric, filled with static energy that made the hair on the back of his arms stand on end. It was oppressive almost, the rapid change. He sank a little lower into his slouch as Abu brought the canteen.
"Is there a storm brewing?" he asked, not familiar with the nature of desert squalls. The little man paused, looking into the darkness, robes fluttering around his legs.
"Perhaps. They descend quickly, the desert tempests. If this turns into such, we should retreat within the mastaba."
Kall-Su took a sip of the wine, then lowered the canteen. It was bitter and strong, tepid from the heat. Not to his taste. It left a bad aftertaste and he glared into the night, as if the absence of daylight were at fault.
It felt wrong -- the essence of the disturbance rolling along the sands towards them. The pulse beat in his ears, a rapid, breathless tempo that had come upon him unawares. He dropped the canteen to the sand and rose, staring northeast uneasily. The power that issued from that way was more than a force of nature. They could not have come so fast. Could they?
"I don't think it's a storm." He said, more to himself that Abu. The little man squinted into the darkness nonetheless and asked breathlessly.
"The demons? Is it the demons, oh great lord?"
"Maybe."
"We should wake the Sahir bil-kamir." Abu said worriedly, wringing his hands. The wizard of the moon. A descriptive enough term for Schneider and his moonlit hair. Yes, he thought, he probably should, but he didn't know if he could shake the healing trance the other wizard had sunken into. Especially if it were for nothing. If this were nothing more than a storm and it was Kall's own disquietude with this place that made him sense otherwise. Go and see first, he thought. Go and see if it is truly the approach of a sand storm or something else entirely, before he attempted to wake Schneider.
"I'm going to go and look." He said.
Abu stared at him as if he were insane. "Go and look? But --- what if ---?"
He ignored the rest, silently reciting the incantation that would summon the air spirits to lift him skyward. Those elementals at least had no distaste for the arid desolation of the desert. They were in fact quite willful and strong, wanting to play in the winds stirred up by the oncoming force, which might in fact have pointed towards this unnerving energy he felt being nothing more than a freak desert storm. Air elementals were always mischievous in the midst of bad weather.
Over the desert which was a consistent, unchangeable pallet of rolling sand, gone to shadows in the night. The wind was harsh, whipping his hair and robes. In the distance he sensed the crux of the disturbance. A rolling wave of oncoming pressure. It was storm based. He felt the link with the elementals that kept him aloft, the basic, intrinsic analogous components that made up the very essence of a storm. Of any weather front. Only this was centralized and directed. A controlled force. He tried to send his senses past the outside turbulence and found ---- magic. Sheer, broiling magic, rolling in on the sands like a wave towards a beach.
He cursed and sent himself back towards the tomb as fast as he could. Hit ground without missing a beat and pelted into the tomb, hastily calling a witchlight to guide his way. He skidded to his knees in the dust next to the place Schneider had made for himself, gabbing the other wizard's shoulders and shaking urgently.
"Wake up! DS, wake up, now!"
Only Schneider wasn't responding. Schneider had plunged himself too deeply into the healing trance and Kall was not getting through. He cursed again, and spun, fingertips still in the dust, trying to think what to do. At full power, he wouldn't be up to this. At full power, he and Schneider both were not up to this.
How had they come so fast?
"Malice!" he cried out into the still air of the tomb. "Where are you? We need you now." He hated calling to her for aide, but she was the only creature that could whisk them out of here with the blink of an eye. But she did not respond. The only response he got was a frightened little whimper from Abu as the man slunk into the tomb after him.
"It is them, isn't it?"
Kall-Su took a breath. "Yes."
"Out -- outside -- the sand whips as if a great storm has already descended upon us."
"It has."
"What shall we do?"
Kall stood up, forcing calm, banishing panic. "Wake him if you can. I don't care how."
"And you? What will you do?"
"I will go and tell them that what they seek is not here."
He walked outside, letting the witchlight bleed away, buffeted by tremendous winds before he fully left the shelter of the mastaba. He formed a shield, at first a small one about himself, then let it expand to take in the exposed structure of the tomb itself. The sand within that dome of protection fell of a sudden, bereft of wind to keep it aloft. He added to it, layer after layer, building it so solid that almost one could see the shimmer of it. It would have kept out a mortal army, that shield. A year ago he could have created one twice as solid, six months ago he could not have made one at all.
He stood before the small opening to the tomb and faced the swirling darkness of the storm. And through the sand, a line of shadowy figures emerged. Dire silhouettes with their horned helms, upon their black war-horses. They stopped outside his shield, a half formed circle, peering inwards, like wolves, he thought. Silent and patient and deadly when they hunted in a pack.
One rider moved forward, swung down off his steed and took a step towards the mastaba. Ramlah, from the dragon helm.
"She is not here." Kall said softly, and knew he would be heard, even through the rush of the storm they brought with them outside his shields. "She's been dead a thousand years. You can not take vengeance on dust." If it was even vengeance they wanted. What they wanted at all was a mystery.
The dragon helm lifted and the eyes behind it momentarily fixed on him. Then beyond him to the crumbling structure of the tomb. The rider stepped forward, and into the influence of Kall's shield. The shield wavered, trying to repel invasion. Kall felt a back lash of something along his nerves that made his head reel. He ground his teeth and strengthened the barrier.
Ramlah paused. He raised one gloved hand and the riders shifted behind him. His eyes glowed pale red within the confines of his helm and the eyes of all the riders behind him flared in harmony. He stepped forward again and this time the shield melted before him.