The camel Farr rode halted as well. “So it is true, then.”
Travis pulled on the reins, managing to bring his camel to a stop beside Grace’s. He followed her gaze toward the sky. The moon had set, and the stars were brilliant against the heavens–
–except for a jagged gash in the south where there were no stars. Only darkness, grinning like a black mouth.
“It’s another rift,” Grace said, her voice quavering.
So the rift wasn’t a single tear in the fabric of the heavens. Instead, that fabric was full of holes. How long did they have before it unraveled completely?
Before Travis could speak his thoughts, the night coalesced into a lithe shape: Vani.
“We must seek shelter,” she said. “A blood tempest comes.”
28.
A keening rose on the air as they guided their camels after the shadowy shapes of the T’gol. Dust whirled on the air, and Travis fastened a cloth tight over his nose and mouth. Farr did the same.
One of the T’golglided down the slope of a dune. It was hard to see in the murk, but Travis recognized the short, compact shape of Rafid.
“The blood tempest comes quickly!” Rafid shouted above the growl of the wind. “We will not be able to outrun it. It is almost as if it is drawn to us.” He cast a dark glance at Farr.
Farr ignored the look. “We have to find shelter now.”
Only there was none. The surrounding dunes were low with wide, wind‑scoured flats between them. Already the air was thick with blowing sand. The stars winked out in the sky.
Kylees stepped out of a swirl of sand. “Quickly, this way– there is a high dune ahead. It may offer some shelter. We must take the A’narai. Leave behind the weak if we must.”
Vani moved past her. “We leave no one.”
Kylees glared at Vani, then turned away.
The wind had risen to a howl, and sand buffeted them from all sides. The T’golused cloths to cover the faces of the camels, then each assassin took the reins of one of the beasts, leading them on. Travis huddled close to his camel’s neck, holding on with all his strength. He could not see three feet ahead of him; if the wind knocked him down, he would be lost.
They had not gone far when the voices began.
Lie down, hissed the wind. Let the sand cover you. . . .
Before he realized what was happening, Travis was slipping out of the saddle; his fingers had let go of the camel’s neck. He groped but could not regain his grip.
Strong hands caught him, pushing him back.
“Do not listen to the voices!”
His eyes stung and watered; he could not make her out, but he knew her touch. Vani. He thought he saw a shadow circle around to the front of the camel, then the beast began moving again.
Travis wrapped his arms around the camel’s neck and shut his eyes. The voices continued to hiss in his ears; he clenched his teeth, trying to shut them out. However, that only seemed to make the storm angrier. The wind clawed at him from all sides, shrieking in his ears.
Let go! Lie down! Your blood will join ours!
He was so weary; his arms ached to let go. The wind scoured at his being, wearing it away like a stone. It was no use. He could not resist. . . .
Just as Travis let go of the camel’s neck, the force of the wind lessened, and the shrill voices receded, growing fainter. He tumbled to the ground, then sat up and coughed sand out of his lungs. In the faint light he saw Vani crouching before him.
“Are you–?”
He gripped her hand. “The voices are more distant now.” She nodded, then vanished. A moment later Grace appeared out of a swirl of sand, collapsing next to Travis, followed by Master Larad. Farr stumbled into view and crouched beside them. His face was a mask of dust, and his eyes were hazed with pain. So even Farr had not been able to resist the power of the voices with ease. For some reason Travis felt a grim note of satisfaction.
They were out of the worst of the wind now. In the gloom Travis made out steep slopes rising around them on three sides.
“Where are we?” he called over the wind.
“I don’t know,” Farr shouted. “I have never seen a dune shaped like this. But the high slopes are protecting us.”
“We are still in danger,” Vani said, reappearing from a cloud of sand, along with the other T’gol. “We are in the center of the blood tempest now. If the winds shift and blow from the north, we will die. And even if the winds do not shift, we may not yet survive. Cover yourselves!”
They huddled beneath blankets at the base of one of the slopes as the storm raged around them. Time no longer had meaning. There was only the keening of the wind, and the hiss of sand, and the murmur of voices. Travis curled up next to Grace beneath the blanket as a weight slowly pressed down on him. . . .
The quiet was so sudden and complete it was deafening, making Travis’s ears ring. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move. It was as if strong arms held him, pinning his body in place. His lungs could barely expand to draw in a scant breath. Next to him, Grace made a small sound of pain. He tried to reach for her but could not.
“They’re here!” called out a voice, though it was muffled, distant.
There was a scrabbling sound, then all at once the crushing weight vanished. With a rasp of sand the blanket that had covered him and Grace was torn aside.
Air rushed into Travis’s lungs. He blinked against the white light, then made out two dark silhouettes above him: Larad and Farr. Larad took Travis’s hand, pulling him out of the drift of sand, while Farr helped Grace to stand. She was coughing violently, but she waved her hand, indicating she was all right.
“We could see no trace of you,” Larad said. “It was as if the sand had swallowed you. But Kylees told us to dig here, that we would find you. I don’t know how she knew.”
Travis looked back. Part of the dune had collapsed, covering the place where he and Grace had huddled beneath the blanket with a mound of sand. Above, a row of tall, slender shapes jutted out of the top of the dune, exposed by the winds of the storm. At first Travis wondered if they were trees. Then he realized what they were: stone columns, their tops broken off so that they looked like a row of teeth.
“What is this place?” he croaked.
Farr gazed around them, his dark eyes narrowing. “Somewhere we should not be.”
It was not a natural dune that had sheltered them from the storm. Sand had covered it, but the tempest had scoured much of that sand away, revealing the columns and walls of pitted, buff‑colored stone. In one place the remains of a broad stairway plunged down into the sand.
Grace turned around. “It looks like a temple.”
“Or perhaps a palace,” Farr said, shaking sand from his black robe. “This might be the ruins of Golbrora, or perhaps one of the royal villas near Xalas. It is difficult to say. Those cities have been lost for eons, and their precise locations can only be guessed at.”
Travis moved toward a rectangular block of stone that was half‑exposed by the sand. The stone was large, its narrowest edge as wide as the span of his arms, and there were carvings on it, though they were too worn to be made out. Perhaps if he brushed away some of the remaining dust . . .
Fingers closed around his wrist, halting him.
“Do not touch anything,” Farr said, his eyes locked on Travis. “We are deep in the Morgolthi now. There’s no telling what ancient magics yet remain.”
Travis pulled his hand back. “Isn’t that why you’re a dervish now? To look for things like this? For ancient magics?”