"Like he did with that critter he kicked into the tree-tops?" the man-Ladan, that was his name-answered, with an uncertain grin directed back at her. "Yes, mistress, if that's what you want me to do. But I am a fighter; I am trained-"
"It's what I want you to do," she assured him. "If there is a monster, it may be nothing you are prepared or even able to fight against. By throwing the lantern at it, and getting out of its way, you may buy us time. That is the best thing you can do, and since you are trained, I am sure you can manage to hit it squarely with the lantern. I hope a face full of hot oil will make it stop long enough for me to conjure a rock wall between it and us."
Then she laughed. "And nothing at all may happen. After all, remember how the Pacha avoided the tunnel on their side. Probably the creatures here will do the same." Still, caution was best. Whatever a group was prepared for, never happened. Or so it was claimed.
Nothing leapt on them in the dark, nor was there anything lying in wait at the mouth of the tunnel. Xylina counted her blessings, and gathered her men into a defensive position around the tunnel entrance, while she and Ware surveyed the lay of the land.
Under a cloudless blue sky, the sun shown down upon them with a great deal less heat than she would have expected. An odd kind of mist rose in the distance: a mist, or a heat-haze. She could not really make out anything that was more than a couple of leagues away. There could have been mountains out there, or oceans, or nothing at all.
Directly before them was a large expanse of white sand, sloping slightly downward. To either side, this empty sand began at the foot of the Thorn-Wall, and continued for some five or six hundred cubits before the signs of life began. They stood on a rock shelf that extended into the sand from the tunnel entrance, like a kind of stage.
To Xylina, this empty stretch was all she could have asked for. Nothing could approach them without being seen. The only drawback was that they could be seen as well, by anything watching for prey. On the other side of this open stretch was a brownish-black area that was covered in sand with rocks heaving up out of it, and dotted with odd and twisted growths, all in a rainbow of colors.
"Does this look familiar?" she asked the demon. It would be a good thing if Ware only knew what to expect here.
Ware eyed the stretch dubiously. "No," he replied. "And do not be deceived by this apparent emptiness. Remember what I told you about illusions. There could be creatures creeping up on us at this very moment."
She glanced at the shimmering sand with alarm. That had never occurred to her-but an illusion of emptiness would be just as much an illusion as the vision of a monster.
"The trick is that they cannot eliminate all signs of their passing," Ware continued hastily, and the men looked about them and formed a defensive square, without needing to be told to do so. "We would hear them, or see their tracks on the sand. Or if they were buried beneath the sand, we would see the sand itself moving-"
"Like that?" One of the men exclaimed, and pointed off to the right.
Instantly they all followed his pointing finger. There, in the middle distance, the sand was pushed up in a growing ridge, approaching them with the speed of a trotting horse, as if there were some land of giant mole burrowing beneath it. A mole as large as one of the wagons, from the size of the mound being created.
Xylina felt her breath stopping in her throat, and the men swayed back an involuntary pace, closing their square.
It-whatever it was-was coming toward them, but not directly; unless it changed its course, it would pass about halfway between them and the place where the rocks and strange, multi-colored growths began.
"What is it?" Xylina whispered.
"I don't know," Ware replied, also in a whisper, "but it may be sensitive to vibrations. Don't move-and keep the animals from stamping their feet, if you can."
Somehow the animals seemed to realize the need for quiet; the entire expedition froze in place, and not even the mules lifted a hoof. The creature beneath the sand continued on its way, lifting the sand between them and the rest of the world, then passing on, and out of sight. The sand slowly subsided in its wake, until it lay flat again, as if it had never been disturbed.
Xylina breathed a sigh of relief, and the men relaxed. All but Faro, who peered off after the creature with a frown. He was the first to speak.
"We still have to cross that open stretch," Faro pointed out. "There maybe more of those things-whatever they are. Or that one might come back."
True enough. Xylina nodded, and closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. They had to cross it-but not necessarily on the sand.
She opened her eyes again, and examined the stretch of empty sand between them and the rocks. It would be folly to cross on the sand-but there was no reason to. Not while her powers were strong.
She had seen no weakening of them, despite the distance from Mazonia. Ware said that all magics worked equally well here. Well, now was the time to test that. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, gathered her powers about her-and raised her hands to conjure.
The mists of her powers gathered out over the sand, taking shape, solidifying in place. Gray mist, which formed into gray stone, heavy and substantial. First, she created pillars of stone in pairs, rising up from the sand, pillars that were much wider at the bottom than at the flat tops. Once she had those in place, she conjured a single slab of material, curving up over the sand, supported by the pillars, running from just below their feet to the other side of the sandy expanse.
The men murmured to one another as the mist rolled up and over the tops of the pillars, leaving the bridge in its wake. She made the surface rough, so that the feet of men and beasts would not slip on it. For safety's sake, she made the material, which was neither wood nor metal nor stone, but an amalgam of all three that only conjuration could produce, strong enough to bear the weight of all of them at once.
Then she looked at them all, and nodded once. She needed to give them no other orders. Faro pointed to the men nearest the end of the bridge, and waved at the other side.
Two of the men ran lightly up and over the conjured bridge, and took their places at the other end, bows out, and arrows nocked and ready. They might have rehearsed this a thousand times, so quickly did they obey Faro's silent commands.
"Wagons next," said Faro. The men parted, giving the wagons enough room to pass between them, and the drivers snapped their reins over the mules' backs, rolling out onto the surface of Xylina's creation. The mules obeyed- but slowly. They did not entirely trust this bridge, and went forward only after they had tried each foothold carefully.
Xylina kept watch to the right for any more telltale burrows in the sand; Ware watched to the left. Faro urged the men on in hoarse whispers, as if he feared that the sand-creature might hear a shout. She held her breath, for she was not as confident of her conjuration as she tried to appear. Her creation might not stand if one of these unknown creatures burrowed beneath a support, or even struck one.
The sun beat down upon them without mercy; there was no shade, here on this side of the Thorn-Wall. The air was so dry she had not noticed the heat at first-now it was obvious that they would not have been able to stay here for very long without serious damage from the heat. Already Xylina felt sweat trickling down her back, and beading up on her upper lip; she licked her lips and tasted salt-crystals. In just that short a period of time, the sweat had evaporated, leaving behind the salt. They would need real water, and lots of it, if the rest of this strange region was as dry and hot as this part.
She glanced back from time to time, keeping track of the expedition’s progress. The first wagon made it across her bridge without incident; as it reached the end, the second was in the middle of the bridge, and the third just beginning the journey. She couldn't help wondering about the noise of their progress. Every hoofbeat echoed hollowly upon the material of the bridge, and how far would the sound travel? Could a creature that lived under the earth hear things above it? Would the vibration travel down the stone and into the sand?