Smoke in the Sand: Part Two

Here's the next part of my story....I have no idea how many more there will be--at least one, but I'm not sure how many after that. Anyhow, enjoy!

*Oh, little warning, there are a couple cuss words in this part, but he kind of deserves to say them...the situation calls for it :)


Smoke in the Sand

Part Two: Trouble

The problems started when stopped at Erisan, the second largest city in the kingdom. We were en route to the capital, and Erisan was our last stop before we arrived. Matay'an, myself, and another seer, Kash'ira, were telling fortunes in the bazaar. Others were there, with music and dancing, but our wagon was off by itself.

Our clientele ranged from the poor beggars who'd scraped up just enough money for a readings, to the heavily veiled wives of powerful rajahs. It was one such woman who changed my fate. I did not know her name or station, only that she was arrogant, and wealthy beyond belief. She had a very high opinion of herself, and was greatly disappointed, I think, to find her fortune being read by a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy. I am sure she would have preferred Matay'an, the wise and venerable woman, but alas, she was landed with me, a boy she must have viewed as a novice at best, and an ill-gotten bungler at worst. But that was only the beginning of the trouble.

She wanted me to do the most complex reading for her--a five star pentacle. This means that I needed to use five sets of tashin cards, each laid out in the shape of a pentacle. Each pentacle formed the point off a greater star, with special runes forming the intersect points and pure sugar tracing the lines of power. She also demanded that I do an energy reading, a palm reading, and a crystal reading. For a veteran seer like Matay'an, to do so many complex and varied readings in such a short time would be tiring to say the least, but for me--suffice it to say, this was my first big bazaar, and the first time I was doing the readings without Matay'an's guidance. I did myself proud, though, and managed to successfully complete each reading. Unfortunately, the woman was highly displeased with the outcome. I can't imagine why, but although I worded it in the politest fashion possible, the fact that all the readings pointed to her being a selfish bitch whose beauty would fade and leave her alone and reliant on the charities of others--well, that must have upset her a bit.

She flew into a bitter rage. I still have the scar on my cheek from where her ring cut me. She tried to skip out without paying, but Matay'an makes a formidable figure when she's angered. I think simply the sight of her, eyes drawn together and magic boiling around her, scared the woman off. It didn't, however, scare her speechless. I still recall her words, telling me that I would pay for 'spreading such vile falsehoods about a woman of such importance.'

I didn't give her diatribe much thought, assuming that she was like the other nobles I'd come across--arrogant, but soon to forget a commoner. Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. Apparently she was a woman who nursed vengeance like a child, but feeding it hatred instead of mother's milk. Regardless, that night was the last I spent with the caravan. Had I known what was to happen, I probably would have lied just a bit with the readings, but I was young, and still believed that honesty was the best course of action. When they came for me, I was beginning to seriously consider lying as a profession--it got you into much less trouble.

They came shortly after midnight, two of them, both powerful mages. Matay'an and I, although we were strong, were only seers, not mages, and we stood no chance. They set up wards first, so no one could disturb them, then they came for me. I tried to fend them off, but my paltry conjuration skills were no match for their battle spells. In mere minutes, I was led off, bound in a thick shell of stifling magic. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, and I couldn't feel. I was scared shitless.

It seemed ages before they finally put me down and released me. I found myself in a dark and cramped cell, many feet underground. It was cold and unexpectedly damp. I didn't know where I was, or how far away I was from the caravan. All I knew was that I was much too far away from my golden deserts with their fiery heat and burning sands.

They left me in the cell for many days, giving me barely enough food to stay alive. Because of the darkness, i didn't know exactly how long I was in there, but after a long while, they came back. I was sleeping when they pounded on the door, bursting it open in a cloud of dust and cobwebs. I was jerked roughly to my feet and bound with iron manacles. Apparently they had decided I was not enough of a threat to encase in the magical shell. I kept my eyes open, watching the turns we took, trying to get my bearings. It didn't work. All I could figure out was that I was still underground and still very far from my beloved deserts.

After some time, the passageway opened into a large cavern. Well, I call it a cavern, but it was more akin to a massive throne room carved out of the earth. Ornate tapestries hung on the walls, covering nearly every square inch with depictions of various beings writhing in agony, or trapped in shock. Strange runes glowed golden around the borders of each piece, but I couldn't make out their meaning.

The guards shoved me forward, towards the center of the room where the mysterious woman sat in a throne-like chair. My mind was working overtime trying to piece it all together, and as the guards tossed me at her feet, the last bit clicked into place. I was in deep, smelly, diarrhea-ed, camel-crap.

This was no ordinary noble. No, with the throne, the robes, the black iron crown she wore, the sheer power she commanded--I had the grave privilege of pissing off the Rut'ya, the high-priestess of Rutar, the Jinshi god of the underworld (the hell part, if you catch my meaning). My heart just about stopped dead as she turned her onyx gaze on me. In that moment, I knew the true meaning of the word despair. The Rut'ya was evil, and took delight in it, in the torture of her enemies. I was doomed, I had been since the moment I first read her cards.

Panic gripped me, its icy fingers trailing down the back of my neck. I bolted, thinking I could make it to the tunnel, make it far enough away to hide from her, but I was too late. I had only a second's warning--a sharp cracking sound--before her writhing tendrils of magic pierced my body, lifting me into the air and casting me against the wall like a child's discarded plaything. I watched as if in a dream. My body cracked against the wall, loud crunches signifying broken bones and probably internal bleeding. I was as good as dead, but I felt no pain. Strange sensations bubbled through me, as if someone had filled my veins with champagne instead of blood. I tried to shake my head to clear it, but I couldn't move. My body slid down the wall, landing in a sickening heap, but I remained where I was, floating, hanging suspended in the air.

The Rut'ya cackled and sent another bolt of magic at me. It made contact with the incorporeal me, wrapping itself around me and sending me hurtling towards the tapestried wall. I never made contact with it. Instead, I practically melted into the tapestry, my very spirit melting with its woven threads. That is what the faces in the tapestry were--the faces of the enemies of the Rut'ya, unfortunate souls locked forever in a woven world. And I was now one of them.