“That’s a part of it as well, but magic is invisible and it’s a weapon that we wield like a sword. Hence, an invisible sword. We call people who can use the magic wielders. When the organization first formed, only wielders were members of the Invisible Sword. However, in the five hundred thousand sun jumps since, there have been fewer and fewer people born with the potential to wield magic.” Jayden swept out a hand. “Sand responds to our magic like people do. We push our will at someone and suggest a person falls asleep. You start with one person but eventually you can work up to putting many people to sleep.” Jayden turned around, gazing at their three sets of boot prints that trailed back to the temple. “I’m going to concentrate on a patch of sand and suggest it cover one of the prints.”
Shyla stared at their tracks. The movement was subtle, as if a slight breeze blew over just that narrow patch. The boot print slowly filled in and disappeared, leaving behind smooth, untouched sand. Impressive.
“Why does the sand respond?” she asked. “It’s not alive. It doesn’t have a consciousness like a person.”
Jayden bent over, scooped up a handful, and held it close to her. Piled in his palm, the mound of individual grains reflected various hues of pink, red, orange, tan, and purple.
“Our ancestors are part of this sand,” Jayden said. “As it slowly and inexorably buried their cities and forests, as it filled their lakes and oceans, the sand consumed them as well. Over many circuits the sand is blown away, exposing the skeletons to the abrasive wind. Over time, the bones are reduced to the size of sand grains. This sand remembers who it used to be.”
Not sure she believed that was the real reason, Shyla had to admit the sand followed orders. “What command did you use to move it?” she asked him.
“Cover.”
“I use smooth,” Ximen said. He swept his hand out with his palm facing down. Two boot prints faded away.
“It doesn’t really matter what word you use. It’s your intention behind the command,” Jayden said. “Now you try it.”
Shyla considered. When she stepped in the sand, the grains compressed under her boots and were pushed out to the sides. She focused on one of her prints, gathered her will and thought, Return.
The print started to lose its sharp edges, then it stopped.
“You need more force,” Jayden said. “Try again.”
It took her multiple tries to erase one print. Each time the print softened, but she couldn’t get it to disappear with one command like Jayden had. It took her three or four times.
“Try harder,” Jayden snapped, losing patience.
She added her annoyance at him to her magical suggestion. Return! Six prints vanished at once.
“Look at that,” Ximen said. “You should have made her mad sooner, Jay.”
Jayden gave him a sour look.
Ximen ignored him. “It’ll get easier with practice and eventually, as you walk through the sand, you’ll be able to erase your tracks as you go almost without thinking about it.” He demonstrated by striding away. As each of his feet lifted, the sand flowed right back to erase his print. Turning, he grinned at her. “Creepy, isn’t it? Another reason we’re called the Invisible Sword.”
Shyla crouched in a shadow, watching for ambushers. This mission was dangerous but necessary. Jayden and Mojag waited nearby. The tunnels leading to the Invisible Sword’s last hideout were narrow and dark. No druk light shone from them. The fact that Tamburah’s temple connected to Zirdai and no one except the Invisible Sword had known about it for five hundred thousand sun jumps still amazed her. She wondered what other discoveries lurked within the labyrinthine depths of Zirdai. The city had ninety-nine underground levels, if she included the level with the prison and the special torture rooms, and the very bottom level where the black river flowed.
“I don’t see anyone,” Jayden whispered.
Neither did she. And that wasn’t comforting. It could mean the watchers were well hidden. It was angle two-twenty. Not many people were out and about at this time, but there were enough that the three of them didn’t draw unwanted attention.
“Mojag, do you remember the route?” she asked.
He huffed. “Of course. I’ve done this lots of times.”
“No you haven’t,” Jayden said. “You’ve only been there once and that was right before we were attacked.”
“That you know of.” Mojag smirked at him.
“Did Gurice take—”
“Nah. Followed you.”
“How—”
“You can discuss this later,” Shyla said.
Mojag opened his druk. Orange-tinted light spilled out, indicating they were somewhere between levels thirteen and twenty-four. Druk light changed color with depth—a vital tool for those who were easily lost.
Mojag headed into the tunnel. He was dressed in a green tunic and flared striped pants woven from gamelu fibers. The clothes were shabby but clean and warm. Jayden and Shyla also wore similar clothing except she had her wrap to cover her hair. Most of Zirdai remained at a constant ten degrees Celsius. Only the upper five levels fluctuated, going from zero during darkness to sixty degrees during the kill zone. Shyla had lived on level three. She enjoyed access to sunlight via a mirrored pipe to the surface, but she had to descend to level six every sun jump to survive the heat.
They were currently on level twenty-two. The people who lived here had enough coins to pay their taxes and tithe, but not much extra. Mojag fit in without calling attention to himself. Tall for thirteen circuits old, he was all gangly arms and legs.
Shyla clasped her hands together when he disappeared. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. A surprise, since at one point she would have happily killed the little sand rat.
If Mojag ran into an ambush, he’d claim he was lost. Neither the deacons nor the guards should recognize him. While his older sister, Gurice, had been an Invisible Sword for circuits, Mojag hadn’t been old enough to be invited and tested for magic. No longer. Desperate times called for desperate measures and they needed him. Once things settled down, he would be tested.
Waiting for the boy to return was almost torture. Shyla stood up half a dozen times with the intention of running to Mojag’s rescue, but, each time, Jayden tugged her back down.
“Relax. He’s been a vagrant since birth, he knows what he’s doing,” Jayden whispered.
It wasn’t Mojag’s skills she was worried about. The Invisible Swords had been murdered by the Arch Deacons without mercy. And those same deacons might be lying in wait. They might not even bother to question Mojag before killing him. Shyla turned to voice her concerns but stopped. Tension rolled off Jayden’s shoulders. He and Mojag were like brothers. Jayden already understood the risks. No need for her to remind him. Instead she concentrated on keeping still.
When Mojag returned, Shyla relaxed.
“Well?” Jayden asked.
“There’s two Arch Deacons watching the entrance into twenty-two, but I slipped around and checked the hidden one on twenty-four and there’s nobody there,” Mojag said.
“Did they see you?”
“Nah. Smelled them before I even got close. I covered the druk and crept up on them. Not that they would have heard me over their conversation. They’re bored out of their skulls.”