Read Online D & D - Red Sands by Paul B. Thompson, Tonya R. Carter - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul B. Thompson, Tonya R. Carter
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out. In the center of this depression stood a statue. It was a colossal piece of sculpture. The rectangular base reared four paces high, and more seemed buried in the earth. Seated on this sandstone pedestal was an enormous stone figure at least fifteen paces tall. The head bore a flaring headdress in red stone that draped over the broad, cracked shoulders. The torso was flat and masculine; a suggestion of strength still remained in the carved muscles. The legs and the hands resting on the knees were well-defined, but all the facial features had eroded away.
"What is it?" Marix asked. "Or rather, who?"
"It is The Faceless One," Jadira replied. "It has no other name."
The colossus's sightless visage stared at the eastern horizon. The ghostly voice boomed out from it again. Nabul and Marix clapped their hands over their ears. Uramettu and Tamakh winced at the powerful sound.
"Why does it moan so?" asked Uramettu.
Jadira shrugged. "No one knows. And we do not know who carved it, how such a thing was moved here, or why it was made."
Nabul flopped down on the crest of the dune. "How does it make that noise?" he whined. "Surely it will split my head!"
"There are many stories of why it sings. Each tribe has its own legend . . . some say he is a god who mourns his blindness. Some say he was a mortal still being punished for some ancient evil—but no one has any idea how it sings. The cry is most often heard just at sunrise, though some claim to have heard it at sunset. The Sudiin sage
Akhrim the Blind once heard it at noon."
"It makes me sad," said Uramettu. "Crying in the desert seems so lonely!"
The sun lifted clear of the horizon and its rays bathed the colossus in warm orange light. After a minute the sound came again, more muted than before. Marix felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He said, "A faceless thing of stone, and yet my heart is uneasy at its song."
In silence they watched the singing colossus for several long minutes. Finally Jadira broke the spell, saying, "Pity will not help it now. We should be off."
They skirted north of the colossus, and as they passed, four of the five glanced up at the towering figure.
Jadira did not. She kept her eyes on the western horizon, where the shadow of the colossus reached, seemingly to infinity. As the figure sang a final faint note, Jadira's face veiled briefly with pain. She had not told her own idea on why the colossus mourned. Akhrim the Blind had taught the Sudiin children that the statute was a likeness of the god Mitaali, father of all nomads.
It was only fitting, she thought, that the maker of the Sudiin should grieve when so many of his children were dead.
The sun rose higher, and a hot wind blew in from the south. The wind flung dust in their eyes and parched their throats even worse than before. They wrung the last drops from the waterskin before midday. Then the real fury of the Red Sands fell on them. The sun bore down, splitting their skins and pouring fire inside them. Though they had had only two sips of water in the morning, whole bucketsful ran off them as they trudged. A: noon approached, the very air was transmuted into fire and Jadira called a halt. No one had any appetite (save Nabul), but Jadira convinced them all to eat something Without food, they would go off their heads.
Marix opened the food bags. The bread had dried intc tight curls as tough as sandal straps. He lifted the lid of the yogurt jar and gagged. The curdled milk was thick with weevils.
Nabul cursed. "I should have known!" he said. "Marut always did keep a filthy shop. See if I steal anything from that son of a dog again!"
"Weevils or no, we may have to eat this," Jadira said firmly. "Though a large oasis, Julli is small in the vast-ness of the desert, and we could walk past it unknowing."
Marix dropped the lid on the pot and swallowed audibly. "I'll starve first," he said.
"Ym may, my squeamish friend," said Tamakh.
Uramettu took the pot and dipped two fingers
"What is it?" Marix asked. "Or rather, who?"
"It is The Faceless One," Jadira replied. "It has no other name."
The colossus's sightless visage stared at the eastern horizon. The ghostly voice boomed out from it again. Nabul and Marix clapped their hands over their ears. Uramettu and Tamakh winced at the powerful sound.
"Why does it moan so?" asked Uramettu.
Jadira shrugged. "No one knows. And we do not know who carved it, how such a thing was moved here, or why it was made."
Nabul flopped down on the crest of the dune. "How does it make that noise?" he whined. "Surely it will split my head!"
"There are many stories of why it sings. Each tribe has its own legend . . . some say he is a god who mourns his blindness. Some say he was a mortal still being punished for some ancient evil—but no one has any idea how it sings. The cry is most often heard just at sunrise, though some claim to have heard it at sunset. The Sudiin sage
Akhrim the Blind once heard it at noon."
"It makes me sad," said Uramettu. "Crying in the desert seems so lonely!"
The sun lifted clear of the horizon and its rays bathed the colossus in warm orange light. After a minute the sound came again, more muted than before. Marix felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He said, "A faceless thing of stone, and yet my heart is uneasy at its song."
In silence they watched the singing colossus for several long minutes. Finally Jadira broke the spell, saying, "Pity will not help it now. We should be off."
They skirted north of the colossus, and as they passed, four of the five glanced up at the towering figure.
Jadira did not. She kept her eyes on the western horizon, where the shadow of the colossus reached, seemingly to infinity. As the figure sang a final faint note, Jadira's face veiled briefly with pain. She had not told her own idea on why the colossus mourned. Akhrim the Blind had taught the Sudiin children that the statute was a likeness of the god Mitaali, father of all nomads.
It was only fitting, she thought, that the maker of the Sudiin should grieve when so many of his children were dead.
The sun rose higher, and a hot wind blew in from the south. The wind flung dust in their eyes and parched their throats even worse than before. They wrung the last drops from the waterskin before midday. Then the real fury of the Red Sands fell on them. The sun bore down, splitting their skins and pouring fire inside them. Though they had had only two sips of water in the morning, whole bucketsful ran off them as they trudged. A: noon approached, the very air was transmuted into fire and Jadira called a halt. No one had any appetite (save Nabul), but Jadira convinced them all to eat something Without food, they would go off their heads.
Marix opened the food bags. The bread had dried intc tight curls as tough as sandal straps. He lifted the lid of the yogurt jar and gagged. The curdled milk was thick with weevils.
Nabul cursed. "I should have known!" he said. "Marut always did keep a filthy shop. See if I steal anything from that son of a dog again!"
"Weevils or no, we may have to eat this," Jadira said firmly. "Though a large oasis, Julli is small in the vast-ness of the desert, and we could walk past it unknowing."
Marix dropped the lid on the pot and swallowed audibly. "I'll starve first," he said.
"Ym may, my squeamish friend," said Tamakh.
Uramettu took the pot and dipped two fingers
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