The ghosthound glanced up from his grooming. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, the answer is yes, back the way we came.”
“Good.” She walked over and began pulling herself onto his back. “Let’s be quick about it, then. We’ve wasted too much time already.” She settled herself on his neck and patted the fur behind her. “Climb up, Your Majesty, time is wasting.”
The king looked at the hound in horror. “Climb?”
The word was barely out of his mouth before the ghosthound lurched into action. Gin moved like lightning, plucking the king off the ground with a long claw and tossing him in the air. He landed in a heap on the hound’s back, and Miranda righted him just in time as Gin set off through the woods at a full run. The king clung to the shifting fur, yelping in terror as the trees flew by, too busy trying not to fall off to ask where they were going. That suited Miranda just fine. As hard as this was for her, it was going to be ten times worse for him. Better to explain it when they arrived and he couldn’t get out of it. She grimaced and gripped Gin’s fur tightly. No matter how she sliced it, this was going to be some bitter bread to swallow indeed.
The sun had dropped to the horizon by the time the rock spit Eli, Josef, and Nico in a tumble on the dusty ground. Nico landed gracefully. Eli landed on top of Josef.
“I don’t believe it,” Josef grunted, shoving Eli off. “
“It worked, didn’t it?” Eli snapped back. “Besides, do you have any idea how hard it was to convince that boulder to hide Nico in the first place?
“Maybe if it wasn’t such a stupid idea to begin with, you wouldn’t have had so much trouble pulling it-
Nico took his hand before he could mangle it further and deftly pulled a long, glass splinter out of his palm.
“Where did that come from?” He glared at the glass, then at Nico. Nico just shrugged and nodded over his shoulder. Josef turned, and his eyes went wide. The forest, the piebald grass of the clearing, the injured soldiers, the broken weapons, the arrows-they were all gone. The three of them were at the center of a smooth, black dust bowl that bore no resemblance at all to the clearing they had left just a few hours earlier. The dust lay in undulating patterns, ground so fine that the slightest breeze stirred up a miniature tornado. Other than their rock, nothing else remained, not even the natural slope of the ground.
A hundred feet back from its original position, the forest started again, but the new tree line was unnaturally straight. Some trees were missing limbs; others had entire sections of their trunks ripped away. The damage was surgically clean, as if some giant had taken a razor and simply cut away a circle of the forest using their rock as a center mark.
“I take it back,” Josef muttered. “The rock was a great idea. How did you know it would be the only survivor?”
“I didn’t,” Eli said, leaning in to examine the stone’s face.
The boulder itself looked worse for wear. Long, sharp-edged gashes pitted the stone’s surface. When Eli brushed his hand over them, a shower of glass dislodged and toppled to the ground, raising a sparkling cloud that sent them all into painful coughing fits.
When he could speak again, Josef asked, “What was that thing, anyway?”
“A sandstorm spirit,” Eli wheezed.
“I’ve never seen a sandstorm that could do this.”
“Normally, it couldn’t,” Eli said, covering his mouth with his hand. “But this one wasn’t in its right mind. Did you see that Ronald guy drop the sphere?”
“Renaud,” Nico corrected, casually pulling glass splinters out of her coat.
“Whatever,” Eli said. “That ball wasn’t a gem or anything you normally store a spirit in. It
Nico held up one of the dark glass shards.
“Exactly,” Eli said and nodded. “Compressing it into a size he could carry around completely altered the spirit’s form. Considering the color, he’s probably had it like that for a very long time.” He frowned, and his next words were uncharacteristically gentle. “It must have been very painful for the storm.”
“Well, if it hurt so much, why didn’t the spirit just escape?” Josef said, leaning over to knock the glass dust out of his hair. “I’ve never been clear on all this wizard talk, but a sandstorm’s a lot bigger than he is. Couldn’t it have just up and run?”
“It’s not that simple,” Eli said. “A sandstorm isn’t a whole spirit to start with, not like other spirits. A rock, for example, has been a rock for a long time. It may have been part of a mountain in the past, but it’s always been stone. The rock’s spirit has a strong sense of identity. It’s fully developed. Sandstorms are different. They’re born when air spirits and sand spirits rub each other the wrong way, kind of like a spirit brawl. As the sand is thrown up into the air, both spirits merge into one violent storm. Eventually, they blow their anger out and the sand falls back down, separating the spirits again, but while they’re fighting, the sand and air spirits together are a sandstorm spirit. Believe me, neither side is very happy about it. Storms like that are impossible to talk to.
“Unfortunately,” Eli continued, “storms like that are also very stupid. Both spirits are battling for control of the storm, so there’s a lot of raw spirit power, but no control. That’s probably why Renaud was able to dominate it so completely. It didn’t have the presence of mind to resist.”
“So where is the storm now?” Josef said. “Did he roll it back into a ball and take it with him?”
“No,” Eli said, shaking his head. “If there’s anything left, we’re standing on it.” He nudged the sand gently with his foot, stirring up a small cloud of glitter. “Once a spirit degrades that far, it’s only good for one last blow. Renaud knew that, so he used the last of its self-control as a leash to sic it on us, and then left it to blow itself out, taking all the evidence of his double cross with it.” Eli ran his finger delicately over one of the long scars on the rock face. “It would have worked too, if not for my brilliant plan.”
“Very brilliant,” Josef said stiffly, pressing his injured chest. “Where’s Renaud now, then?”
“Back at the palace, I’d say.” Eli nodded toward the spires that poked above the treetops, dark and flat against the evening sky. “Princes who have just overthrown their brothers probably have better things to do than wait around for the likes of us. Maybe we should-”
He stopped as a strong wind blew across the clearing, swirling the loose glass dust into a biting whirlwind. Eli, Josef, and Nico huddled in the lee of the stone, trying not to breathe.
“Well, I think that does it,” Eli wheezed when the wind finally died down. “Cowering in a glass dust bath with no gold, no king, and no easy way to get either. This is, officially, our worst job ever.”
“It was your idea,” Josef said. He dug out one of his spare bandages and tied it over his mouth. “Here,” he said and handed one to Nico and another to Eli. “Let’s go.”
They secured the cloth over their faces and began their trek out of the dustbowl. It took much longer than it should have, for the dust was knee deep in places and so fine it got under their improvised masks within minutes, caking anywhere there was moisture. The bloody front of Josef’s shirt was black with it, and even Nico grimaced when it got in her nose. The dusty circle was deathly silent. In the forest ahead, crickets chirped and evening birds called out, but inside the clearing the only sound was the shuffle of their feet sliding through the dust and the wheezing of their own labored breathing.
“Faster,” Eli mumbled, trying to speak without opening his mouth. They picked up the pace, and by the time they reached the forest’s edge, they were almost running.
As soon as they reached the trees, they tore off their masks and collapsed panting on the ground.
“There should be a stream or something around here,” Eli said, spitting the dust out of his mouth. “If I don’t get this mess off me soon, I’ll be Eli jerky.”
A leather canteen flew through the darkness and landed with a wet slap as his feet. Eli jumped back with a sound that was half obscenity, half squeal. Josef whirled in the direction the canteen had come from, blades out. In the last dim light, a pair of amused orange eyes flashed down from the shadows.
