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Shifting Sands and the Snowager: Part Two


by wicked_summer

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The cave was a little way up the mountain and sheltered from the wind by several twists and turns. Phizith heated up his feathers and looked towards Range. “Well?”

     “The thing is this... we need a guide. As you can see, none of us are accustomed to this area; we come from the desert.”

     “If I were to be your guide - and I’m not saying I will be; there are people that know the mountains better than I – then I’d want to know why you were here.”

     “We’re part of a group called the Shifting Sands – you would classify us as thieves, as I’ve already said. Business is pretty good in the Lost Desert – too good, in fact, for one group. There are an awful lot of thieves. We probably would have killed each other by now if it hadn’t been for a set of unwritten rules, strictly maintained. Well, someone broke those rules. A group called... well... Sunny Shadow.”

     Phizith chuckled and Rune rolled on the floor giggling. “Sunny Shadow. How... original.”

     “It was embarrassing,” Range admitted. “See, we had obtained something... the only way to get into a tomb, call it key if you like. And they stole it, along with everything else, when they robbed one of our stores.”

     Phizith whistled. “Nasty.”

     “Nasty and very, very stupid. This is me they’re up against, after all.” The Zafara smiled. “They should have known better, and they’re going to pay for it. After that they fled, and we tracked them to Terror Mountain. So here we are.”

     “If I were to be your guide, what would I get?”

     “Come now, no need for money among friends!” Range protested. “Or not. But you can pick some things from our stuff once we find them. Well?”

     Phizith considered. “Alright.”

     Range slapped him on the back then pulled away his singed paw, wincing. “Do you have to have your feathers heated up all the time?”

     “Of course not,” Phizith said pleasantly, lowering his feathers to the outside temperature.

     The Mynci, Dez, rubbed his hands together and jumped up and down for warmth.

     Range smiled. “It seems we need you for another reason as well. A guide that doubles as a fire! How efficient!”

     “It won’t be all that useful out there, though, particularly in that blizzard.”

     Range looked around. There was a faint roaring sound from outside.

     Kiran sighed, tossing her long hair back. “That’s bad. Who knows how far they’ll be by the time this lets up?”

     “Maybe the cold is affecting your brain. If we can’t go out in this, they can’t either.”

     “Perhaps the storm dies down higher up.”

     “Listen to me, I’m the guide!”

     “Look, that was Range’s idea, not mine.”

     Perk interrupted. “Range is a good person. Great tennis player.”

     “Yes, I’m... sure he is. Do you even have tennis in the Lost Desert?”

     Dez snorted. “Just ignore Perk, he’s a puntec fruit short of winning a paint brush at the Fruit Machine.”

     “That is one of the weirdest metaphors I’ve ever heard, including my matchbox/ash one.”

     “Eh?”

     “...Never mind.”

     “Is that blizzard done yet? The bird is beginning to annoy me.”

     “You’d think that with four ears, you’d be able to hear things for yourself. Perhaps those bottom ones are painted on.”

     “Hey!”

     “Well, they certainly look like it.”

     Time passed. Outside the wind roared; inside, it was cozy of sorts, Phizith’s feathers painting shadows on the walls.

     Phizith pressed himself even closer to the cliff wall, shouting over his shoulder.

     “Do you think they came here?”

     Range shrugged. “It’s hard to say. There aren’t footprints or physical signs, and there’s no one to ask up here.”

     Dez carefully placed the small heated feather Phizith had given him behind one ear for safety and glanced up nervously.

     It was a nervous-glance-worthy sight; a steep cliff, shining with smooth, un-climbable ice; the only path a straggly track made by petpets, in some parts crumbled almost away.

     “I don’t know how they could make it this far.”

     “Greed is a powerful motivator, but it has its limits,” Kiran agreed, pulling her woolen cap further down over her antennae.

     “Fear is stronger,” Range said.

     “They’re that afraid of you?”

     “Yes, they’re that afraid of me – I mean us, of course.”

     The Shifting Sands members grinned at each other behind Range’s back.

     “A little conceited, isn’t he?” Phizith said, well aware that the conversation was straying off topic.

     “You wouldn’t say that if you knew him properly. Range is just about the humblest person I know,” Kiran said.

     “Meepits don’t like banana cream pie,” said Perk.

     Phizith stepped on to the ledge, working his way slowly and carefully. This was a hard climb, made harder by the people trailing behind him. So slow! Didn’t they know what climbing was like? You had to go at it fast: assess situations certainly, but seize the moment.

     “What do you expect? We’ve never climbed anything higher than dunes before,” Kiran said.

     Phizith groaned. “Did I say that out loud?”

     “No, but I could tell by your face.”

     Dez slipped over and almost fell, grabbing on to Range for balance. The Zafara steadied him and Dez regained his balance, dislodging a pebble from the path.

     It fell, bouncing off the rock until it was pulverized into many much smaller pebbles, which in turn were destroyed until there was no trace that the pebble had existed. Dez gulped.

     “Hey, don’t worry, you’ll be fine as long as you’re with me,” Phizith said, showing more confidence than he felt. Him and the mountain one-on-one he was superPteri; but this was harder.

     View it as a challenge, Phizith told himself. You love a challenge.

     Kiran twitched her short ears. “Did you hear something?”

     Range frowned. “Like a rumble...”

     Phizith pressed his small ear-hole against the cliff face as he had learnt in Neoscouts. The vibration was unmistakable.

     “Rock fall!” Phizith yelled. The first pebbles were already skidding down the cliff.

     Dez was the first to react; grabbing Kiran with one hand and Perk with the other, he ran back along the narrow path, heedless of the track’s peril. Phizith turned to run after him, but turned back; Range was still there, staring upwards.

     Phizith glanced up and glimpsed a figure before it disappeared. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry!”

     Larger rocks were beginning to fall, dislodging more as the came.

     “Have you got a death wish or something? Hurry!”

     The Zafara remained entranced, staring upwards, brow furrowed.

     Phizith grabbed his arm and turned, but by now he was practically wading through the loose pebbles. It was becoming difficult to move fast enough to avoid the falling boulders.

      Phizith cursed. “Holy asparagus, that stupid Zafara!” He flapped his wings, wishing he had flown more recently. Grabbing Range’s arm with his claws instead, Phizith turned and ran down the cliff.

     Looking back, Phizith couldn’t tell whether he was running, flying, or a mixture of the two. All he knew was that at some point in the mad dash down the steep cliff, Range shook off his claws and began running in earnest.

     Huge rocks were falling besides them, barely missing them; the ice was smooth and treacherous. They hurtled down, thrown into the path of deadly missiles that could break the pair’s frail flesh-and-bone bodies beneath without pause.

      Phizith, flying alongside the tall Zafara and dodging airborne boulders, thought, with his daredevil’s grin, Mountain climbing is nothing on this.

          

     Phizith tentatively extended a talon onto the frozen snow, tapping it. “Okay, I think it’s safe. Our mysterious assailant did us a favor; we can climb all the way to the top as easy as pie.”

     “Our mysterious assailant?”

     “Another way of saying ‘the unknown person who tried to kill us’,” Phizith said unhelpfully.

     “No, I mean –”

     “That rock fall – or was it an avalanche?” Range pondered.

     “I say avalanche, definitely.” Phizith glanced around. Rune, who had been hiding in his backpack, stuck his head out and chirped.

     “Alright. That avalanche was no natural occurrence; someone wanted us dead, and I think I can guess who.”

     “Sunny Shadow,” Kiran said disdainfully.

     “I underestimated them, or perhaps overestimated. They’re even stupider than I thought.” Range tested the ice himself with his baton thing. “Let’s go.”

     They climbed the easy slope, well, easily, and half an hour saw them standing on the very spot where their attacker had been. Phizith looked around and spotted a familiar-looking boulder.

     “Range, I’ve been here before.”

     Perk blinked. “It was you who –”

     “Please spare us the stupidity. This is the place where I found the Snowager.”

     “Funny, I can’t see him anywhere,” Dez said. Phizith shot him a glare.

     “I am working with idiots. You better pay me well. I found the tunnel just about–” Phizith cast around. “–Here.”

     “Would the Snowager let people camp in there?” Range said, staring down the hole. It was a much clearer day by now, and the wind was softer.

     “Well, if they stayed quiet and they bribed him with Neggs or treasure. He is rather a miserly fellow.”

     “And this was definitely where he was standing – a JubJub by the build of him. Second question. Would the Snowager let us in there?”

     “I just saw a shadow, and he’d let me, but I don’t know about the rest of you.” Phizith relented. “If I explained... probably. No guarantees?”

     “You’re a real help,” Dez said.

     “I try. So...” Phizith indicated the tunnel with a broad sweep of his wing.

     “You first.”

     “It’s slippery,” Phizith warned. “Be prepared.” He scooped up Rune and entered the tunnel.

     As before, the Pteri lost control down the steep chute, sliding several metres before coasting to a stop. He propelled himself out of the way and rose off the ground, melting the moisture on his feathers.

     The Snowager turned its head and stared at Phizith with its hollow eyes.

     “Hey, pal,” Phizith said quietly. “Can some friends of mine come in here?”

     The Snowager nodded its massive head and retired to its plushie pile.

     “As long as they stay quiet. Okay then.”

     Range slid through the hole, perfectly keeping his pose, holding his stick in his paw. Kiran, Perk and Dez followed soon after, Perk miscalculating and banging into the wall.

     Thump.

     Range looked around, spotting a feather of smoke not far away. A JubJub peeked its head around a stack of items.

     “Hey,” Range called, his voice echoing strangely from the walls.

     The JubJub squeaked and whipped back around.

     “Great,” Range muttered. He began walking toward the fire, followed by Kiran, Dez and Perk. Phizith trailed behind.

     What met them halfway Phizith assumed was Sunny Shadow: a bunch of yellow JubJubs, led by a shadow Kacheek.

     “These guys are supposed to be a threat?” Phizith muttered under his breath.

     Range gave a lopsided smile. “Not for long.” He called out to the Kacheek. “If you give us back what you stole, I might consider leaving you alone.”

     The Kacheek glared at Range. “Threatening me isn’t going to do any good, Zafara! You have more things than you need!”

     “Perhaps, but in this case you took something rather special. Going to surrender? No? I thought not.”

     Range threw his baton faster than thought. The Kacheek yelped and wrung his injured hand, the baton falling to the ice at his feet. Range slid over, using the ice to strengthen his own momentum, and snatched the stick before it touched the ground. Then he whipped behind the Kacheek, holding the stick tight over his throat.

     “Perhaps you would like to rethink your decision?”

     The Kacheek gulped, although the stick made it difficult.

     Phizith watched the once-powerful (not) Sunny Shadow fleeing and turned to Range. “Have you got the key now? Work complete?”

     Range walked over to one of the brown sacks Sunny Shadow had left behind. Rummaging around in it, he pulled out a plain wadjet.

     “THAT is the key?” Phizith said, making no attempt to hide his skepticism.

     “Certainly. Why not? Naja here is a very special little snake. He can access areas and unlock the tomb for us that way, and this will be a very profitable tomb. Maybe even a temple. Tell you what, if you drop by the desert in a month or so, you can join us. A pair of wings and a quick mind are always useful.” Range rummaged in the sack. “Here.” He tossed Phizith a small earring shaped like an ankh, identical to the one he wore, and the ones worn by the rest of the Shifting Sands. “Consider yourself an honorary member. That means you can help out on the dangerous bits without getting on my nerves the rest of the time.”

     Phizith carefully attacked the stud on to his tail. “I’ll come – so long as I can bring my brother, he’ll want to come.” The Pteri pulled a face.

     “Great.” Range turned.

     Phizith cleared his throat.

     “No need for money between friends,” Range reminded him. “But here.” He tossed Phizith a large bag of cold coins, printed with a scarab. “And we don’t need this.” A simple, sturdy little bowl decorated with some kind of hieroglyphs.

     “Gee, thanks. Such great riches,” Phizith said sarcastically. He paused. “See you in a month, I suppose.”

The End

 
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