The Dust Devils (excerpt)

by Sean Williams

Ros drew the camel to a halt as a pair of very strange contraptions crested the next dune along from his.

It wasn’t immediately obviously if they were machine or beast or a weird merger of the two. He could see right through their struts and axles to the sky and sand beyond. As large as houses but spindly like insects, they had numerous legs that rose and fell with clockwork precision. One hissed and jerked as it moved, creating a racket unfamiliar to Ros’s ears. The other proceeded in absolute silence. Atop each of them sat a young man, protected from the sun by a broad parasol and dressed in winding robes. Their turbans were red, like the straps across their chests.

The camel shifted restlessly beneath him.

‘I agree, Know-it-all,’ Ros said. ‘Let’s give them a wide berth.’

But it was too late. The two young men had already seen him. Waving and shouting, they urged their strange

mounts in his direction with much pulling of levers and turning of cranks.

Ros worried at his lower lip.

(Don’t stop) whispered a faint voice in his ear.

‘Shhh, Adi,’ he told the ghost. ‘We might as well ask for directions now they’re on their way. I promise we won’t be long.’

If only it would be so easy to soothe his own misgivings. His previous promise, to put Adi’s disembodied mind back where it belonged, was proving enormously difficult to keep. First he had to find her body, which meant finding her family, and they appeared to have been swallowed whole by this boundless desert . . .

‘Well, hello!’ cried the first rider as he crested Ros’s dune and came within earshot. He was no more than seventeen, with long limbs, a golden suntan and gaps in his smile. ‘Are you lost?’

‘No,’ Ros said. ‘I’m looking for someone.’

‘Most people come out here to lose people.’ The young man’s grin grew even wider. ‘Ain’t that so, Shiggins?’

‘Surely is, Drass.’

The second rider had come up beside the first, no older than Drass but stockier and dark of complexion. Both machines eased to a halt, accompanied by much hissing and creaking. Arrowhead feet flicked up sand in their wake, leaving broad angular tracks that could never be mistaken for anything living.

‘I can’t imagine who you might find in these quarters,’ Shiggins went on.

‘A Clan caravan,’ Ros explained, in the unlikely event that they could help him. ‘They would have come this way in the last few days. Have you seen them?’

‘Maybe,’ said Drass, resting his elbow on one knee. His seat was higher than Ros’s saddle. ‘Do they go by a name?’

‘Sabatino.’

‘That ring a bell to you, Shiggins?’

‘Not a tinkle, Drass.’ The second rider pursed his lips in regret. ‘Truly sorry, boy. You’ve come a long way for nothing.’

‘I know they’re here somewhere.’ Ros’s gaze drifted to the horizon ahead. He had been following Adi’s directions faithfully for two weeks now, even when she had urged him off the main Ulum–Boliva road and into the deeper desert. The sand seemed endless out here; the shifting dunes erased every trace left by the wheeled wagons of the caravan, so they might as well have lifted up and flown away. ‘They can’t stay ahead of me forever.’

‘I bet they can’t,’ said Drass. His gaze lingered on Ros a little too long. ‘How are you off for water, little man?’

‘Got enough for three days,’ he said, looking at the deflated saddlebags hanging over the camel’s sloped flanks. ‘I’d buy some more if you have any to spare.’

‘Oh, you’ve got money, have you?’ The second rider rose from his seat and climbed down through his walking contraption as though it was playground equipment. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

‘I don’t have much,’ he said, gripping the reins tightly in both hands, ready to bolt.

‘Easy,’ said Drass from his perch. ‘Money is worth nothing out here.’

Ros looked down at Shiggins, who had come up below him and was holding up a hand to help him down.

‘Drass is telling the truth,’ he said. ‘Where would we spend your money if we did steal it from you?’

Ros hesitated. He had no reason to trust two strangers in an empty desert. After his best friend Escher had betrayed him, he’d learned not to trust anyone. Besides, Adi’s family surely couldn’t be far away now. Three days, maybe four if he was frugal with the water, would be enough to reach them.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘But I think I’ll keep on moving, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘All the same to us?’ repeated Drass. ‘What do you think, Shiggins?’

‘I think his money is as worthless as buttons,’ said Shiggins, ‘but his camel is priceless.’

He lunged for Ros’s arm and caught it before Ros could pull away. The camel growled and stepped backwards, but not before Ros was pulled off the saddle and the reins taken in firm hands. He hit the sand with a muffled cry, and scrambled away from the beast’s kicking hooves. Shiggins wrenched Know-it-all from side to side, keeping the camel between him and Ros.

‘You can’t do this!’ Ros shouted.

‘Yeah?’ leered Shiggins past the camel’s lunging neck. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

Ros didn’t waste energy answering. He concentrated instead on everything he had learned about the Change. Escher, the Golem of Omus, had described it as the energy of life, that which made trees grow and mountains erode, invisible, powerful and everywhere. Ros’s knowledge was limited, but even a little was a dangerous thing. He could throw rocks, twist metal and start fires. He could surely stop two thugs from stealing everything he owned.

His curly brown hair lifted in a sudden breeze as the living energies of the world stirred at his command.

‘Let go of the reins,’ he told the thief, thinking it only fair to sound a warning before he acted.

‘Hey, Drass,’ called Shiggins, looking at a point over Ros’s shoulder. ‘We’ve got a live one here!’

Something hard struck Ros on the back of his head, and he fell face forward into the sand. The world went black.

* * *

When he awoke, the sun had moved halfway across the sky and a stiff wind had piled a drift of sand against his right cheek. He brushed it away and struggled to a sitting position. His head throbbed, but that wasn’t the worst part of the situation he now found himself in.

Apart from him, the dune was featureless. The thieves had left him no food, no water, no compass and no camel. Only his hat remained, dropped near his head in a casually cruel parting gesture. The strange tracks of the machines the bandits had rode led off into the distance. He considered following them — but what would he do when he caught up? He needed to think carefully about that path before committing himself to it.

‘Oh, Adi,’ he said, feeling hot tears pricking at his sand-crusted eyes. ‘I’m sorry I let you down.’

(Find me) she whispered, as she always did when he had been immobile too long. (North. Don’t stop.)

‘If you could only tell me how far away your family is!’

(North) she repeated. (North!)

He felt frustration but not anger. It wasn’t Adi’s fault she couldn’t answer that question. She was only an echo of herself, seeing the world through a ghost’s shrouded eyes. He was lucky they could talk at all; otherwise he would have been completely alone.

Following the bandits’ tracks wasn’t his only option. He could head north, as indicated by the passage of the sun. The Clan caravan could be close enough to reach in a day, in which case his missing supplies would be nothing more than an inconvenience. If they were further away than that, however, it could be the death of him.

It took him time to come to a decision that felt right. He had used the Change to fight before, and he hadn’t liked it. There was a cost to using the Change and it wasn’t just physical; using the power of life to hurt or even kill didn’t sit well with him. So following Adi’s family was what he would do. His only concern was for Know-it-all. Perhaps when he found Adi’s family they could double back and come to the camel’s rescue.

‘One thing at a time,’ he told himself, ‘and one foot in front of the other.’

He licked his parched lips and tasted salt. A shadow lay on the southern horizon, but he didn’t dare hope for rain.

(North) whispered the ghost in his ear.

Adi clung so close to him that he could almost smell her, spicy and warm. Taking what comfort he could from that, he trudged down the side of the dune and up the next one.

* * *

By nightfall, the shadow to the south had deepened to black and the wind was stiff enough to make him stumble. For the first time he thought about shelter. The robe he wore had been sold to him by a trader in the distant underground city of Ulum, who had explained to Ros how to wind the fabric around himself during the day to keep the sun off his pale skin. He didn’t know how well he would fare when the sun was gone and the desert chill settled across the dunes. Previously he’d had the warm camel to lie against.

With the last of the light, he scanned the horizon for any signs of life. There was no trace of the caravan, either its gaily painted wagons or the ruts of its wheels. Slightly west of north he saw a break in the endless dunes. Something was shivering in the air rising off the still-warm sand. A tree, perhaps, or the remains of a chimney. Wrapping his robe tightly around him, he changed course to head towards it.

Thirst dragged his heels like a leaden weight. He longed for a single sip of water, and prayed there might be dew in the morning. Sometimes he had woken to find chilly dampness on his pack and the camel’s leather harness. Had the opportunity presented itself, he would suck at either now in the hope of a single drop.

Blue above faded to orange with unnatural suddenness, then proceeded entirely to black. Stars appeared like the lights of distant cities, twinkling with chilly welcome. Ros tried singing songs to keep his mood up, but they reminded him of home and made him feel more isolated than ever. The memory of his family hiding while he duelled the Golem of Omus haunted him as doggedly as Adi’s voice. His powers had frightened them. He had frightened them. No amount of power could make up for that. Sometimes, late at night, he huddled against Know-it-all’s warm side and cried over things he had once thought never to miss: his father’s temper, his mother’s acid tongue, the well-aimed stones his sister threw to annoy him . . .

He looked behind him to check on the shadow. It had grown to cover a third of the night sky. Whipping, moaning wind entangled his robe between his legs and he dropped like a dead thing to the sand.

Spitting and spluttering, he struggled back to his feet and resolved to keep his eyes forward, even though he could no longer see his destination. As the light had held, he had discerned the leafy tops of palms directly in his path, but whether it was an oasis, a mirage or a hallucination he couldn’t tell. He hoped for the first, and that he wouldn’t stumble past it in the dark.

The moaning of the wind grew louder and stronger, driving sheets of sand into his face that made him blink rapidly. The shadow now loomed above and to either side of him, like a hole sucking in the world.

(Beware) said Adi’s ghost in his ear, as she hadn’t done since he had imprisoned the Golem of Omus in its crystal cell. The ominous warning made him clutch at the tiny leather pouch suspended from his belt. It was still there, overlooked by the bandits when they had taken the rest of his valuables. That was something. But why then was Adi warning him when there was nothing around but sand and air? And the storm . . .

With an unearthly screech, it struck. Powerful winds slapped him hard, making him stagger with his eyes tightly closed. His hat was instantly whipped away. He could barely stand, let alone walk. The assault on his senses was complete. Even breathing was difficult.

He forced himself to stagger on, ignoring the strange feeling that the wind was laughing at him, that in its shrieking and wailing were actual voices, full of glee at his predicament. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by such fancies. He had to keep walking, for Adi’s sake as well as his own.

Insubstantial fingers clutched at him, as rough as sand and cold as ice. He flailed at them and threw himself bodily forward.

Something loomed out of the sandstorm and he almost ran headlong into it before he could stop. His clutching fingers felt bark and wood. A tree!

Hope filled him. He had found the oasis. But now what?

The wind took on an anguished pitch. Water was suddenly the least of his problems. Surviving the night was a more pressing issue. He didn’t know if the storm could actually harm him, but he wasn’t prepared to give it the chance. The voices he could hear were real, not imaginary.

‘Why don’t you leave me alone?’ he shouted. ‘I never did anything to you!’

The wind snatched the words from his mouth.

Come with us, whispered the voice of the storm. Fly with us forever.

‘No!’ He clung to the tree like a child to its mother’s leg. ‘I have to save Adi!’

She is lost like you. Fly. Fly!

Ros fought the hypnotic power of the voice as the storm bent around him, shrieking and wailing, pulling at him with unnatural power. He cowered at its heart, in the dark centre of a baleful funnel, with every muscle clenched tight. He closed his eyes and tried to hang on.

‘Give me strength, Adi,’ he pleaded. ‘Help me!’

He felt her presence settle over him again. With his mind and heart he clutched at her and the comfort she offered. The Change stirred at his unconscious command, sending strange geometric patterns dancing behind his closed eyelids — and for a moment she and he were one.

* * *

‘Take your hands away, my darling,’ said her mother.

‘Let me see your face.’

‘No. Leave me alone!’

‘Your father won’t listen to you when you’re like this. You know that. He’s used to dealing with the men of the Clan. They have their own way of talking — and of arguing. You have to learn their ways if you’re ever to get what you want.’

Adi forced herself to stop crying and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her mother was a watery blur that only resolved when she blinked her eyes several times.

‘There.’ Gentle hands reached for her when she sat up. The opening lines of a familiar lullaby flowed from her mother’s tongue like syrup. ‘A la nana mi rey, a la nana mi ro —’

‘Mother, no.’ She pushed the hands away. ‘I’m not a baby any more.’

The smile slipped a notch. ‘You’re not, and that saddens me. Soon you’ll be a woman, and I know what that means better than you.’

‘It means I should be able to go with Father when he meets with the other Clans.’ Defiance made her voice harsh. The thought of everything she’d been denied made her want to cry again. ‘It means I should be allowed to barter with the others and look for bargains in the marketplaces. It means —’

‘Shhh.’ This time Adi couldn’t resist the hands that folded over hers. ‘I’ll talk to Ulick when he comes back tonight and see what I can do. You know how he gets when you fight him. Give him time to think and I’m sure he’ll understand just how like him you are.’

‘I’m nothing like him!’ Adi protested even as she recognised the truth in her mother’s words. She felt suddenly weary, and leaned closer to be hugged. ‘I just want to do my part.’

‘You will,’ murmured the warm voice in her ear. ‘You will.’

Adi’s father did indeed relent that night and agreed that she should come to the town’s marketplace with him the next morning. And she went and was dazzled by the produce around her. Jars of spices in every imaginable colour; seeds and roots that stank so strongly she sneezed; salted meat in wizened strands; bulbous fruit and vegetables, pickled and bitter; handcrafted pottery so delicate a cough would shatter them; knives and tools fashioned from iron smelted on the other side of the Interior; clothes woven and dyed by clever hands on looms as broad as she was tall; and relics of a forgotten time, strange, unidentifiable fragments of metal, dull with age but possessing a sheen all of their own, made magical by rarity and price.

It was a whole new world. She looked forward to a long and bright future of buying and selling and thereby continuing the Clan’s good fortune.

At the market, on that first day, she was introduced to the head man of Clan Disario, but he meant nothing more to her than another tall, grey-haired figure like her father, smoking tobacco from a pipe and nodding at her with smiling eyes. A month later, however, on the road between towns, her mother died of stomach fever, and the very next day word came from Clan Disario saying that their head man had accepted her father’s offer of betrothal to his son Akil, a boy she had never met. Adi was suddenly motherless and engaged. The bright future tarnished before her and turned to rust.

Then she met Ros and recognised a soul in similar need; and he had helped her, or would have but for the intervention of crabblers and the Golem of Omus, and the slight inconvenience of her death . . .