The First Champion

by Sandell Wall

  “I hope you’re right. It’s a comforting idea, the thought that he’s out there watching over us.”

  They lapsed into silence, and Lacrael found herself lost in memories of home. She realized that she had never expected to return. She certainly had never wanted to come back here. Garlang had been the only good thing about Vaul, and he was dead. Lacrael wanted nothing to do with a family that had given her up to the empire. She decided that her only choice was to keep her presence hidden at any cost.

  There were ways a forsaken could make themselves invisible in plain sight. Even though she was a disgraced daughter of a chieftain, she still felt shame at the thought. Those forsaken that abandoned the tribes for a life of servitude in the empire were spit upon. But to present herself as one of those unfortunate souls might be her only option.

  One thing was certain, they were trading one danger for another. At least the Ravening could only kill them. There were worse fates than death to be found in the Palacostian Empire.

  Chapter 7

  KAISER HIKED THROUGH THE sand twenty paces behind Lacrael and Niad. The two of them had been talking intently for the past hour. They stopped completely several times, distracted by their conversation, before they found the next trail marker and pressed on. Kaiser had to bite his tongue not to yell at them to pick up the pace.

  Tarathine was fading fast. She was a dead weight in Kaiser’s arms. He had to work to keep her head from flopping awkwardly as he walked. The only time she stirred was when he accidentally touched the wound on her back. The spider bite had swollen to twice its original size and started weeping pus. If Kaiser even brushed against it with his arm, Tarathine moaned in pain.

  Sorrell walked at Kaiser’s side but said little. Kaiser was grateful for her silence. It was clear to all of them that Tarathine was dying. His mind took note of this observation, but in his heart, he snarled, raging against the fate that had brought him here. His right arm hurt. Kaiser kept it hidden from everyone else, but he worried that his broken arm from months ago had not healed correctly.

  The miasma seemed agitated. It clawed at Kaiser even while he was moving, which he had never seen it do before. He paid it no need, and the purple tendrils disappeared when he pushed through them.

  “The miasma wants Tarathine,” Sorrell said.

  Alarmed, Kaiser looked down at his daughter’s face. It had not occurred to him that the accursed mist was after her and not him. Tarathine’s mouth hung open, and feelers of dark smoke were wriggling against her pale skin as they reached down her throat. Kaiser swatted the miasma away and put a hand over Tarathine’s mouth. The feelers reached for her nose instead. Kaiser could not protect Tarathine from the stuff without suffocating her.

  “Lacrael!” Kaiser shouted.

  Lacrael and Niad stopped and turned toward his frantic cry. When they saw his attention on Tarathine, the two of them hurried to Kaiser’s side.

  “It's getting inside her,” Kaiser said. “Even when we’re moving. I can’t keep it away.”

  Lacrael watched the miasma coalesce around Tarathine’s face before speaking.

  “I had hoped we had more time,” Lacrael said. “I thought maybe this wouldn’t happen.”

  “What do you mean, maybe? What’s happening to her?”

  “It’s trying to corrupt her. Most things don’t die out here. They just get weaker and weaker until they can no longer resist, and then the Ravening claims them for its own.”

  Kaiser’s world seemed to be tilting. His head throbbed. He gripped Tarathine so hard that she cried out faintly.

  “Speak plainly,” Kaiser said, his voice raw.

  Lacrael hesitated.

  “If the poison doesn’t kill her, she’ll go insane,” Niad said. “The Ravening will possess her, body and soul. And before you ask, there’s no coming back from that.”

  Kaiser’s knees almost buckled. Only by the sheer force of his iron will did he remain standing. His arms trembled, both from the exertion of carrying Tarathine for so long and the emotional turmoil ripping through him.

  “Our only chance is to get free of the miasma and find help for her,” Lacrael said.

  Kaiser could only nod. His tongue seemed to have forgotten how to form words. Sorrell placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. When Kaiser did not speak, Lacrael and Niad turned their attention back to the trail.

  Sorrell stayed close by his side. Kaiser clutched Tarathine to himself, painfully aware of how fragile she felt. Dark clouds of despair over his inability to help her filled his soul. The only thing he could do was put one foot in front of the next.

  After what seemed like many long hours of trudging through an unchanging desert, the miasma started to thin. The effect was gradual, and none of them noticed until Lacrael pulled down her mask to catch her breath and discovered that the air was less tainted.

  Kaiser and Sorrell caught up to her as she was having an excited exchange with Niad.

  “The air is more breathable, I’m sure of it,” Lacrael said. “And now that I’m looking for it, I can see more of the sky overhead too.”

  “Maybe it is, but we shouldn’t assume we’re near the end,” Niad said. “There could easily be pockets or oases where the miasma is weaker. Let’s stick to our pace and preserve our energy. And we should all keep our masks on. We’re not free of the Ravening yet.”

  Niad’s caution tempered their expectations, but nothing could diminish the sense of anticipation they all felt. They set out again, this time moving as a group rather than leaving distance between them. Brant caught up, and in his arms, an alert Gustavus peered at the sky overhead.

  Soon, it became obvious that they were approaching the edge of the Ravening. The miasma retreated under the heat of the sun, and the pale blue sky shone through brighter than they had seen in months. No one spoke yet, but their pace quickened.

  Lacrael and Niad were the first to step out of the miasma, with Kaiser and Sorrell right behind them. They stumbled to a stop. Everyone else joined Lacrael in removing their masks. Kaiser checked Tarathine—the miasma around her nose and mouth was gone. He might have been imagining it, but he thought she was breathing a bit easier.

  “So this hideous realm does have a proper sky,” Gustavus said, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

  Kaiser turned and looked behind them. The miasma rose from the sand at his feet like fog climbing the slope of a mountain, the top of which towered over his head in the distance. Even though there was no wind, it shifted and swirled with a mind of its own. Kaiser’s eyes traced the eddies in the wall of fog. They danced like fish swimming beneath the surface of a lake.

  To his surprise, he shuddered. There was something deeply unsettling about the miasma. Now that he was on the outside looking in, some fundamental part of him, something below conscious thought, recoiled from the idea of venturing back into the Ravening.

  Relieved to be free of the corruption, Kaiser turned his attention back to the open landscape. Upon a brief inspection of the horizon, he found his hope for deliverance rapidly dwindling. There was nothing but dead sand as far as the eye could see. Dead was the only way he could think to describe it. In a desert that supported life, the dunes reflected the sun in hues of gold, white, and yellow. Here, the sand appeared to have been drained of all color. It was gray and lifeless.

  Lacrael must have been having the same thought, because when she spoke, it was almost an answer to Kaiser’s growing despair.

  “This is what the Ravening leaves behind,” Lacrael said. “It sucks the life out of everything in its path, even the sand and dirt. This is the edge of my homeland, the desolate lands that the tribes of the forsaken roam.”

  “A desert without poisoned air is still a desert,” Kaiser said. “What’s the difference between dying out here or back the way we came?”

  “This track we’ve been following continues on,” Lacrael said. She pointed at the faint outline of a trail that meandered its way across the dunes. “For it to remain visible, it mus
t be traveled often, at least several times a week. That means a settlement is nearby. I don’t know what we’ll find, but there should at least be shelter and food… as long as we can convince them to share both.”

  “Do you expect a fight?” Kaiser said.

  “I think not. This close to the Ravening, we should only encounter outcasts and fugitives. Out here, those who can’t find a life in the empire or the tribes eke out a harsh existence. As long as we act the part, they’ll think we’re like them, which I suppose we are.”

  Lacrael set out again, and soon, they were all walking single-file along the narrow path. Sorrell walked in front of Kaiser. She held out a hand, and after a second of concentration, formed a rapier of solid ice between her fingers. She glanced back at Kaiser and noticed he was watching.

  “Just making sure I still can,” Sorrell said with a tight smile.

  The trail wound through the undulating dunes, sticking to the valleys between them most of the time. Often, Kaiser found himself walking in the shade of a sand ridge, and he found it a welcome respite from the blazing sunlight. The miasma might have drained the sustenance from the land, but it had done nothing to weaken the sun.

  They walked for several hours, and it was late afternoon when the trail led them straight up the side of a high dune. Kaiser’s legs burned as he carried Tarathine up the sandy slope. When they crested the top, they found themselves standing on the edge of a vast desert plain. At the base of the dune stood the settlement they sought.

  Kaiser’s trained gaze immediately worked to identify fortifications and defenses. He found none. From his vantage point, he saw only a large wooden building surrounded by pitiful little huts. Outside the circle of buildings, the sand had been scraped away in what looked like an effort to grow some sort of crop. The idea that any seed would take purchase out here seemed ludicrous.

  On the side of the settlement facing into the plain, a beaten path a little wider than the trail they now stood on disappeared into the evening haze. Kaiser shaded his eyes and scanned the landscape. Nothing broke the uniform gray of the flat sand. There were no plants, no trees, not even any rocks.

  “At least the Ravening had snails,” Kaiser said.

  “The abyss take your putrid snails,” Gustavus said.

  “We should make ourselves known before nightfall,” Lacrael said.

  “Lead the way,” Kaiser said.

  “Whatever happens, let me do the talking,” Lacrael said. “I know this land, and I have a good idea of the sort of people we’ll meet. We need their help, not their suspicion.”

  “Just get Tarathine help.”

  Lacrael looked at Tarathine. She reached out a hand to caress the girl's face. Without another word, she started down the slope towards the settlement below. The buildings were farther away than they had looked from above. At the base of the dune, Kaiser was pleased to discover hard packed sand. His calves were in agony. Despite his dogged determination, he knew he could not carry Tarathine much longer without resting.

  Instinctively, their little group adopted a defensive formation around Kaiser and Tarathine as they approached the little village. Lacrael and Niad stayed in front. Sorrell walked on Kaiser’s right, where she could summon her rapier at the first sign of danger. Brant walked on his left, easily capable of warding off an attack even with Gustavus in his arms.

  “I don’t see any guards or weapons,” Kaiser said.

  “These people only survive by staying below the notice of anyone who might do them harm,” Lacrael said. “If they showed any sign of taking up arms to defend themselves, they’d be squashed by the nearest tribe. But make no mistake, they’ve seen us and know we’re coming.”

  They passed through the furrows in the dirt that Kaiser had thought to be crops. He glanced down at the tilled earth, expecting to find seeds or signs of plant growth. Instead, he found little ditches, all sloped towards the south, with a small basin at their base. Water was slowly bubbling up from the ground in these troughs and collecting in the basins.

  “Water beds,” Lacrael said in answer to Kaiser’s unasked question. “There’s water in the ground here, which is why these people settled in this spot. The Ravening poisons any water it passes over, so you have to dig down to get to what hasn’t been tainted.”

  Kaiser contemplated this as they passed through the scattered, domed huts. They were a crude mixture of clay, sticks, and whatever brush could be found in the desert. There was not a single stone to be found in their construction. Most were no taller than Kaiser, and many were only big enough to house one or two people as they slept. He glanced through an open doorway as they passed and found frightened eyes looking back at him. The inhabitants of the village were all cowering in their huts, no doubt waiting to see if the newcomers brought trouble with them.

  Lacrael ignored the people hiding in their homes. She made straight for the wooden structure at the center of the village. From a distance, it had appeared sturdy, but as they drew close, Kaiser could not fathom how the building was still standing. Apparently, there were rocks in the surrounding desert, but they had all been used as a base for this building. On top of that crude foundation, ancient wooden planks had been nailed or tied together underneath a flat roof. The boards did not fit cleanly together, leaving finger-width gaps through which Kaiser spotted people moving around inside.

  At the front of the building, the entrance was open, and Lacrael stepped through the doorway without hesitation. She had not indicated that they should not follow her, so Kaiser and the rest of their small band crowded in behind Lacrael.

  Inside, Kaiser discovered that most of the building was one large room. A wall and a cloth-covered doorway at the back indicated a second, smaller room, but most of the structure was devoted to one single space.

  Right now, that space was filled with children. Kaiser counted them out of habit. Ten kids, ranging from what looked like ages three to ten, were seated in a circle around an old man. His features were obscured by a bushy gray beard. Several women were in the room as well, but they had all retreated to the sides when Lacrael entered.

  The wizened old man looked up from instructing the children and smiled at them. He greeted Lacrael in a tongue that Kaiser did not understand, and she responded in kind. Following a brief exchange, she paused to translate for the rest of them.

  “This is Sadreed, the village elder,” Lacrael said. “He’s asked if we come to do harm, and I’ve assured him we’re no threat to his people. We’ve interrupted what passes for a school lesson in this place.”

  Kaiser pushed past Lacrael and strode through the seated children. They scrambled out of his way, and one of the women cried out in alarm. Sadreed never flinched, and his calm smile never wavered as he watched Kaiser come.

  “What are you doing?” Lacrael hissed.

  Acting as if he had not heard Lacrael, Kaiser laid Tarathine gently to the floor in front of Sadreed.

  “Tell him to help her,” Kaiser said.

  “This isn’t how we should make a request,” Lacrael said.

  “Tell him.” Kaiser’s voice left her no other option.

  After a brief pause, Lacrael addressed Sadreed again. Her words were unnecessary. Tarathine’s condition, and Kaiser’s intent, were obvious, and Sadreed had already bent over to inspect the unconscious girl. Kaiser lifted her side to reveal the poison spreading through her body from the site of the spider bite.

  When he saw this, Sadreed sprang to his feet and vanished through the covered door behind him. He returned with a clay jar in his gnarled hand. Eyes on Kaiser, he held up the jar, clearly asking for permission.

  Kaiser gave the man a single, sharp nod.

  Sadreed knelt over Tarathine. He rolled her onto her side to expose the bite. The jar contained some sort of jelly-like substance that he pressed into the wound and massaged into the surrounding skin. Tarathine moaned in pain, but Sadreed did not stop.

  Kaiser watched with clenched teeth.

  Once he finished applyi
ng the salve, Sadreed sat back on his heels and looked up at Lacrael. His face was grim as he spoke. Lacrael translated when he finished speaking.

  “He says that he can only slow the poison spreading through her body—he can’t cure it,” Lacrael said. “He says that he’s saved her life, for now, but that she won’t wake again without proper treatment. Treatment that is beyond his ability and means.”

  “And where would we find this treatment?” Kaiser said. He stood with his arms crossed, hands clenched into fists. He did his best not to lash out at Lacrael in futile anger.

  Lacrael posed the question to Sadreed, who provided a short answer.

  “He says he knows of only one place that has cured miasma sickness,” Lacrael said. “The Palacostian Empire.”

  Chapter 8

  SORRELL SAT NEXT TO Kaiser in the small hut Sadreed had provided them. The village elder had shown them nothing but kindness, which astounded Sorrell. These people possessed nothing, and yet they cared for complete strangers who wandered out of the desert as if they were family. Tarathine lay on the dirt floor, her head in Kaiser’s lap.

  Lacrael and Niad were meeting with Sadreed to explain who they were and where they came from. The huts were not big enough to fit all of them under one roof, so Brant and Gustavus were housed nearby.

  Kaiser had not spoken since the confrontation in the village hall. Once Sadreed stated that Tarathine’s cure could only be found in the Palacostian Empire, Kaiser had wanted to set out right then and there. Only through much painful arguing had they been able to convince him that he needed rest, and they needed a plan.

  In the end, Sorrell had persuaded him, arguing that he was useless to Tarathine if he collapsed in exhaustion. Even though it was the truth, she still felt guilty. Her reasoning might be sound, but it felt like she had manipulated Kaiser.