Exiled

by Blake Arthur Peel

  This seems to cause the gathered youths to panic, sending them scrambling over to Uxai and up into the exit tunnel. They don’t even spare me a second glance, but they do hold onto the spears I had given them, rushing out of the mine with them in-hand.

  I go over to Zara, who is standing dumbfounded beside the giant source crystal. “What’s going on?”

  She looks at me, concerned lines pinching at the corners of her eyes. “He says that demons are coming,” she replies uneasily. “He says that we all need to go back now.”

  Letting out a deep breath, I nod and reach for Zara’s hand. “Let’s go, then.”

  She takes my hand and together we make our way over to the tunnel. Most of the youths have already made their way up. When we reach the shadow of the tunnel entrance, I reach down and pick up the safety rope and begin to climb, Zara still clutching my hand.

  Even after all of these days, the climb is arduous. The tunnel winds through pitch blackness through the bowels of the hill. Still, in a quarter hour we come out the other side, stepping out into the blinding sun at the entrance of the mine.

  Almost everyone has already left the cleft between the hills and is making their way toward the encampment. Without saying a word to each other, the two of us follow suit, running as quickly as we can in the same direction.

  As we go, my thoughts race. More demons? What could this mean? Are they here to take more resources and kidnap more people? The memory of that day weeks ago boils my blood.

  The journey through the hills is long and hot, but we make it through without incident, coming out onto the plains where the tents are all set up. As we approach, I can see a large group of people gathered on the other side, kneeling in reverence as others filter over through the tents.

  "They're already here," Zara breathes, concern lining her face.

  "We'll just have to keep low," I say, winded as well. "As long as we keep a low profile, the demons won't notice we are here."

  I'm not sure why the youths were so determined to come here upon hearing the news of the demons. To me, it seems perfectly logical to wait underground for the whole thing to blow over.

  Maybe there is some sort of mandate from R'Laar, I find myself thinking as we make our way over to the tents. Perhaps those who do not come to meet the demons are punished in some terrible way.

  Again, the thought causes my chest to flare with anger, and I have to force it down to keep me from doing anything rash.

  Eventually, we approach the gathering of slaves as they kneel at the edge of camp. Near the back, the youths are gathered in a small cluster, their handmade weapons laying on the ground beside them. Probably not a good thing they brought those, I think, noticing the looks of alarm the older slaves shoot their way. Well... nothing that can be done about that now.

  Zara and I crouch down in the shade of a tent, watching the proceedings from the farthest distance possible.

  Ahead, there is no grand procession of flame-wielding demons. In fact, as far as I can tell, there are only three gorgons at the front of the gathered crowd. They seem to be examining baskets of grain, speaking to one another in their harsh, guttural language.

  "Nima deyishadi," Zara asks, leaning forward and speaking to one of the young girls she had been teaching.

  She gives a quick response that I can barely even hear.

  "What's going on?" I ask Zara.

  She bites her lower lip, looking worried. "This seems to be a rather common occurrence," she replies, keeping her voice low. "Demons come to inspect their progress and cause trouble. She says it usually doesn't last for long."

  I frown and gaze forward, watching the events at the front unfold. The demons seem to be arguing about something. Then, they turn and point to an old woman in the crowd. I recognize her as one of the elders we had met on our first night here.

  She stands up, looking calm and cool, and approaches the demons, motioning to the gathered resources and answering their supposed question.

  Her response does not seem to please them.

  One of the gorgons yells at her, causing her to shrink back a little in fear. She says something else, which prompts the other two gorgons to chuckle, a grating, unnerving sound.

  The first gorgon bellows in rage and draws its sword, and I have to resist the urge to reach for my own weapon and leap to her defense.

  Careful, Owyn, I remind myself, taking a breath. You don't want to stir up any trouble.

  The demon swings, using its sword like a farmer cutting wheat with his sickle. The weapon slices the woman's stomach, sending her falling backward onto the ground, and I can see crimson blood staining the monster's blade.

  Yari, who kneels nearby, grunts in fury, his fists clenched as he watches the murder from the back. His friends seem to hold him back, whispering calming words into his ear.

  They do not seem to do much in calming his fury.

  The demons all start to laugh, their voices ringing out over the crowd of cowering slaves. Then, after a few moments, one of them turns to address everyone, its voice coarse and commanding.

  "What is he saying?" I whisper to Zara, who seems to be listening intently.

  She turns to me, and I can see that the blood has drained from her face. "They say as punishment for the insufficient amount of resources, they are going to take a captive."

  "Hells," I curse under my breath.

  It's happening again.

  The demon begins making its way through the camp, examining everyone with its glowing, red eyes. Everywhere its gaze sweeps, people cower in fright, and eventually, it makes its way near to where our group is kneeling. It does not seem to notice Zara and I, however. Its eyes seem focused on a young girl not five paces away.

  It levels a black-nailed finger at her, and she begins to cry.

  Yari says something quietly to his friends around him, then reaches down and picks up the wooden spear.

  "Oh, no," Zara says, pointing at him. "I think he is about to do something very stupid."

  Before either of us can do anything, Yari is on his feet and charging the demon, spear in hand. He lets out a savage yell and aims the point at the thing's chest. The gorgon turns, eyes going wide with surprise, then grunts as the spear jabs into its black armor, point puncturing its chest.

  For all Yari's bravado, the thrust is clumsy and poorly executed. The spear snaps in his hands before it can go deep enough. The demon looks down, confused, then quickly contorts its ugly face in rage.

  I jump to my feet, pulling out my quill dagger, and begin racing toward Yari as swiftly as I can. Around us, the slaves shuffle to the sides, wanting no part in the fight that is to come. Just as the gorgon is about to draw its sword and retaliate, I shove Yari out of the way and send him rolling to the side.

  The demon pulls its weapon out and stares at me, a cold smile parting its red and black lips.

  That's right, I think, bringing up my dagger and falling into a fighting stance. I'm not one of these people.

  It lunges, bringing its sword down in a downward arc, and I easily sidestep to get out of the way. Then, seeing an opportunity to strike, I leap at the demon's unprotected side, stabbing my quill into a weak point it its armor. The point goes deep, and the gorgon lets out a howl of pain.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Zara is now standing up as well, her talisman in hand as she faces down the other two demons who are now racing to our position.

  The gorgon spins, slashing with its sword, but I dodge this attack as well, jumping back on my heels and then running forward again as the sword goes wide. The demon panics now, realizing its mistake, but it’s already too late. When it tries to bring its sword in, I shove my dagger up, stabbing the point beneath its chin and up into its brain.

  Magefyre flashes behind me, and the slaves all let out a cry of alarm.

  Letting the body slump to the ground, I turn to see that Zara has engulfed one of the remaining demons in blue flames, causing it to shriek in agony and drop its weapon as
it attempts to put out the magical fire. The other, though, seems warier, crouching low to the side and keeping and putting distance between him and Zara.

  What happens next surprises me, as the youths all jump to their feet and lift their spears into the air. They let out a battle cry and charge, running toward the remaining demon with reckless abandon.

  I curse.

  Racing to follow them, I watch in horror as one of the young men is cut down. I think his name is Tiui. Zara lowers her next ball of magefyre, not wanting to harm any of the youths now standing in her way.

  Shoving a pair of spear-wielding boys out of the way, I throw myself in between the rest and the demon, narrowly dodging the creature's next attack. Then, I lower my head and drive my shoulder into its gut, knocking both of us to the ground in a cloud of dust.

  I roll to the side. Trying to avoid being skewered as the youths descend on the demon, stabbing wildly with their spears at every possible angle. At first, the gorgon tries to get up, it roars of anger becoming yelps of pain, but soon it collapses, pierced dozens of times with the bloody points of the makeshift spears.

  Just like that, it is all over, the three demons dead at our feet.

  I push myself up and go over to Zara, noting the horrified eyes on all of us. Apparently, we've just made a bad situation terribly worse.

  "You okay?" She asks as I approach.

  Nodding, I wipe the quill on the hem of my cloak then replace it back on my belt. "Well... that could have gone better."

  Breathless, the youths all stand back, looks of amazement painting their faces. They seem equally surprised at their own actions, their faces drawn and pale.

  "Nima qilib qo'yding?" Someone cries, an elder with white hair and multi-colored beads adorning his neck. He stumbles out of the mass of shocked-looking people, expression appalled. "Nima uchun bunday narsalarni qilasiz?"

  "What's he saying?" I ask, leaning over to Zara.

  "I'm not really sure," she replies. "Though, if I were to guess, it would be, 'What have you done?' or something along those lines."

  Yari steps forward wearing a look of grim determination on his youthful face. "Biz qo'rqqan narsalarni qildik," he says defiantly. "O'zimizni himoya qildik."

  Zara translates softly in my ear. "I think he’s saying that they've done what the others have been too afraid to do... they've defended themselves."

  A terse yet brief conversation ensues between the elder and the youth, but I do not need a translation to understand the meaning. The old man's wild gestures and furious demeanor tell me everything I need to know about the exchange: we've crossed a boundary that hasn't likely been crossed in centuries.

  Finally, the elder shakes his head and spits upon the ground, proclaiming something that sounds very much like a curse.

  "What was that last bit?" I ask, lowering my voice as an uncomfortable silence ensues.

  She turns to me, looking more than a little troubled. "He condemns us all for dooming them," she says with chagrin. "Owyn, he wants to turn us over to the demons to answer for our crimes.”

  Reaching down to my dagger, I growl, "I've already been sentenced to death once. I'll be damned if I'm going to let it happen again."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Zara

  "Owyn," I snap, resting a hand on his arm. "Don't you dare do anything rash!"

  He grunts, but does not insist on drawing his weapon. "What do you want me to do, Zara? Let them hand us over to the R'Laar?"

  I give him a suffering look. "And who's going to lay a hand on us? Look at these people... they're terrified! And we just took down three gorgons! I highly doubt anyone is going to force us to march over to the demon camp as prisoners."

  Owyn glances about and after a moment, his expression softens. He removes his hand from the hilt of his dagger, seeing the terrified and uncertain expressions on everyone's faces.

  Still, the elder looks furious.

  "You've doomed us all!" He cries in their language, waving his hands about wildly. "Our blood is on your hands!" He continues on, and I cannot understand everything he is saying, but the overall message seems to be that Owyn and I should be driven from the encampment.

  When next he turns on us, it seems almost as if he is about to rush up and apprehend us himself.

  Seemingly on cue, the youths all surround us, stepping in front of Owyn and I protectively with their spears held up. Yari fixes the old man with a cold expression. "If you are going to harm them, you will have to harm us, first."

  The confidence in which he says this gives the old man pause.

  His hesitation gives me an opening, and I decide to use the opportunity to speak to the gathered host of people. Acting quickly, I step forward and mentally search for the right words to use in my speech.

  “I do not speak your language very well,” I say, fumbling over the words despite my best efforts, “but I hope you will listen to what I have to say. I have grown to care for your people and have only their best interests in my heart.”

  I wince, cringing inwardly at my horrendous grammar, but nobody seems to care. In fact, they begin to gather around me, apparently curious about my message.

  Steeling myself, I continue. “The demons want only your death. They steal from you, take your children... this is not how it should be. All of us deserve to be free. That is what we experienced in Tarsynium, where we came from.” I gesture to Owyn and myself. “That is where you and your families will be safe.”

  A cackling laughter rises from someone in the crowd, a scornful, bitter sound. It is another white-haired elder, a woman with multi-colored beads dancing with the heaving motions of her chest.

  “Yolg'on gapirsangiz,” she says, wheezing. “Bizni hamma o'ldirasiz.” From what I can tell she is calling me a liar and claims that our actions will kill them all.

  Murmuring whispers begin to make their way through the crowd, and I can tell that doubt is hanging over them all like a storm cloud. Acting on a sudden impulse, I reach into a pocket in my robes and pull out my newly-created talisman.

  Owyn glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What are you doing?”

  I set my jaw. “Something reckless,” I reply while raising my hand to quiet the crowd.

  “You now have a choice,” I declare in their tongue, lifting my voice high so that all can hear. “When the demons discover that their messengers were killed, they will come to punish you. Many will die. But if you come with us, flee to the green lands of Tarsynium, then you will be free at last!”

  Reaching for the well of source energy within, I take hold of the power and begin to channel, feeling crackling radiance begin to gather at my fingertips. Then, thrusting my right hand into the air, I bellow the words of power, “Solas ó na flaithis!”

  Blue light surges from my fingers and into the sky, filling the air with an azure brilliance that is near blinding. It shimmers upward like a spear, stabbing the sky, and then arcs down in all directions in a shower of sparks, making me look like some sort of mystical fountain. No heat emanates from the radiant magic – this spell is mostly for show – but it seems to have the desired effect on the gathered people, making them gaze at my display with looks of awe.

  By the time I release my hold on the source energy, the sparks fading to nothingness and it has grown so quiet that all I can hear is the faint rustle of the wind.

  Feeling drained, I lower my hand and put away the talisman, turning to face the crowd once more. “The demons will come for you here, but if you remain with us, then you will have a chance to survive. We will leave now to return to our home in Tarsynium, and anyone who comes with us will be granted our protection. You will be slaves no longer. We will make sure that you are free.”

  Again, I feel like my poor grasp of the language has made my phrasing unintelligible, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

  With wide eyes and reverent expressions, almost every single person in the crowd bows themselves to the earth, prostrating themselves before us as if we are go
ds. Nobody even says a word, not even the surly elders and their handful of followers, who seem much more uncertain than they had before.

  Owyn glances at me and raises an eyebrow. “What in the world did you say to them?”

  My cheeks grow red with embarrassment. “I’m... not really sure, to be honest. I think it has more to do with the magic than it does with what I said.”

  He nods, looking back over the bowing people. “Well, whatever the case, it seems that we’ve won them over. What do we do now?”

  I consider this for a moment, then reply. “We need to make our way to the Arc at once. It won’t be long before the R’Laar discover what we did here. They’ll come after us... and when they do, I’m afraid that many more will die.”

  “Alright,” he replies, gesturing to the crowd. “Tell them.”

  THE NEXT DAY PASSES in a chaotic, disorganized blur.

  Between the weeping, the arguing elders, and the air of uncertainty, the encampment seems to have descended from a relatively peaceful community into absolute chaos, with every possible reaction to the demon killings being represented. Some people, most of the elders included, still desire to grovel for their lives and hope that the R’Laar will be merciful. Others seem to want only to drink uzqi and fall into a stupor. Most, though, seem to cling to the promises Owyn and I have made, seeing them as their only opportunity for salvation when the demons inevitably return.

  Even so, I know that deep down it will take a miracle for us to return to Tarsynium – especially if it means we will be required to save everyone’s lives.

  I take it upon myself to attempt to organize the madness by communicating in my broken language how we should proceed moving forward. It proves difficult at first, but people seem grateful that someone is taking charge.

  We begin with gathering all the supplies we can and placing them on the outside of camp. Food, water, blankets and clothing – anything that can be carried is taken out and set aside in preparation for the journey. Then, we begin breaking down tents and rolling up the skins around the wooden supports, trying to make them as portable as possible.