Walk Through Fire (Prequel)

by Joshua P. Simon

  * * *

  “C’mon. We have to go now.”

  Krytien felt a tug at his robes, but he ignored it. His eyes bounced over the bodies they had yet to load on horseback. They were all near death and he didn’t have the knowledge or even the strength to save them. He swore. There was another tug at his robes followed by a slap in the face. His cheeks flushed and he turned.

  “Bout time I got your attention.” Hag scolded. “I said let’s go. I think that confusion spell you put around our camp is starting to wear off. We’re running out of time.”

  “There are still men left.”

  “They’re too far gone. You’ve done all you can. If you try to bring them with us, they’ll only slow us down and put the rest at risk.”

  There was a strange lull in the shouting and yelling from Effren’s camp that brought Krytien to his feet. Cassus rode up. “Everyone is on the road. Are you coming?”

  The noise from the camp erupted yet again though the excited sounds had changed to chaos. It sounded as if the cries were moving further into the Effren’s camp, but then Krytien noticed a surge of soldiers coming their way.

  Krytien took one last look at the men he had to leave behind and fought back tears. He waddled to his horse and climbed into the saddle. Hag was a half-step behind him. “Did you set that last potion up like I asked you to?” he asked.

  “Aye, it’s where you wanted it,” said Hag. “What is it?”

  “Something I was saving for the right occasion.” He calmed himself, closed his eyes and began an incantation, focusing on the contents of the container near the small half-wall that acted as a border between the Hell Patrol’s camp and Effren’s. After a moment he opened his eyes. “It’s done. Let’s go,” he said, pointing to the approaching mob.

  “What’s done? Nothing happened,” Hag called out as the three set off on horseback.

  “Just keep moving, you old bag of bones.”

  Krytien kicked his mount, doing his best to steer the beast clear of broken rock and holes barely visible by the light of the night sky.

  Booming thunder that shook Krytien’s insides erupted from behind followed by a sudden rush of air that nearly pitched him to the ground. Flames shot up engulfing their old camp while debris rained to the earth.

  “Was that Nitroglycas?” Cassus croaked.

  Krytien cleared his throat. “It was.”

  “What is Nitroglycas?” asked Hag, her voice too was filled with awe.

  “Something that does a lot of damage,” said Cassus, sarcastically.

  Krytien expected a smart comment from Hag, but for once she held her tongue. Wagons and tents burned as bright as the sun. Balls of fire played havoc around the camp. Men screamed. Terrible, drawn-out screams, before dying in agony.

  Finally, Cassus whispered. “One Above, how will Jonrell make it out of that?”

  Ronav never expected to get out. Krytien shook his head and turned his mount. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 7

  If not for the fear of being overtaken by Effren’s army, Krytien knew he would have collapsed long ago.

  The Hell Patrol was less than a day’s ride from Asantia. Riding hard that first night and distancing themselves from Effren’s army, Krytien forced the outfit to maintain a steady pace with little rest. They lost several mounts to exhaustion and took turns walking the animals while the worst of the men rode atop the beasts or in back of the sole wagon they took with them.

  Krytien looked over his shoulder through lids heavy with fatigue and raised a hand to shield the sun. Heads hung low throughout the column of men and chins rested on many a chest as some caught a few winks in the saddle. They would have to stop tonight and rest. Not knowing what to expect when they reached Asantia tomorrow, he figured any strength they could muster from now until then would be advantageous.

  He pulled on the reigns of his mount, but the beast ignored him, too caught up in the steady, monotonous press. Krytien pulled harder, nearly wrenching the animal’s head back before it stopped. Others behind him did the same. Sighs of relief and gasps of breath were interspersed between curses against anything and everything. Krytien eased himself from the saddle, legs shaking from weariness upon touching the ground. He patted the horse on the neck and tied the animal to a nearby tree. He knew he should rub the animal down, but he just didn’t have the energy.

  Cassus came up beside Krytien. The soldier’s thick black hair had matted against his skull. “Are we stopping for the night?

  The mage shook his head. “We can’t afford to stop that long. We’ll take off again sometime before morning after we’ve all caught a few hours of sleep.”

  Cassus sighed. “Four more died.”

  “That makes what? Twenty?”

  “Twenty-two of those who made it out with us.”

  “So, forty-nine in total?”

  “Forty-five, not counting Jonrell, Ronav, Kroke, and Glacar.”

  “They’re gone, Cassus,” said Krytien. “Ronav stalled for us to get out of there.”

  “I won’t believe it until I see proof. They still could have gotten out.”

  “They’d be here by now.”

  “Not necessarily. Who knows what they had to face. One Above, they were in the middle of an entire army.”

  “That’s my point,” said Krytien. He could have kept arguing but stopped when he realized that the man needed to believe. Cassus took it upon himself to step into a role he was not suited for. He could look after Yanasi, but he didn’t have the personality to rally men the way Jonrell had.

  Yet, the man tried, talking to whoever would listen in order to boost moral during their long escape. The strain was taking its toll on him, not just physically but emotionally. Krytien could relate to that.

  Cassus looked at Yanasi a hundred paces away, and Krytien did the same. Obviously exhausted, she should have been resting, yet she leaned against the wagon watching the road behind, searching for someone Krytien knew would never show.

  He reached up to place a hand on Cassus’s shoulder, but pulled away as Yanasi issued a high-pitched scream.

  A sudden shuffle of steel and leather followed as weapons hissed from their scabbards. Krytien started a spell. Yanasi bounded off down the road though moments before she barely had the energy to stand. Cassus set off after her, calling her name. Others followed. From the look of elation on their faces and the hoots and hollers that followed, Krytien ascertained that someone must have caught up to them after all. Filled with a sudden sense of excitement, he found the energy to run after them, positive he must resemble a lunatic—a man of his weight, running in long robes and on the brink of exhaustion. He didn’t care.

  Soldiers slowed and through the spaces between men, Krytien saw a young man, caked in blood and dust. He held Yanasi close as she wrapped her arms tight around his neck. The man whispered into her ear while his gray eyes peeked out through the hair falling in his face. Cassus and the man clasped hands like brothers.

  One Above, Jonrell made it.

  Krytien felt his heart warm. Then a surge of hope hit him, one he had already abandoned. Krytien quickened his pace, craning his neck to and fro.

  The mage pushed his way through the crowd, each welcoming one of their own whom they thought lost to them forever.

  Jonrell saw Krytien and tried to hand Yanasi off to Cassus, but the girl would not let go. He gave up and met the mage’s eyes. “He’s alive, Krytien. Barely. Kroke and Glacar stayed with him. He must have saved each of us at least a half dozen times as we carved our way through Hezen’s army. I still don’t know how we made it,” he said, and Krytien heard the disbelief in his voice. “I was elected to go on ahead since I had the fewest injuries.”

  Jonrell paused to cough and finally forced Yanasi to stand next to him while he collected himself. Krytien looked over the reddened cuts and lacerations over the man’s body, the holes in his armor and the slight limp he walked with.

  How bad are the others?

  Jonr
ell took a deep breath and paused. “We’ve struggled to find water since leaving camp.” Someone handed him a waterskin and he nodded in thanks before drinking deep, wiping cracked lips with the back of his hand.

  “Wait, you said Hezen’s army? What about Effren?” asked Cassus. Krytien had missed the implication.

  “Dead,” said Jonrell. “I’ll fill you in along the way. We stole a few horses while leaving, but they suffered injuries as well and the only one still alive we’ve got Ronav riding. The rest we left for dead.”

  Krytien raised an eyebrow. “How far away?”

  “About an hour’s ride.”

  Krytien looked off toward the setting sun. It would be dark before then. He nodded. “Most of our mounts need to rest as well, but we’ve got a handful able to make the trip. Probably only enough for two to go if we are to have enough mounts for the others to return on.”

  “Then let’s not waste time. He needs you.”

  Krytien nodded and sent a few men off to bring up the animals.

  Ronav needs me? Jonrell’s words, not his. He’d never admit as much.

  Krytien wiped his brow and pushed up his sleeves, anxious to set off. Don’t die now, Ronav. Not after you’ve come so far.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Jonrell. You’re about to collapse. I’ll grab someone else to come with me,” said Krytien.

  “I’m fine. I’ll need to show you where they are.”

  “Point me in the right direction. I’ll find the way. You need to get some rest. Ronav will want you ready for whatever happens tomorrow.” Krytien saw that Jonrell wanted to argue but was too fatigued to put up a fight.

  If Ronav is as bad as you say, you may be forced into leading us sooner than Ronav imagined.

  * * *

  Kroke led Krytien and Raker behind a series of jutting rock formations hidden amongst several tall pines. Ronav hadn’t been able to ride any longer and Kroke and Glacar decided to hide well off the road to wait.

  Raker made a hushed comment about being surprised Kroke hadn’t just stuck a knife in the commander to put him out of his misery. Krytien hissed for Raker to be quiet. The assassin muttered something about Glacar killing any man who would dare harm his new found god.

  Krytien wasn’t sure what the comment meant and Raker seemed just as oblivious.

  Kroke led them deeper into the woods, heavily favoring his right leg. Tight blood-stained bandages wrapped his left. They reached a clearing and found Glacar standing sentinel over a still form on the ground. One arm hung useless in a crude sling, the other held his great ax. Glacar snarled in defiance, widening his stance until they stepped out of the gloom.

  “Put it away,” said Kroke. “It’s Krytien.”

  “What about me?” added Raker.

  “That’s the best Jonrell could do?” asked Glacar.

  “We lost a lot of men and could only bring a few horses with us. The others were in no state to travel,” Krytien told him.

  “Where is Jonrell anyway?”

  “I had him stay behind with the men. He needed rest as badly as you do.”

  Glacar sneered. “He didn’t kill half as many as I did.”

  “Nor did you kill as many as Ronav. Jonrell covered your back, so quit complaining,” cut in Kroke.

  What did they endure together for even a killer like him to show such compassion?

  Glacar made like he was about to argue again, but Krytien cut him off. “Glacar! Put the ax away and back off. We’re on the same side.” He felt his face flush with anger as he eyed Ronav’s body, faint gasps of breath audible with each rise and fall of his chest.

  The wild man eyed him, not saying a word.

  “You better do as he says. Get him mad enough and he’ll end you before you can even tighten your grip,” said a hoarse voice.

  Glacar turned away. “Whatever you say, Ronav.”

  Krytien paid him little mind and rushed to his friend’s side. He looked pale and fevered. Makeshift bandages covered both arms and another wrapped his torso. Krytien undressed the wound at his side first, removing the blood soaked bandages.

  “How bad is it?” asked Ronav.

  “Not good. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’m surprised you’re even alive. Any of you, for that matter.” He paused. “Jonrell said you saved everyone half a dozen times by yourself.”

  A small grin crept across Ronav’s face and he whispered. “You should have seen me, Krytien. I hadn’t fought like that in years. And I did it all without sorcery.”

  Still it bothers him. “So you did.”

  Ronav made sure everyone else was out of earshot, then whispered. “It must have just been a bad day with Glacar is all.”

  Krytien knew it was more than that, but he lied anyway. “Must have been. Now, be still.”

  Ronav tilted his head toward Glacar and Kroke. “They did me proud. There’s no reason that four men should have made it out alive, but we did. And Jonrell directed the entire escape while he hacked away alongside us.” He eyed Krytien. “You’re going to be surprised by him. He’ll end up a better commander than I ever was. It comes naturally to him.”

  No one will be better than you, Ronav.

  Krytien worked in silence, cleaning and redressing wounds. He called Raker over to help while he performed the few healing spells he knew. After some time, Krytien climbed to his feet, joints stiff and limbs screaming with fatigue.

  “Well?” asked Ronav. A bit of the color had returned to his face, but he was still a poor reflection of himself.

  “You’ll live. For now, at least. One Above knows what will come of us tomorrow when we reach Asantia.”

  Ronav tried to sit up, and Krytien quickly leaned down to steady him as he and Raker moved him up against the back of a tree trunk. His forehead shone with sweat despite the cool night air. Ronav leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes. “I still feel so weak.”

  “And you look like crap, too,” said Raker.

  Krytien turned and scowled.

  “What?” asked Raker.

  Krytien sighed and turned back to Ronav. “You shouldn’t be conscious.”

  “Conscious isn’t good enough. I need to be able to fight.”

  The mage shrugged. “That’s the best I can do. You’ll just have to rely on others for once.”

  Ronav opened his eyes. “No. There is one other thing I know you haven’t tried.”

  Krytien broke out into a cold sweat. “No.”

  “It’s the only way. We’ll need every man once we reach Asantia.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Raker asked the mage.

  “It’s nothing.”

  Ronav coughed. “Healing might not be Krytien’s strong point, but he knows a few spells that could help someone looking death in the eye.”

  “You’ve stabilized,” Krytien hissed. “You’re going to live.”

  “Through the night. But what about tomorrow? I’m asking you as a friend to do this.”

  “No, that’s exactly why I can’t. It’s too risky and the pain. . . .” The mage’s voice trailed off.

  “Then as your commander, I’m ordering you to do it.” Ronav’s voice hardened. “Now get to it.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back. “Sooner rather than later.”

  Krytien swore. “Fine. Raker, tie up his hands and sit on his legs.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Just do it,” Krytien snapped.

  Raker kept any more comments to himself and did as instructed.

  Krytien slowly drew in the power necessary to perform the art, recalling the horrid details of the spell. He would have to move healthy muscle and tissue from one part of Ronav’s body to another in order to heal his current injuries. The failure rate of such a spell far exceeded its success. After examining Ronav’s body for the best places to pull from, he began.

  His friend screamed with such agony it brought tears to Krytien’s eyes.

  Chapter 8

  With the sun high overhead, Jonrell plodded
along. An hour earlier, just as the faint outline of Asantia came into view, the Hell Patrol left the main road, narrowly missing a small patrol from Hezen’s army galloping toward the city. There was little doubt in Jonrell’s mind the riders were out to give warning of the Hell Patrol’s arrival. Ronav ignored the riders, worried they might give away their location to Hezen’s trailing forces.

  Ronav swayed in the saddle with head down and shoulders hunched. Though Krytien had somehow healed Ronav’s wounds, the side effect of such sorcery left Ronav noticeably thinner. Jonrell did not witness the event, but Raker later told him all the details, wide-eyed and wishing he had a bottle of whiskey.

  Jonrell tried to look in on his commander, but Ronav dismissed his concerns by saying he just needed sleep. Jonrell knew Ronav would never admit he wasn’t fully himself, so he let the matter drop and prayed to the One Above that all would work out.

  With so much that needs working out, “all” is a lot to ask.

  He suppressed a laugh. Sharing his mount, Yanasi caught the quick heave of his chest and looked up at him. He smiled for her and she returned the gesture through weary eyes before facing forward again.

  Ronav is right, the girl needs to be in a more stable home. She won’t like it though. She wouldn’t talk to me for days after I mentioned it the first time. Not until she thought I was dead. He exhaled slowly. Now I have to find her a home while we do our best not to get killed.

  Asantia was one of a handful of ancient cities in Thurum that had weathered the aftermath of the great earthquake. Old domed structures and flying spires peaked through cracks in the forest’s canopy of thick pines and giant redwoods as the party went further from the main road and approached the city through the surrounding woods.

  Bells rang in the large tower at the city’s center. It was said the bells rang for weeks in celebration after Aurnon the First brought Thurum under one banner, and even longer in mourning when Aurnon the Second turned his back on the land.

  Does it ring now for the death of Effren or the rule of Hezen?