by Jada Fisher
Lying in the corner, a piece of a beam lodged in her gut, was her mother.
A panicked squeal escaped Tuni, the type an animal would make when it knew it was about to die. Because that was what this felt like. Her life was over. The life she’d known was gone, never to be the same again.
“Mom…” she wheezed.
Her mother was still alive, but only just. Her gray tunic was soaked with blood, now more black than gray. Blood pooled beneath her, and her gaze was woozy as she tried to stare at her daughter.
“Tu-Tuni?” she managed to say, though it was obvious that every little thing, even breathing, was an agonizing chore.
“I’m here, Mom,” Tuni said through tears as she collapsed at her mother’s side. “I’m here.” Her hands hovered over the wound, but the beam was all the way through and wider than her hands. It was a miracle her mother was even still alive, and gods only knew how much longer she had.
Somehow, her mother smiled weakly. “Thank…thank g-goodness you’re…you’re safe.”
Of course, the first thing her mother said was about Tuni’s safety. That just made her feel even worse.
She choked on a sob. “I should’ve been here. I shouldn’t have run away.”
Her mother shook her head, if only barely. “Shh, shh, d-don’t say that.”
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” Tuni croaked, each word hitching, each word a wheeze that made her chest ache.
“N-no, I’m s-sorry, my girl… I… I…was t-too hard on you.”
Tuni shook her head violently, barely able to see her mother through the tears. “No, you were just trying to protect me. I should have listened to you more, done what I was told.”
Her mother managed a warm smile, though even that simple act made her wince. “If— If you’d listened to me, y-y-you may have been here. And… And you’d be…you’d be dead too.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe she was wrong. Either way, it didn’t change the reality of the situation before Tuni Teal-Eye. Her family, dead. Her friends, dead. Everyone she’d ever known, dead. Her home, destroyed.
Her heart was a mess of pain. She groaned and put her head to her mom’s chest, not caring for the blood that soon covered her hair and face. She sobbed. Eyes pinched shut.
“Please don’t leave me,” she wheezed. “I’m sorry, Mom, don’t go!”
A cold hand slick with warm blood touched her cheek. She opened her eyes. Her mother stared back at her. For just a moment, she was the fierce and strong woman that had raised her. If only Tuni could have been more like her.
“You are…so strong, and s-so, so brave, my girl. I need you… I need you to be. Y-you… You need to get out of here. Survive. Live.”
“But, but I— I—”
“Do this f-for me. Promise me. P-please.”
With nothing else to do, Tuni nodded.
Her mother sighed, her gaze looking past Tuni. “I…l-love you, Tuni.”
Then her eyes became empty. Tuni grabbed her mother’s tunic. “No, no, no, no. Please, Mom, not yet!” But it was too late. She was gone. Her mother was dead. Her sister was dead. And she was alone.
Her cries weren’t as violent as they were for her sister, but that was because she didn’t have the strength anymore. She cried, silent, her shoulders rocking.
“I love you,” she whispered back, then her voice broke and she sobbed.
Her mind and heart were in turmoil. She didn’t know what to do. She had no answers. If we’d just magically teleported here, maybe the sage could have stopped this from happening. That line of thinking, that level of blame for all this death, wasn’t healthy, she knew. But it was all Tuni could think of.
The ground shook again. The demon roared. More death. More destruction.
Tuni stood wordlessly and walked out of the remains of her home.
Everything in her hurt. This is what a broken heart feels like, huh? she thought somberly. One foot after another she trudged forward, but she wasn’t really present. Her mind was adrift in a swirling sea of sorrow. She kept walking, numb to everything around her, numb to the dust in the air and the moans of the dying and the crumbling of the buildings.
Her feet brought her to the heart of the town, to the broken square. Ahead of her, on the western edge of town, the demon raged. She saw red. Rage consumed her. With a roar as chilling as the demon’s, she charged the beast. Was it stupid, idiotic, suicidal? Probably, but she didn’t care. She had to make it hurt, make it pay.
With a shrug, she whipped her bow around from her shoulder and loosed an arrow with little effort. The first one hit the demon in the arm. It did nothing but get the monster’s attention. Its glowing white eyes locked onto her.
Its smile grew wide, and a black tongue shot out and licked the teeth.
That didn’t dissuade her. She was blinded by rage and sorrow. She loosed another arrow, and another, and another. One in the arm, two in the chest, one in the neck. It did nothing to the demon. Not even hurt it. Still, she fought back. She had to fight back. She would not run. She would not cower.
She’d run her entire life—from her responsibilities and her family, always trying to find some sort of escape. She thought she’d found it with the sage, but it just caused all this death. So no, Tuni would not run anymore.
Even if it killed her.
Arrow after arrow she launched, until the monster was on the other side of the square standing amid the rubble of the bakery only a few paces away. She was out of arrows. That was it. But she kept running at it like a madman.
The demon regarded her like she was a bug skittering at its feet. It wound up its massive arm, ready to smack. Ready to end her. Tuni cursed.
Its arm came down in a violent arch. She wouldn’t be able to avoid it. She was foolish. This was what her mother didn’t want her to do. She told her to survive, and Tuni had immediately thrown that away. Even after death, I am failing her.
She expected the hit, the bone-crushing force of its hand against her frail body.
But then Gayla was there to her left, running through the rubble, staff up and glowing. She yelled a spell and suddenly, there was a translucent blue barrier in front of Tuni. Right in time to take the brunt of the demon’s attack.
The brunt, but not all of it. The shock of the collision sent her flying. The breath left her body, and she slammed into a pile of rubble.
Everything went black.
Tuni came to. Her head pounded. She sat up in a daze and found that she wasn’t in her village anymore. She sat in the ruined fields outside the small walls of the village. It was quiet. The demon was gone. Nearby, Gayla sat, dried blood caked in her hair and staining the side of her face. She was drenched in sweat and her skin was covered in dirt. She sat on her rear and hugged her knees to her chest, her hat and staff beside her.
“What— What happened?” Tuni asked.
Gayla glanced her way. “I defeated the demon. Then I buried everyone that I could find. I couldn’t find any survivors.”
“Oh.”
Tuni remembered what happened before she was knocked out. Her mom and sister, her friends, all dead. Her home was gone, and she had nothing else.
She had no tears left, though. She just felt numb all over. Sadness, anger… There was nothing but a deep dread that filled her from the depths of her heart and spread throughout her body. Slumping against the ground beside her friend, Tuni sighed.
The sage looked at her. “I have no words that can comfort you. What has happened is…unspeakable.”
Tuni said nothing to that.
“Do you have any other family, relatives living elsewhere?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Gayla put her face into her knees and huffed. If her injuries bothered her, she didn’t let on, but clearly, the situation conflicted her greatly. A good quality to have from a Sage of the Earth—an eternal affection for all living things.
It was several minutes of painful silence before the sage offered up something new. She got to her feet and sto
od before Tuni, hands on her staff. “I have little to give you in ways of comfort or relief, but I can give you a choice.”
A lone, stubborn tear came down Tuni’s cheek. She let it fall. “A choice?”
“I can take you wherever you want to go, and you can start a new life. Safe. Or you can stay out here, alone, with your sorrow, and it will probably kill you.”
“Those sound like bad choices,” said Tuni with a frown, her voice catching as some emotions bubbled forth.
“There is one more choice, child.” Gayla’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. “You can come back with me, and help me and Shandi protect this earth, and help prevent tragedies like this from happening.”
Tears came in earnest as the village girl’s chest heaved with a deep pain. It made her groan as she buried her face against her knees. “But it’s— It’s so hard…”
Gayla crouched before her and put a hand on Tuni’s cheek. Her touch was soft, gentle, warm. She wiped the tears from her cheek.
“It will be hard, and we won’t always be able to save everyone. There will still be pain, but you are so strong, so brave, so smart. You can do so much good. Please, help me protect this world.”
The choice was easy. Tuni wanted to help. Staying there to sulk wasn’t an option at all, and starting anew in Al-Sevara, alone, with no knowledge of the city and its culture? That wasn’t an option either. No, she would stay with the sage, she would learn, and she would help make the world a better place. It would hurt, but maybe the good she’d do would help alleviate the pain.
Gods knew that her mother would be proud of her.
So, Tuni nodded, wiped her eyes, and said, “I will help you, Madam Sage.”
Gayla smiled and patted her cheek. “Excellent.” She stood and extended her hand to Tuni. The orphaned village girl took it. Gayla started muttering the spell that would transport them back to her home. Tuni supposed that it was her home now too. She looked back at the remains of the village. At the smoke and rubble. Rows of graves with flower-covered markers sat in the fields outside the walls, courtesy of the sage. At least… At least they were all put to rest with respect.
“Ready?” Gayla asked, extending her hand, the other holding the staff aloft as wind whipped around them.
With a gulp, Tuni took her hand. “Yes.” Then, lips pursed, the sage slammed her staff against the ground, and they were taken by the wind. Tuni was off to begin her new life, being born from the broken bones and scattered ashes of the other.
All she could hope for was that this one would end a lot better.
16
Bishta
Bishta stood on the shore of the Forgotten Continent, her toes digging into the cool, gray sand as the dark, roiling waters of the Eternal Sea crashed against the shore. Occasionally, the water would reach her where she stood on the beach, licking at her ankles and getting the hem of her skirt wet. It was ice cold, but it didn’t bother her, because her blood was boiling.
It boiled and boiled with demonic energy and kept her as warm as she’d felt in the Valley of Fire.
As she stared out over the dark waters that stretched past the horizon where dark clouds swirled, lightning striking on occasion, she could feel her demons out there, pulsing as they traveled the world in search of their prey. Each one carrying her blood, carrying her magic, as if they were her children out there.
And she felt when they were defeated.
The first came when a wave crashed into the shore. Her heart stopped for a second and she lost her breath. Bishta crumbled to the sand as the water rushed in and surged around her, soaking her arms and legs. She sucked in air, gasping, grimacing, as she tried to stand and get her wits about her. It was like a piece of her soul had been snuffed out, a wisp disappearing in the wind.
She knew that some of the demons would fail. These were sages they were going up against. These were the greatest bastions of knowledge, magic, and power in the whole world. They wouldn’t go down easily. Bishta just hadn’t expected to feel this awful about it.
The second came an hour later, just after she’d recovered from the first. The sage collapsed into the sand, the wet grains getting in her hair and all over her face. She shivered. Pushed herself to her feet, gasped. Growled. Why does it feel like this?
Bishta left the desolate beach once she’d recovered. It had been two weeks since she’d summoned the demons and sent them on their dark quests. She’d tried to stay strong, but the ritual had really drained her, which wasn’t surprising. Summoning supremely powerful demons took a lot of magic and as much willpower to control. A normal person could never have dreamed of doing it.
Of course, a regular human couldn’t wield magic, so the point was moot.
Now that her demons were falling, it was time for her to leave this forsaken, forgotten land. She’d be happy to leave such a desolate place. There were little lizards that burrowed in the sand and dirt throughout the continent that she was able to catch with some magic and cook. Not much else. Not much in ways of vegetation. Not a lot of clean water. She’d had to filter sea water.
A miserable two weeks, but she’d feared she was too weak to go through the portal. A part of her was just tired, however, and just wanted to rest, away from any form of responsibility. Now that her demons were dropping, though, she couldn’t hold off any longer.
Miles and miles, she went, hiking barefoot, shivering and tired and hungry, until the ancient black rock ruins loomed in the mountains ahead. Bishta smiled when she saw it. Soon she’d go through the portal within and be gone from this place. The Forgotten Continent was too cold and lifeless for her liking.
The third demon died when she was maybe a few miles from the rocky slopes of the shallow mountains.
Bishta cried out and fell to her knees. Her staff clattered against the ground as her arms shook, tears welling up in her eyes. She seethed. I hate this! She hated feeling so weak and vulnerable. There was nothing around, no danger near to take advantage of her in this state, but nonetheless, it wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. When the ritual had been performed, she’d accepted the risks. That didn’t mean she had to like the repercussions.
It took another hour for her to recover. This time, she was even weaker, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She was shivering and hungry and her feet ached, but she had to get through that portal.
The climb through the black mountains was agonizing. Her hands and feet blistered and ached as she climbed, until she couldn’t any longer. Under normal circumstances, she would have used some spells to help her, but she feared she was much too drained for that. Any magic at all would have left her immobile. No, for this last bit, she would need to get by on sheer strength and willpower.
The portal would then be a trial all on its own, but Bishta had to overcome it.
She almost cried when she climbed over a steep lip of rock and saw the first row of crumbling black obelisks. They were ancient, as old as this land, and no memories within her vast sage wisdom could tell her what they were or who built them. Much like the ruins at the Fields of Despair. Perhaps the Great Library held some answers, but for now, it was unimportant.
Strolling amidst the crumbling structures, she brushed a hand over one of the obelisks. The stone was rough and warm, like volcanic rock, but it had been shaped and fashioned in a way that regular volcanic rock could not be. Impressive work, adding to the mystery.
The columns ended at an archway and two statues carved into the mountain. They were humanoid in shape, but they were so weathered that Bishta couldn’t make out any details. No matter. The arch and the statues surrounded the mouth of the cave. Within, she could feel the portal, pulling at her gut and beckoning for her to go deeper.
The sage went down and down, through twisting narrow passages, dry as a desert, the air musty and stale on her tongue. This cave was different than the one in the Land of Scales. This one had runes carved into the walls—the language of the old gods. She could read some of it, but not enough to understand why it was carved
into the stone.
When she reached the bottom of the cave, the tunnel gave way to the large portal, looking much the same as the other. With a gulp, she crossed the room and stood in front of the dormant gateway.
As she stood before the portal, her body suddenly convulsed again. She was being crushed, as if being squeezed by a giant hand intent on wringing out every last ounce of her life. She dropped to her hands and knees, fighting to stay conscious.
This wave passed faster than the previous. Maybe she was getting used to the feeling of her demons being defeated. A bitter pill to swallow, in any case.
She had known that killing them all was a tall task. This was just the first effort, the first step. Bishta had hoped that at least one would fall in her first attack, but no matter. She had more in store. Much more.
She had a plan to cut the lines of the sages permanently, but it would be difficult. Very, very difficult.
One step at a time, Bishta thought, centering herself.
Forcing a grim smile, she activated the portal. It hummed to life and glowed with blue and purple light in the darkness of the cave. No telling where it would take her, but it hardly mattered. There was no turning back now.
Find out what happens next in Realms of the Dead.
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THANK YOU
Thank you so much for reading The Spirit Wilds. It’s been a pretty intense story so far, hasn’t it. Our new heroes have thwarted Bishta’s first attempt to kill the sages, but she definitely has more in store. The Black Sage just might regret getting Tuni and Dorrick involved, though. One thing is certain, this story is far from over.
The next story in the Fall of the Sages series is called Realms of the Dead and we get a peek at some of the consequences of Bishta ignoring her sagely duties. All I will say is that it isn’t good. For anyone.
Order Realms of the Dead here: