Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  Phaesys’ ears twitched and turned, following Feanne as she moved, though he kept his eyes on the ground and his sword several inches from his fingers.

  As her mother spoke, Oria got up off of her stomach and sat down, wondering if she would need to hide Phaesys’ body before the day was done. On some level, she thought he might deserve it after attacking her twice, no matter his intentions.

  “I would be remiss to execute the first of our kind I have seen in these lands without some thought first,” Feanne continued, flicking Phaesys’ oversized ear with her claw. “Even if you do look the fool.”

  Feanne stopped just behind Phaesys, lifting her head to look over at Oria. She lowered one hand near Phaesys’ neck where Oria guessed he could not see it. “Oria, you brought this imbecile here. Does he live or die?”

  Oria’s skin prickled with dismay and shock. She had never been put in such a position before, by her mother or anyone else. As much as she wanted to strike at Phaesys, possibly even hurt him, she had no desire to see the male bleed out on the sands in front of her on her order.

  “Mother?”

  Feanne brought her claws down lower near Phaesys’ neck and Oria saw his ears perk. Still, he kept his hands away from his weapon.

  “You wish to lead a pack one day, my daughter,” Feanne stated, now resting her claws firmly on Phaesys’ jugular. “You decide if they live or die. That is what you must do every day, even for your own family. If you cannot make that decision, someone else will make it for you.”

  Phaesys kept his head down, but looked up from the sands at Oria. There was no anger, no fear. He just waited to see what she would do.

  “Let him go, mother. He yielded to you. You told me we don’t kill our own kind without reason. A submissive wildling is not a threat.”

  Feanne gave a click of her tongue, shaking her head. “Any wildling is a threat in the right conditions. Big Ears…how fast could you strike at me with that sword if you wished?”

  “I doubt many could stop me before I had cut you down,” admitted Phaesys. He moved his hands farther from the hilt of his sword.

  “Mother…”

  “Oria, what would you do if I were one of your pack members and I disobeyed?” Feanne asked, tapping a claw on Phaesys’ throat. “You disobey me regularly enough, so I must assume others will disobey you. If I decide to tear his throat out—which I have every right to do, after what he did here today—what action would you take?”

  “I would try to stop you.”

  That drew looks from both Feanne and Phaesys.

  “Your life is spared,” Feanne said, lowering her mouth near Phaesys’ ear. “Thank my daughter. I am not in nearly so merciful a mood.”

  Turning from Oria and Phaesys, Feanne marched back into the den, disappearing from sight. Faintly, Oria could hear her talking to someone—likely Atall or the kits.

  “Is she always like this?” asked Phaesys after several minutes of silence. He still had not moved, other than to raise his head. From where Oria sat, she could see his limbs trembling.

  “Not always,” Oria said as she got up, though she wondered if she were perhaps lying just a little. “We lost my father recently. You gave her an excuse to fight, which she has dearly wanted for some time. It makes her feel better when she’s upset.”

  Phaesys touched his neck gently, as if he were not sure that he were unharmed. “I am sorry for angering her.”

  Walking over to the desert fox, Oria knelt beside him and shoved his head to one side so she could see his neck better. Tiny pinpricks of blood marred his pale fur right where the yellow-tan met white.

  “That wasn’t her angry,” admitted Oria, placing Phaesys’ sword into his hand. “That was her playing with her food and proving a point to both of us. If she was angry, I would have been in danger, too.”

  That statement made Phaesys’ eyes widen more than his near brush with death.

  “What now?” he asked, checking over his shoulder at the den where Feanne had gone. “I really just wanted to bring your family back to a safer place…”

  “Now?” Oria offered him her hand and pulled him to his feet. “Now you make amends and explain yourself to all of us. Completely. No ambushes or weapons. Just talk.”

  Phaesys nodded and sheathed his sword. “This I promise, if you will answer one question for me before we speak with her.”

  “Ask.”

  Phaesys appeared to struggle with the question, but finally blurted out, “How did he die? Your father.”

  Oria contemplated telling him the truth, or as much of it as she had guessed. Instead, she studied the nervousness in his posturing, the slight shake of his hands, and the sag in his tail. The male was terrified after his brief encounter with Feanne.

  “Mother killed and ate him,” Oria said instead, smiling as sweetly as she could manage. The panicked widening of Phaesys’ eyes was more than sufficient revenge for having kidnapped her earlier. “Please come in and have dinner with us. You can explain this whole thing before we eat. You do eat meat, right?”

  When Phaesys made no attempt to move, Oria grabbed his wrist and pulled him along behind her down the slope into the narrow entrance to the den.

  They descended into the dimly-lit den, with Oria in the lead. At the bottom of the sloped entryway, Atall stood to one side, glowering equally at her and Phaesys. The effect of his glare was lost the instant Oria noticed two of the kits peeking around his legs and the female clinging to Atall’s back, with her head just barely visible, her muzzle sitting between his ears.

  Farther back, on the far side of the tiny pit they used for cooking meals, Feanne had removed her cloak and was sitting on it cross-legged, watching the newcomers approach.

  “I must say, I am impressed that you are still here,” Feanne told Phaesys, as she smoothed her leather clothing. “Most males would have run after watching their men be beaten soundly. I am not sure that decision is in your best interest.”

  Oria took a seat near her mother, while Atall sat down across from her, still scowling, with the kits scurrying behind him to keep an “adult” between themselves and the stranger.

  Phaesys stood for a while, as though unsure what to do that would not get him killed. Oria eventually grew tired of watching him stand uneasily and she pulled him down to sit across from her mother.

  Lifting a cup of cold water with tea leaves, Feanne made no effort to look in Phaesys’ direction despite addressing him. “My children do not like watching me kill people without a good reason. You gave me more than enough reason, but my daughter seemed willing to spare you long enough that you can explain yourself. Please start talking, so that I can convince myself it was worth letting you continue breathing.”

  Oria watched Phaesys, but he kept his eyes on the cold coals of the fire pit. When she looked back to her mother, Feanne was slowly letting her attention drift between Oria and Phaesys, as though looking for something she could not quite place.

  “Are you sleeping with my daughter?” asked Feanne, direct as always. “Given her frequent disappearances, I must ask. You should know that Oria is not old enough for that to be appropriate, if that is the case.”

  “I…mom!” Oria blurted without thinking. “He kidnapped me! We’re not…what’s wrong with you, mom?”

  Feanne ignored Oria completely, her attention now locked on Phaesys.

  “No, matron,” he answered softly, still watching the fire pit. “I would not do such a thing, even before knowing how...powerful…you are. I already am betrothed, so it would be entirely inappropriate to ever consider such a thing.”

  Oria nodded sharply at her mother, adding, “See? Wait…you wouldn’t? Didn’t bed me is fine…but wouldn’t? What’s wrong with me?”

  Both Atall and Phaesys stared at her in shock, but Oria found herself unable to keep her mouth closed.

  “If you’re going to kidnap a female, at least have the decency to say she’s worth taking as a mate. I’d have beaten you to death if you tried, but you
could at least act like I’m someone you’d…”

  “Oria, shut up now,” Feanne told her, cutting through her rant. “This is not about you.”

  “But mom…”

  Feanne ignored Oria’s protests, focusing on Phaesys. “Kidnapped…this is certainly a new situation. My daughter has gotten herself in many forms of trouble over the years, but bringing home her kidnapper and his angry mob may be a new low.”

  Oria squirmed and rubbed at one of her ears self-consciously. “She’s right. I don’t think I’ve done that before.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, until Atall spoke up, with his little sister still watching from his shoulder. “She could have gotten us all hurt or killed and she’s not even in trouble?”

  “Oh, she is,” Feanne assured him as though Oria was not there. “Trust me, she is.”

  Oria lowered her head instinctively, even though she knew it probably looked like she was pouting.

  “You asked why I came out here,” Phaesys began, saving Oria from her mother. Whether he meant to or not, Oria felt like she owed him for that intrusion. “I came out here to be sure you were not agents of the city, hunting for the survivors.”

  “Survivors?” Feanne’s eyes narrowed. “Of the mists?”

  Phaesys shrugged. “The mists were what broke the city and let the undead walk in. We could not stand before them when they came. Since I did not know your daughter, I had to assume she came from the city. When I smelled the city on you, I believed you were recently from there.”

  Feanne’s snarl silenced the room and made all three kits dive for cover behind Atall.

  “Undead?!” she roared. “Corraith never fell. I have been told this repeatedly over the last few months. I have seen the living in the city. Never have I heard of the undead leaving a city alive.”

  “They were not interested in turning us,” Phaesys admitted, watching the kits peeking out from under a blanket in an obvious attempt to keep from looking Feanne in the eye. “The force marched in and took over. They killed off our remaining leaders and ordered us all to pledge ourselves to them. Those who refused were killed in the streets…or fled with my family to the old tombs.”

  “How many are down there?” Oria found herself asking.

  “A hundred and fifty. Most are wounded, young, or elderly though. The group that came with me to secure this area were loyal to me, even if they were not the best of our warriors.”

  “You claim they are loyal, but they disobeyed your order to cease the attack,” Feanne pointed out, tilting her cup toward Phaesys. “Loyal soldiers would have dropped their weapons on the spot.”

  “Not as loyal as I wish,” admitted Phaesys, shoulders sinking slightly. “I was not allowed to fight in defense of Corraith when it was taken, so many of the men question my resolve when situations become difficult.”

  Feanne leaned forward, pointing a finger at Phaesys. “You will tell me everything you know about the undead in the city.”

  Phaesys’ ears drooped and he shook his head. “I know almost nothing, matron. I fled under orders when the mists came. When the undead arrived, I was hiding like a coward, even if it was not my choice. I would like to blame my age, but it is no excuse.”

  “Then who can tell me what I need to know?”

  “My father,” replied Phaesys. “He can tell you far more.”

  “Then you will lead us back there to talk with him,” Feanne stated, then laid back on her blankets. As if appearing from the dark, the three kits pounced her, settling into the crook of her arm. “We will stay here for now and set off tomorrow. You are welcome to stay with us today, or return to your tunnels. Either way, come tomorrow, I would speak with your father.”

  Rolling onto her side away from the group to shield the kits from the rest of the den, Feanne appeared to go to sleep. She flicked her tail over to cover the young like a fluffy blanket, remaining still as though dismissing everyone else in the room.

  “I should probably go,” Phaesys said softly, his whiskers twitching. “It would be inappropriate for me to stay.”

  “What’s inappropriate about sleeping here for today?” asked Oria, watching Phaesys in confusion as he stood up to go.

  “Surely your mother would be upset at the idea of a man sleeping in such a small place with her daughter,” he explained, then took a step back as Atall made a point of getting to his feet between Oria and Phaesys.

  “She wouldn’t, but I would,” Atall told the taller male. “You’re right, you should leave.”

  “Atall, stop being rude,” snapped Oria, her ears getting hot. Her brother was really asking for a sound thumping if he kept up with whatever his issue was. “Mother said he could stay…”

  “I’m just agreeing with him that he should leave,” noted Atall, taking another step toward Phaesys, forcing Phaesys to step back to keep from bumping into Atall. “Nothing rude about agreeing.”

  Oria jumped up and shoved Atall, but he held his ground, growling slightly.

  “Please don’t do this,” Phaesys insisted, backing out of the den. “Oria, you know where to find me when your mother is ready to talk. I will go before I cause any more conflict. I need to see to my men, anyway.”

  Atall stared at Oria, as though daring her to try something as he answered, “We could do with less conflict around here. Especially with all the kidnappings that happen in this area. Isn’t that right, Oria?”

  Phaesys turned and hurried from the den.

  “I will beat your nose flat for that, Atall.”

  “Why? He attacked you. You said so yourself. Just because mother isn’t chasing him off doesn’t mean he belongs here. Give me a reason I should ever want to see him again.”

  “He…I don’t know…he’s the first wildling we’ve met here. He can tell us a lot about the area.”

  “So can humans. Or elves.”

  “I think you hate your own kind, Atall. Maybe you just don’t like other wildlings.”

  “I like my family just fine. I just don’t like him.”

  “Why? Besides kidnapping me, which is over now.”

  “He looked at you.”

  “So?”

  “Oria, we don’t know him. And he has big ears.”

  “Seriously? You’re telling me I can’t spend time around a male you haven’t approved?”

  “Pretty much. Estin isn’t here to protect you from yourself, so someone has to.”

  “You’re an idiot, Atall. I don’t want to bed him, I just want a friend that we don’t have to kill. Is that so wrong for me to look for someone outside my family to spend time with? We don’t have the pack anymore, so I don’t have a lot of choices.”

  Atall shrugged and sat down on the pile of blankets that he used as his bedding. With a snort, he flipped to turn his back to Oria.

  “Fine!” she snapped, pacing in a circle, for lack of any good room to walk in the den. “Maybe I should mate with him just to teach you that I can do what I want.”

  “If you did, mother would kill you both,” Atall answered.

  A faint chuckle let Oria know that Feanne was awake and listening.

  “Besides,” Atall continued, “he said he has a betrothed. He’ll turn you down.”

  “I don’t even know what that is, Atall.”

  Her brother shifted just enough that he could look over his shoulder at her. Oria swore that the anger in his face had faded to amusement.

  “Yoska told me about a lot of different peoples’ mating traditions…even when I told him to stop. In fact, a lot more after I told him to stop. A betrothed among the desert people is a life-mate that was pledged to someone when they were a child. Phaesys probably never even met her.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Yep.”

  “What if he hates her? Or she’s ugly? Or she can’t fight?”

  “Sounds like wildlings out here follow the elven traditions, not ours,” Atall said as he rolled back onto his side. “Stupid or not, he’s not like us. He’s more of
a human or an elf than a wildling. Just another reason I’ll chase him off.”

  Bewildered, Oria could find nothing to say. Instead of railing at her brother, she walked up and out of the den.

  Outside, the heat of the day was intense already, making Oria’s fur tingle. She ignored it, walking a little ways away from the hole to a shadowed area, where she flopped onto the sand. Digging her toes into the warm sand, she growled and punched at the ground, wishing it was her brother.

  “I wish Estin were here,” she said aloud, kicking a wave of sand away from her. “He would be able to tell me how to deal with Atall, without having to kill him.”

  Chapter Five

  “The Master”

  A great many hopes and dreams fill our lives from the moment we can think for ourselves, ‘til the moment death embraces us. I had mine and have written of them until I thought my children would be sick of hearing my voice in their heads as they read. It gives me solace in my darker times and helps me reflect on how I wish to move forward for the betterment of my family.

  As often as I explain to whoever finds these scribbles what I did, I find I rarely explain why. It’s a failing in the way I view things. After all, I know why I did them. Like most, I followed my hopes and dreams to decisions that weren’t always the brightest.

  My dreams were simple for so long. Survival and food were my dearest wish. That lasted me through childhood and into that strange ambiguous part of my life when I was certainly an adult, even though I didn’t think like one at the time. For me, I believe this phase lasted from about age three to six and I dearly hope my children grow out of it far faster than I did, or my mate may kill them.

  If you’re reading this, Oria and Atall, please take it to heart.

  Then came friendship and the warm embrace of Lihuan’s pack. I really just wanted the company, but they forced me to find a place in their society, making me a far better person for it. It was a nice change to feel needed and a part of something greater than myself. That was short-lived, before I knew that there was something that my life required that was outside of myself and my needs of survival. I had always needed it, but hadn’t known until it blindsided me.