Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  “Please don’t,” Estin asked her, shoving away her hand.

  “If you two are done not doing anything, there was a reason I needed you awake, Estin,” Sirella told him as she strapped her sword back on. “We need to go.”

  Grabbing his shirt, sword, and the cloak he wore to minimize the chance of someone working for Arturis recognizing him, Estin hopped to his feet and followed Sirella past the others in the room and out the front door. As they left, he glanced back, seeing that Lorne was studying him unabashedly, before the door closed.

  “What was that all about?” he asked Sirella, once they were away from the house. Idly, Estin noticed three men from the house trailing them, doing their usual job of ensuring Sirella’s safety.

  “She’s grateful and hoping that you will stay with her,” Sirella observed, leading Estin around the back of one of the nearby buildings before entering the main street to cover their tracks from anyone following. “Give the kid a good time. She’s had it rough for a while. I’ve seen how you look at anyone in chains. Think how she’s felt. Besides, you two are cute.”

  “I’ve got a mate.”

  Sirella laughed and gave him a coy smile. “You keep telling me that, but I don’t see her around. I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

  “You wouldn’t have to. Even if she never found out, I could never forgive myself…if she did find out, I wouldn’t live through the rest of the day. Now, can you please tell me why we’re out here?”

  Sirella held a finger to her lips and led him farther out into the streets. Though they would be busy soon, it was still early enough that only a handful of people could be seen, mostly setting up their carts for when shoppers would appear.

  “My spies came back from the camp,” she said, once they had reached an area where the bustle of the shopkeepers was loud enough to cover their conversation. “Arturis got most of the camp, including a good number of the slaves.”

  “We failed.”

  Estin felt ill, thinking over all the faces he had seen back at the village. Any other time, faces—especially humans and elves with their lack of fur patterns—blurred and were forgotten in favor of scents. When Estin felt guilty as he did then, it was astounding how many of those faces could come to mind immediately.

  “No, Estin, if we hadn’t gotten involved, every one of them would have been lost. We forced him to act quickly and that cost him at least a hundred more corpses. Maybe more than that. It’s something.”

  Estin shook his head, trying to see how this news was even remotely good. Yes, they had saved a hundred people by making Arturis spring the trap early, but at least that many had still fallen to him and now were his loyal servants.

  “Give me a reason to keep fighting,” Estin asked Sirella, surprising himself a little. Her curious look said she likely was just as surprised. “I should be out searching for my family now that the kits are old enough to run, not trying to help you with your fifty-man struggle against an army. This is not my battle and not a good way to stay alive.”

  Stopping them both, Sirella turned Estin so that she could stare him in the eyes.

  “Go looking for your wife…mate,” she told him, her dark eyes showing him the first hint of sympathy he could remember. “I doubt you’ll live the week with Arturis sending critters after you, but if that’s what you need, please do it.

  “Me, I’ll keep fighting to save others from having to be murdered by the corpses of their own family. I don’t care if I’m the last woman in Corraith who isn’t either ignoring the problem or outright serving Arturis. You may not think you mean anything here, but watching how you never give up on your family has given me some direction. It was something I dearly needed.”

  Estin pulled his shoulder out of her grip and studied the woman. He could see a determination in her that felt no different than his own desire to find his family. He did not doubt for a second that Sirella would die fighting to free the very town she once stolen from.

  “I need time to look,” he admitted. “I need to do this, Sirella, but what you’re doing is no less important. I know we keep looking as we work, but it’s not the same. If I cannot find them, I promise, I will come back. If I can find others to help, I’ll bring them, too.”

  “Then I hope I live long enough to see you return with your kin,” Sirella told him, shoving past him and heading back up the street and disappearing around a corner. Seconds later, the men that had been following them vanished as well.

  Estin stood there a long time, wondering if he had done the right thing. Since entering Corraith, Sirella and her people were the only ones who he had spent any time with, and though he still had issues with their dedication to half-hearted attacks on the lord of the town, he did respect them for trying. Moreover, he had to question whether leaving the healing circle behind with them was his best choice. Then again, it was probably safer with anyone besides him, given Arturis’ wishes with regards to Estin’s future.

  Finally, he set off toward the eastern gates, tightening his sword belt as he went. The balance of only carrying one weapon bothered him, but he had to manage with what he had, which was almost nothing.

  Three months, he noted. That was about how long he had been away from Feanne, and it seemed like a lifetime. It was like living without a piece of yourself. Possibly not an arm or a leg…more like a goodly part of his soul.

  Every day, Estin had found an excuse to go walking alone—not that he was ignorant to the scouts Sirella sent to follow him—searching for any clue as to where Feanne and the kits had gone. It was difficult, being careful to avoid leaving a trail back to either Sirella or the possible hiding places of his family. Aside from Sirella, not one person in the town had seen any wildlings—local or foreign—since Arturis’ arrival, aside from those who met Estin, or had seen his family at the inn. Even Sirella had only seen one local wildling in the last year and could not even say for certain who it had been. The handful of wildlings he had spotted had always been hurrying away, either leaving the city or trying not to be seen.

  Estin doubted they were lying, given that most of the city seemed to consider him a minor lord, what with the rumors Sirella had spread far and wide.

  A faint scratching caught Estin’s sharp ears even in the noise of the streets and he glanced upward, seeing movement along the roofs of the buildings.

  A ghoul, he thought in frustration. The creatures showed up every time he left the larger group of Sirella’s people behind. He found it less than surprising that this one had waited until Sirella had left before openly pursuing him. Still, he knew the creature would likely wait until he was out of the street before striking. The undead stalkers seemed averse to exposing their presence to more than one or two people, unless under orders to do otherwise.

  Ignoring the movement above as the walking corpse continued its pursuit, Estin headed straight out to the main gates. There, he stopped and looked back at the city he was leaving, wondering if he had already spent too long looking in one place. Maybe it was time to move into the desert for good. It was always possible that Feanne had taken the kits elsewhere to protect them, maybe as far as the next city, a week or so away.

  Deep down, he had wondered if Feanne had left the city long ago, but kept hoping that she would not risk the kits. That had kept him inside Corraith, expecting to find her hidden away somewhere, possibly living just outside of town. Three months of searching told him that was extremely unlikely. He would have smelled her by this point if she had set foot inside Corraith.

  A faint scent of fox made Estin’s heart race for a second, but then it was gone on the winds. He had smelled that at least a dozen times in the last month, but it always evaded him. Estin truly believed he was wishing so hard for his family that he was imagining even their scents.

  Another likely source of the smell, he realized, was one of the old masters of the city, or their families. Sirella had told him once that one council member had been a fox wildling. It was not impossible that some of his kin might
still be hiding from Arturis within the city, much the way Estin had.

  He started to move toward the gates again, which were close enough that Estin could have thrown a rock and hit them. When Estin turned to go in that direction though, he very nearly collided with Lorne, who stood in his path, her new set of clothing making her look almost as if she belonged among the elves—though the black and white fur of her face and striped tail still made her stand out.

  “You’re not leaving me with them,” she insisted, her orange eyes narrowing. “If I must be among strangers, you are taking me with you. You are strange enough.”

  “No. Being with me is not safe, Lorne.”

  Estin tried to walk around Lorne, but her tail swept out, cutting off his path. When he attempted to walk away from her in another direction, she hooked her tail without moving her body, trapping him.

  “Why do you want me to bring you so badly?” Estin demanded, turning on her. “Do you have any idea how many people have died following me around? Go! Live your life free.”

  Lorne brought her tail back near her body and studied Estin, crossing her arms over her chest as she did.

  “I am not asking you to be my husband, or mate, or whatever word they use in the lands you are from,” she told him. “I want to be among my own people, not the furless. The closest I’ve ever been to family were the other females that I worked with as handmaidens. Still, I was practically their pet.

  “Please do not leave me with the elf woman. Sooner or later, she’ll get tired of having a seamstress living under her roof and she will put me out. Then, I’ll be no better off than I was when you found me. I’ll be back to trying to coax some fool man into letting me stay with him so that I don’t starve on the street.”

  Estin groaned and scanned the tops of the buildings for any indication that the ghoul was going to strike. Seeing nothing, he had to believe he had some time to get Lorne somewhere safer than the street.

  “You can come with me,” Estin answered after staring Lorne down. She did not falter or blink. “Just do what I say, or you could get killed.”

  With a squeal of joy, Lorne dove at him, throwing her arms around his neck. Estin reflexively tried to pull away, but that just yanked Lorne practically on top of him, her muzzle buried in his neck fur.

  “I promise not to get myself killed,” Lorne told him, without letting go.

  “Or me?”

  “You’re on your own. I’m not standing around to face walking corpses, slavers, or anyone who even looks like a threat. If you don’t run fast enough, that’s on you, Estin.”

  Peeling Lorne’s arms off of his neck, Estin tried to ignore her grin. The entire situation seemed to be a game to her, muting his concerns about being attacked and the fate of his family. Earlier in his life, that smile would have made him laugh or feel better, but now he worried that she was not ready to deal with the world they now lived in.

  A deep part of Estin’s mind nagged him, making him wonder what could have been, had he met Lorne when he was still running from every threat that came his way.

  “Can you fight?” asked Estin.

  Lorne giggled and shook her head. “Do you seriously think anyone would teach their daughter’s serving girl to use a weapon? I did not work for fools, Estin. An iron pot or a dinner knife is as close as I came to needing to defend anything more than my so-called honor.”

  “Can you use your claws? Magic? Anything?”

  Lorne just stared at him like he was an idiot.

  “How am I supposed to keep you alive if you cannot even use your claws?” Estin demanded, getting truly concerned. “I can barely keep myself alive.”

  “Then you need to get better,” Lorne told him, patting his arm. “Where are we going?”

  Estin stared at Lorne’s hand as it left his arm, examining the claws. They were thick and meant for climbing trees like his own. Whereas Feanne had always sharpened hers and Estin occasionally did as well, Lorne’s claws were dulled as though she had polished away all the edges. He doubted she could have gotten through his fur if she tried, let alone had any chance of being taught to use them as weapons.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Lorne, turning to gaze over the city that was starting to get busy. “Do you spend your mornings saving orphans, or is it straight to the freeing of slaves?”

  A quick prayer to the voices of the spirits calmed Estin considerably and he began walking toward the gates again.

  “We start by killing the creature that intends to murder us...or at least me...the moment we don’t expect it,” he called over his shoulder. “You coming?”

  Lorne stood still among the gathering crowds of elves that passed by in all directions, until Estin had nearly reached the gates. At last, with a nervous expression, she hurried to catch up.

  “That was a joke, right?” she asked in a hushed whisper, falling in at his side. “The elf girl should do the killing. She has burly shoulders and is very manish. We should not be fighting. I certainly should not be fighting. Maybe we can hire someone? You have money, right?”

  “Then stay down and run toward me if something attacks you,” Estin replied, fighting to suppress a smile. He could only hope that Lorne would get over her obsession with him if she saw the dangers of sticking around. “Whatever you do, don’t run away from me. I don’t want to chase down anything.”

  Eyes practically bulging, Lorne grabbed Estin’s arm and clung to it—her dull claws still managing to dig into the skin of his arm painfully—as they passed through the gates and out into the desert.

  “Why are we going out here?” asked Lorne as she pulled a light muslin hood over her head and ears to shield her from the sun. “Shouldn’t we go back into the city and find somewhere safe?”

  “There is nowhere safe. This thing will follow us anywhere. Better to finish it off and move on.”

  “What is it?” she asked almost immediately, eyes searching the desert, the walls behind them, and even the sky. To Estin’s amusement, the one thing she did not do was sniff for anything unusual. She truly had grown up around the furless races.

  “A ghoul. Corpse that can sniff out its prey. Arturis sends one after me every few days, unless he forgets.”

  Lorne let out a faint terrified squeak and continued looking frantically in all directions, while lowering her head slightly below his.

  Leading the two of them far from the walls, Estin made his way out into the desert. Though the deeper desert was nearly smooth where there were no rocks, this close to the city, the dunes and wind-blown rises of sand created vast canyons and limited visibility. The change of scenery only seemed to panic Lorne more, and she took to keeping one hand clasped to the back of his shirt, as though he might vanish if she lost contact with him.

  After about a thirty minute walk from the gates, Estin stopped and knelt down, taking out his sword and laying it across his lap.

  “New to the deserts?” he asked, trying to learn more about the female that seemed so determined to follow him. He knew the ghoul was coming, but figured he may as well make use of the time. “You mentioned coming from the south.”

  Lorne scowled at him and then gave the hills another nervous glance.

  “I don’t know where I was born,” admitted the wildling, her ears turning one way, then the other as she sought some indication of an attack. “The lands far to the south were dry, but not like this. More scrublands and grass plains near the sea. That was the first place I remember.”

  A slight movement on one of the sand rises nearby caught Estin’s eye, but he said nothing. After a few seconds, he became convinced that it was nothing more than blowing sand or a small rodent. He even thought he saw the tail of a desert rat vanish into a hole.

  “My family and I are from the mountains,” Estin mused, checking Lorne for any reaction. Like the others he had told that to, her brows furrowed in confusion.

  “I’ve never seen mountains. Do you mean the tall rocks in the southeast? They’re tall, but not mountains. I’ve
seen pictures of mountains and they’re very different.”

  “We traveled the mists somehow,” Estin confessed, shifting his tail to keep it from getting baked by the sun. With a flick, he covered it with a thin layer of sand to protect it. “No idea where the mountains are, relative to here. I haven’t found anyone who’s traveled the normal way between here and there.”

  Lorne bent at the waist and stared him in the eyes as if looking for something.

  “You’re lying,” she said finally. “No one travels the mists. They destroy and scatter, but no one comes out alive.”

  “You’ve seen them, then?”

  Ears drooping slightly, she nodded. “My first master’s home—most of her lands, as well—were lost to the mists about eight or nine months ago. They had already been fighting a war against the dead for almost two years before that, so I’d been sold to a city called Bashtah, southwest of here, long before the mists got close. Anyone who couldn’t fight was sold or sent away.”

  “We had our own little war about the same time,” Estin explained. He thought back briefly on watching Lantonne overrun by legions of risen corpses, then shook his head to clear the memory. “Things are...different here. Back home, the undead had won. The cities were overrun and most of us who were still alive had fallen back into the mountains to hide.”

  Sitting down cross-legged in front of him, Lorne continued to study his face, as though trying to glean more than he was saying.

  “And you claim mists brought you here?” she asked skeptically.

  “Feanne, the kits, and I got caught...”

  “Kits? Excuse me?”

  “My children.”

  “Kits?” Lorne sat up straight, her tail giving a nervous thrash that sent sand flying. “You actually bred with the fox? How are you still alive?”

  Estin opened his mouth to explain, but was thrown backward in a tumble as the pale-skinned ghoul leapt at them, tackling Lorne and kicking Estin over.

  Screaming and flailing, Lorne was doing her best to keep the ghoul off of her. This amounted to very little once it got atop her and pinned her arms.