by Jim Galford
Wind began to blow across them, the sand it carried stinging Oria’s eyes and exposed skin. Covering herself as best she could, she waited for it to pass, but soon realized it was almost as though they lay in the middle of a tiny tornado, the sands swirling around their group. Each second, the intensity grew.
“What is this?” she asked, holding part of her shirt over her mouth to keep sand out of her lungs.
Curling up on the ground to shield himself, Phaesys called out, though his voice was largely drowned by the winds. “A desert spirit! They call to the creatures of the desert to attack the unwary! We need to run!”
Oria did not see that happening. Instead, the group huddled down, despite Phaesys’ urging, trying to keep from being battered by the winds. Soon, it had grown bad enough that Oria could see a full column of sand rising above them, encircling the three of them.
As suddenly as the winds had come, they stopped, leaving Oria’s ears ringing. Standing in the middle of the group was a new figure, stretching out her arms.
“That was different,” Feanne told them, shaking sand off of herself. “These lands never fail to surprise me.”
“What was that?” asked Estin, sitting up, causing streams of sand to roll off of him. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”
“I still have not done it,” she answered, offering Oria a hand up. “That was a nature spirit of the desert. It recognized what I was and offered its assistance in finding the three of you.”
“Can we use it to get to the refugee camp ahead of Arturis?” asked Oria, helping Phaesys to stand.
“I do not think this spirit will go near the camp that Arturis now seeks,” Feanne explained, then made a beckoning gesture toward the west. From that direction, a spinning pillar of sand and wind appeared and began moving their way. “The spirits of these lands have no interest in getting involved with our war, but they have offered themselves to aid me for the moment.”
Roaring across the desert floor, the tornado-like entity came to a stop just in front of Feanne. It continued to rage, but stayed where it was, seemingly waiting for her next request. Sand whipped around the group, battering Oria’s already burned skin.
“The magic of nature provides again,” Feanne told them, motioning toward the contained windstorm. “I will explain when we arrive.”
“Arrive?” asked Estin, staring at her like she was insane.
“Do not go near it,” pleaded Phaesys, grabbing Oria’s arm. “Desert dervishes will kill anyone. We lost entire patrols to them when I first joined the city guard. They are intelligent and malicious.”
Feanne sneered somewhat at Phaesys before stepping fully into the swirling sands. The winds almost appeared to part for her, allowing her easy entrance to the middle, where the sand and wind seemed much diminished.
“If they harmed your patrols,” Feanne called out, once the sands had concealed her from view, “then your patrols were somewhere they did not think belonged. This dervish is willing to aid us. Come, or stay in the desert to die. I cannot make the nature spirit stay much longer, without offering it far more than I wish to.”
Estin was the first to follow, walking straight into the sands with his eyes closed. Like Feanne, he vanished from view.
Turning to Phaesys, who still clung to her arm, Oria clasped his face in her hands.
“You need to trust my whole family, not just me,” she told him, tapping her nose against his. “Please come with me.”
Phaesys tried to pull her toward him and away from the windstorm, but Oria held her ground, refusing to move. Soon, he took a step toward her, trying to put his arms around her.
Rather than let Phaesys have the comfort he was seeking, Oria began stepping backward toward the swirling sands, pulling him gently along. Phaesys looked ready to run, but he kept his eyes locked to hers, allowing her to lead him.
Soon, Oria’s tail brushed against the flying sand and she truly wished she had not backed into the storm. The sting of the sand felt like razors brushing against the raw skin of her tail-tip, but she had to maintain her calm if Phaesys was going to trust her all the way into the storm.
Biting her own tongue to keep her focus off of the pain in her tail, Oria took one more step backward and grabbed Phaesys’ wrists, pulling him into the storm with her.
As Oria passed through the wall of sand, the winds became brutally intense for several seconds. Then, without warning, the entire column of flying sand simply fell from the sky, as though the winds had vanished.
Looking around, Oria realized that she, Phaesys, Feanne, and Estin now stood somewhere different than where they had been. Not far from them, a large group of humans and elves, as well as Lorne and the three kits, were staring back at the new arrivals in shock.
“I thought you said it couldn’t take us to the camp?” Oria asked, turning on her mother. “We need to get these people out of here before Arturis arrives.”
Smiling, Feanne gave her head a little shake.
“No, we are not at the camp,” she told Oria. “I already moved them. We are far from where Arturis is headed. I thought that it would be foolish to come after you first, not knowing if I could then make it back in time to save these people.”
Motioning to a second group that stood behind where Oria had been facing, Feanne gestured broadly at nearly a hundred armored men, dressed in the garb of Corraithian guards. Oria recognized a few from her time back in Desphon’s tunnels.
“I found these fine men fighting for their lives in an effort to stop Desphon from letting ghouls harm their families,” Feanne went on and gave a polite bow as a human walked up to them from that group. “I believe we can count them as allies now.”
“Hello, little one,” Norum said in greeting to Oria, giving Feanne a polite nod as well. “I see you got your mother free. I think Desphon is still trying to have me gutted for letting you sneak past the guards.”
Oria threw herself into the large human’s arms, giving him a huge hug. “Thank you. None of us would be here if you hadn’t disobeyed orders.”
“You’d be surprised by how often treacherous bastards like that one forget to tell you not to do the right thing. They get kind of single-minded.” He then seemed to notice Phaesys, adding, “At least, I heard he was a traitor, master. No offense intended, of course.”
“I am not a noble,” Phaesys told them, sitting down hard. “My father was, but he may as well be dead. My household’s name means nothing. I am just another soldier, Norum. Please use my name from now on. There are no more titles to be had here.”
“Then we need to get you a weapon, if you want to fight with us lowly folks,” the soldier told him, gesturing to one of the others, who ran off to find a new sword. “You need to stop losing them. This is what, the second I’ve given you this month?”
“Third,” corrected Phaesys. “One when I was arrested, another when your man ‘accidentally’ let me take his weapon when freeing Feanne, and now this.”
Norum chuckled and nodded. “Three, it is. I may need to start billing you.”
“Bill my father. I heard he still has some wealth. It would serve the city better in other hands.”
The next few minutes were spent between greeting the few people that Oria knew from the tunnels and putting up with a young elven healer. The elven man went over Phaesys’ injuries first, then Oria’s. The man appeared shocked as he looked over the partially-healed frostbite on her foot, but said nothing when she scowled at him.
Once her foot was nearly mended through a combination of magic and soothing oils like the ones Phaesys had used on her long ago, Oria noticed that her parents had begun to head toward the kits, hurrying to sweep them up. Something about the situation caught Oria’s attention. Heading that way, she realized that things were about to get ugly.
“…glad you came back to us!” Lorne was exclaiming to Estin, stepping between Feanne and the kits.
Feanne’s back went rigidly-straight and Oria saw her fur prickle. Few things would ri
le her faster than anything regarding her children.
“Yeah, most of us are fine,” Estin said, looking uneasy, but clearly not wanting to get into what had happened with Atall. “We are exhausted and will need to rest for a little while. I can tell you about it later…”
A swish of Lorne’s tail blocked Feanne again, leaving little doubt that it was done on purpose. Though Lorne had not so much as looked at Feanne, she was actively keeping Feanne from both Estin and the kits. When Feanne stopped trying to advance, Lorne’s tail moved to create a partial circle around Estin and the kits.
Growling, Estin pushed her tail away and stepped back from her.
Oria braced herself for the bloodshed that could erupt at any moment.
“You can tell me about it while I get the kits settled in for bed,” Lorne went on, actually shouldering past Feanne to attempt to stay at Estin’s side as he moved to take the kits back. “I was thinking…”
“Why are you watching the kits?” Estin demanded, stopping. “I left them with Marra. You were not part of this.”
“Marra argued a little,” Lorne admitted, moving to Estin’s other side as Feanne walked closer. “I just explained who I was and…”
Feanne grabbed Lorne by the neck, dragging her away from Estin and the kits. As though having expected it, Estin swept the kits into his arms, shielding them from what was happening and talking softly to them to distract them.
Oria followed her mother as Feanne pulled Lorne aside, around the side of one the tall stone spires that filled that section of the desert. Oria stopped a little ways away, making sure the two women would not know she was watching.
“What, precisely, do you think you’re doing?” demanded Feanne, thumping Lorne up against the stones, still holding her by the neck.
“These people don’t accept the whole interracial thing,” gasped Lorne. “People were giving some odd looks at the kits, so I just explained that Estin and I adopted them. It’ll be easier on the kits if the people think…”
“The truth. It will always be easier on children if they are not lied to or about.”
“Maybe it would be better if you left him. You can take the kits if you’re that sure…”
Feanne released her hold on Lorne’s throat, letting the somewhat shorter female drop back onto her feet.
“Do you have no respect for anything?” asked Feanne, pacing in front of Lorne, tail flicking back and forth, like she was searching for prey in the desert. “It is bad enough you try to take him from me when I am not around, but doing it in front of me is foolish.”
“Afraid I might succeed?” Lorne inquired, standing straight and trying to hide her fear of Feanne, though Oria could see it clearly and knew her mother would as well.
Growling, but keeping a short distance from Lorne, Feanne’s head was low as she watched Lorne angrily “Lorne, I will ask you one last time to leave us both alone. You may help us as we request it, but nothing more. Continue on your current path and I will send you away in pieces.”
Lunging, Lorne raked her claws across Feanne’s face with a timid snarl.
Feanne did not move, even as Lorne backed away. Where the claws had crossed her face, only three thin lines of blood gave any indication that she had been touched. Oria had seen and received worse cuts just running through heavy brush in the woods.
“If that is the way you wish to resolve this…” Feanne finally said, going from deadly calm to lunging at Lorne in a breath.
Tackling Lorne, Feanne rolled the female completely over, using Lorne’s own weight to slam her to the ground. Feanne came up on top of her, sitting on Lorne’s stomach with her claws at Lorne’s throat and her teeth bared just a fraction of an inch from her nose.
“Where I come from, I would be within my rights to kill you here,” Feanne warned, her voice so low that Oria could barely hear her. “They would find your body in the morning and know why you were dead. No one would question me. Some might not even question me if you had done far less than you already have, given that you are prey and I am most certainly not.”
“Savage,” Lorne hissed, closing her eyes tightly. “Your kind should be in cages, not mine.”
Oria could tell that Feanne was struggling to keep from killing Lorne, but it was a battle she was beginning to lose. Deep down, Oria wished her mother would just do it. There was no sense she could see in letting the female continue to live if she meant to pursue Estin like this.
“If I am a savage who belongs in a cage,” asked Feanne through clenched teeth, “then why try for the male who would stoop to be my mate? Would he be any less of a savage? What does that say about you, Lorne, that the only male you can find has chosen another? Your taste leaves much to be desired…or perhaps you are just that unwanted.”
Lorne’s sobs ended the conversation effectively and Feanne got up off her, stalking away past Oria to head back toward the main encampment. As Feanne passed where Oria was hiding, she reached out and caught Oria by the arm, pulling her along with her.
“Did you hear all of that?” her mother asked, once they were a little ways from Lorne.
“Yes.”
“And if you had been in my place?”
“If she had tried to take…” Oria realized what she had been about to say and hurriedly made her statement more general, “…the male I was life-mated to, I would have killed her.”
“Even if it meant upsetting your mate, assuming he knew why you did it?”
“Which is worse, mom? Having a female trying to steal your mate, or your mate being upset?”
Feanne’s anger faded almost immediately.
“Letting her live is worse in the short-term,” she explained, easing her grip on Oria’s arm. “Creating new reasons to fight with your mate is always worse over time. You will find enough reasons to bicker without adding a murder or two to the list.
“I chose to let her live…again…because it would sadden Estin to have another of his breed killed on his account, even if he agreed with my reason for doing it.”
“Shouldn’t you be protecting your family or pack from challengers?”
Smiling down at Oria, Feanne nodded. “Yes, if I were a pack leader, I would need to kill her, or chase her off. Without a pack, my decisions are those of a mate, not a leader. That is something I think you fail to understand for yourself, Oria.”
“What do you mean?”
Stopping just out of sight of the gathering of humans and elves around a campfire, Feanne knelt in front of Oria.
“You will never lead a pack, because our pack is gone,” said Feanne, taking one of Oria’s hands and brushing her fingers over Oria’s broken claws. “Be true to yourself with him, rather than trying to act like a little pack leader. You will be far happier once you can see the difference within yourself.”
Pulling her hand away, Oria scowled at her lack of claws.
“He isn’t…” she objected, but Feanne put a finger to Oria’s mouth, stopping her.
“Whether you want him or not is not my concern,” her mother told her. “I do not want you driving him away, or anyone you might choose, simply because you believe you must be strong for a pack that no longer exists. Choose to be happy with who you are, not miserable waiting for something that is long gone.”
Hurrying past her mother out of embarrassment, Oria moved back into the camp, hoping to avoid a continuation of the discussion. She started toward where she could smell Estin and the kits, as she had always camped with her family. Then, sniffing again, she realized that Phaesys was somewhere among the soldiers, a short distance from the refugees.
From what Oria could see, the soldiers had set up a ring around the encampment with their own bedrolls and kept a group patrolling the outer perimeter. If anything attacked, it would reach the awake soldiers first, sleeping soldiers next, and then the unarmed remainder last.
Oria argued with herself briefly. She wanted to go to her family, but hated the idea of her mother’s continued lecturing. She could go to Phaes
ys, though that just furthered the direction of her mother’s argument.
To look strong in the face of so many strangers, Oria knew she needed to stay with her family and share the burden of protecting them. That was where she belonged as a future leader among the wildlings. If Phaesys was fool enough to go sleep among elves, that was not her concern.
She set off, making her way around elderly and injured refugees and skirted a group of soldiers who were sharing a kettle of soup before returning to patrol. Once she was past them, Oria headed to her destination, pushing past two elven men who were in her way. They moved readily, despite her being a foot shorter than them, unarmored, and likely about half their weight.
Coming into the bedding area for that part of the camp, Oria sat down next to Phaesys and reveled in his uncomfortable stare.
“Shouldn’t you be with your family?” he asked her, sitting up on his bedding. “You probably don’t belong among a bunch of men who spend their lives away from women, just fighting and drinking.”
Oria looked around at the soldiers, who were making a point of not looking back at her. The few women she saw among their numbers were segregated, sharing a common section of the camp.
“I grew up with drunks and letches, who I still consider family. We spent every night wondering if thousands of undead were going to kill us, and even spent a few weeks with a group of wolf wildlings that wanted to eat us,” she told Phaesys as she lay down beside him. “Soldiers don’t scare me. What they think of me matters even less.”
“I’m more afraid of leaving you alone near them.”
Oria snickered, curling up close to Phaesys’ left side. He had thankfully changed from his bloody clothing into a new outfit, which was refreshing after more than a week on the run. Clean clothing had been hard to come by and even getting to recline against it was a nice change.
“Just because I like you doesn’t make me helpless. Remember that, just in case you ever really get me mad.”
Putting his arm around her and pulling her close, Phaesys asked, “What about your parents?”