Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  “They don’t like soldiers much, either.”

  Grumbling incoherently, Phaesys tried to get her to look up at him, but she chose to ignore him, keeping her head against his chest.

  “I meant, what do your parents think about you being here, Oria?”

  Turning to lay on her stomach and rest her head on his chest so she looked down her long nose at him, Oria saw that the fear and shame that had so long marred every glance he had given her was gone. It was not a question out of fear, but one of curiosity.

  “My father might object yet.” Idly, she touched the still-matted fur near his ear where Estin had partially-healed a long, ragged wound. Phaesys had washed it, but the wound was still a little raw and might reopen if struck. “Mother has given me an unofficial blessing, or at least as close to one as she’ll ever give.”

  Pulling Oria close, Phaesys tucked his muzzle near her ear, tickling her fur there with each breath. She put her arm around him, clinging tightly, right up until she felt him flinch away.

  Mentally tracing where her arm had lain, Oria realized that she had been pressing against the wound on Phaesys’ chest. The very fact that he said nothing made her wonder all the more at how bad it still was.

  When Oria reached to slide open Phaesys’ shirt, he caught her wrist and stopped her.

  “Approval or not, this is inappropriate,” he told her firmly. “I am betrothed and you are too young for the moment. I already do more than I should.”

  Giving him a short growl, Oria slapped his hand away and slid atop Phaesys, sitting squarely on his stomach. He was so shocked that she managed to pull aside part of his shirt before he could react. Modesty, she noted, was going to be an easy way to redirect him if he got out of control.

  Where the shirt had covered, Oria found a thick gauze patch, stuck to the oozing wound. The fur was mostly scraped away near that spot and when she checked the edge of the gauze, Oria saw a quarter-inch notch in Phaesys’ flesh where the wound had not fully closed. It was still bleeding, though not terribly.

  “You should have that tended to,” she told him, again slapping his hand away when he tried to stop her. “I’ll talk to my father in the morning.”

  Looking away from her, Phaesys answered grimly, “I really do not wish to burden your family more than I already have. My father caused your parents so much pain…”

  Grabbing Phaesys’ chin and forcing him to look at her, Oria replied, “Your father’s choices cost you your mate—betrothed, whatever—and brought us together, Phaesys. I think it has cost you as much as it has brought about good.”

  Smiling somewhat embarrassedly, Phaesys patted down the gauze patch on his chest. He lay back, staring up at the rapidly darkening sky above with one arm around her and his other hand lying across the gauze, presumably to discourage Oria from touching it again.

  “Does it hurt much?” Oria asked him absently, lying down at his side again.

  “Yes, but I think I get hurt more around you than I ever did as a soldier.”

  Oria laughed a little at that, setting her hand on his.

  Looking down again, Phaesys picked up Oria’s hand, studying her fingers as he did.

  “When we met,” he observed, sliding his fingers between hers, “you told me I was a slave because I had no claws.”

  Examining both of their hands, Oria felt a bit of embarrassment.

  “You’ve been growing yours,” Oria noted, smiling as she realized the difference she had somehow missed. “Now mine are all broken off.”

  “Does that make you a slave, Oria?”

  “Depends on who’s buying and why.”

  Whiskers twitching nervously, Phaesys lay back down again and let both of their hands rest on his chest.

  “Phaesys?” she asked him after a minute.

  “Yes?”

  “Where I come from, the female chooses the male she wants to keep around at any given time. She picks both regular mates and life-mates.”

  Phaesys swallowed hard and began looking around at the nearest sleeping soldiers, as though seeking someone he could call to for help. Had she not been holding him, Oria wondered if he would have tried to escape already.

  “If you were free of your obligations to Corraith and your father,” she went on, undeterred, “would you leave these lands with me if I asked you to? I’m not asking you to be…I just…would you follow me, even as a friend?”

  Though he was quiet for a long time, Oria gave Phaesys as long as he needed. He opened his mouth to talk at least three times before actually speaking, making Oria nervous each time he did. She felt as though if he did it one more time, she would be forced to shake him until he told her what he was thinking, or at least prod at his chest wound until he talked.

  Finally, making a point of not looking directly at her, Phaesys answered, “If I could know that my betrothed is gone, then yes. Not knowing makes this very difficult, Oria. By our customs, the moment I find her, any commitments I make to you are gone. I would need to see her remains, or tell her that our families’ bargain is at an end. Otherwise, I could not.”

  “Have I mentioned your customs are stupid?”

  Phaesys laughed at her, pulling her close beside him. “By your own people’s rules, I have at least two months to figure it out or break off the betrothing, Oria,” he told her, brushing at her whiskers. “Until then, I would not speak of it again. I do swear that we will speak more of leaving the deserts when this is over. Agreed?”

  “Agreed…for now.”

  *

  As Oria opened her eyes, feeling the sun already shining down on her back, she realized immediately that Phaesys was gone. The blankets had been laid over her, but he had somehow managed to slip out from under her without waking her.

  Lifting herself up onto her elbows to look around with bleary eyes, Oria then noticed that she had become a curiosity among the soldiers. Standing in front of her were three young wildling males—two desert foxes like Phaesys and one lizard wildling. These were not people she had met before, but given the size of the group of soldiers in the area, that was no surprise. All were a little close for Oria’s liking and all were probably no more than a year older than she was, if that.

  “Care to come to my bedroll tonight?” asked one of the male foxes, drawing laughter from the other two wildlings. “Share the love?”

  Snarling, Oria hopped to her feet and marched up to the male, expecting him to back down. Instead, two elves joined the wildlings, partially circling her, with their hands on their weapons.

  Oria tilted her ears, tracking those who moved out of her peripheral vision, making sure not to look away from the male she had approached. These might not be the people she had grown up with, but males were the same everywhere. The ones behind her would not act until she appeared to be hurting their friend and then they would assist in grabbing her.

  Trying very hard not to take her eyes away from the face of the male she stood in front of, Oria took a quick check of the edges of her vision for weapons, drawn or otherwise.

  Being soldiers, every one of the males carried a sword at their hip, though none were currently drawn. She had to believe she was quicker than most of these soldiers, but five was more than Oria felt remotely comfortable with. Still, it was too late to back down. Her pride mandated that she stand her ground.

  “I think I’ll stay where I feel more welcome,” Oria told the male in front of her, flashing her teeth briefly. Rather than discouraging him or the others, the male laughed at her.

  “Little girl thinks she’s an animal,” said the male, drawing more laughter from the others. “If I throw a ball, will you chase it, girl?”

  The callous dismissal of her predatory behavior instantly disarmed Oria and she realized that she was not in a good position. She was smaller than any of the males—even the wildlings—and surrounded. Intimidation was a large part of living in the wilds, but without that benefit, they certainly had the upper-hand.

  She tried not to let her thoughts sho
w, but Oria knew she was in a lot of trouble. One or two were no threat, but five were more than enough to bring her down without effort and possibly without weapons.

  “Might be better if all of you left me alone,” Oria tried, attempting to be casual. “I’m heir to one of the Altisian packs and while I’m here, I’m with Phaesys Herrouln. You should show some respect for your leaders.”

  Nearly choking with laughter, the fox closest to her reached out and caught Oria by the top of her shirt. She thought about attacking, but forced herself to wait, knowing that any chance of diffusing the situation would depend on staying calm.

  “You claim the traitor’s son as reason we should leave you alone?” the wildling male asked, pulling Oria close. She could smell ale and spices on his breath, making her even more uneasy, if that were possible. “My brother died trying to save the traitor. My mother died during our escape. One of my cousins was executed in Corraith, just because of how we look. Give me a reason not to throw you to the men for sport, if only to punish the Herroulns. A few dozen soldiers using you might make us even.”

  While the male held her shirt, Oria carefully slipped one of her hands alongside his leather armor, touching the hilt of his sword without him realizing she had done so. If he tried to do anything more, she would take his weapon and fight as hard as she could. Even armed, she knew the odds were strongly against her, if only because these were trained warriors and she was not.

  “He is not his father,” Oria growled back at the male, still keeping up the act of being self-assured. Behind her, she could just barely make out the sound of the others getting closer.

  Shifting his grip from her shirt to her throat, the male said, “Maybe not, but he’s the son of a traitor. Thousands of people are dead because of his father’s treachery. Tell me why I shouldn’t punish him…or his pet whore.”

  Oria closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself. Every time she had been called that, she wanted to murder everyone involved, but it would not do to rush herself here. A single mistake could cost her at least her life.

  “Even if you blame him, why are you threatening me?” she demanded, slapping the male’s fingers off of her throat. If he had proper claws, she would have been less confident doing that, but she saw little harm with his human-like fingertips.

  “I’m not threatening…much,” he answered with a nod to one of the others.

  The males closed in on her abruptly and Oria only had a second to react before hands grabbed at her shoulders and arms. The male directly in front of her brought his arm back and punched Oria along the side of her muzzle, stunning her.

  Yanking the lead male’s weapon free as she fell away, Oria brought it in an upward arc to her right, slashing wildly across the armor of the next closest to her, then kicked backward, knocking another onto his back when her foot slammed into his stomach.

  The fight, if it could be called that, ended seconds later as the males tackled Oria, overpowering her and taking the sword from her hand. They pinned her down with little effort. Then, as she struggled to free herself, the one who had spoken to her knelt at her side, planting his knee on her neck and nearly choking her.

  “My boys found out where the nearest kobold tribe lives,” the male told her, putting more pressure on her throat, preventing her from answering as she tried to gasp for air. “This should be fun for us. Not for you.”

  Oria’s mind raced, trying to think both of a way to escape and for some idea of what the male meant by kobolds. She had heard of the creatures back near Altis, but only as a warning from others to avoid them. Nothing about what they were or why they were a threat came to mind as she tried to free her arms.

  “They’ll gut you, little girl,” the male went on, tracing a line across Oria’s stomach with his finger. “Hang your intestines from a pole to mark their land. Awful shame to give you to them, but it’s what Corraith has always done with traitors and their families. Maybe you can talk us into keeping you here, but it’ll be a lot of work…”

  Growling even without enough air to speak, Oria thrashed, trying desperately to break free. She came close several times, but the males on her legs and arms would not budge. Twice, she managed to get solid kicks against someone, but she could not be sure whether they had even noticed, as the grip on her legs never wavered.

  Without warning, the male by Oria’s face crashed across her, rolling over top of his companions as he was tackled by someone else. The impact freed one of her arms and gave Oria a second to react as the other males tried get back in control of her limbs.

  Twisting hard, Oria punched the male on her other arm in the throat, making him gag and lose his hold on her. With her whole upper-body free, Oria threw her weight away from the remaining two males, getting enough leverage to pull a leg free. Two hard kicks and she scrambled to her feet.

  Rolling away from the males that were still trying to catch Oria or were rushing toward their leader, Oria came up on one knee, driving her fist into the crotch of the closest male wildling. Tail tucked tight to his body, he dropped like a rock at her feet.

  Nearby, Oria realized that Phaesys had one of the elves on the ground and was punching the man over and over, trying to make him stay down, while the other three—two wildlings and one elf—were kicking and punching at Phaesys and trying to drag him off of their companion.

  Oria leapt immediately to Phaesys’ defense, tackling the male that begun the attack on her. She nearly rolled him onto his stomach, but he managed to right himself, grabbing at her face to try and pry her off.

  Locking her legs around the male to keep him from rolling her, Oria batted aside his hands, punching him as hard as she could across the jaw and nose. He kept fighting back, driving his elbow into her stomach before he managed to kick his legs up and sweep Oria off of him.

  Tucking to keep from being kicked, Oria spun away from the wildling and attempted to get back up. Before she could, he jumped onto her, hooking one arm around her neck.

  “Let’s see what Phaesys thinks of this,” he hissed in her ear, as Oria heard a knife sliding free of its sheath.

  Panicking, Oria fought as hard as she could, managing to get a hold on the arm wrapped around her. Oria pulled hard, flipping the male onto his back.

  The male was still not ready to give up, reaching up and digging his fingers into Oria’s shoulder fur, yanking her down as he brought up his knife in his other hand.

  Oria acted as quickly as she could, pushing aside the knife—the keen edge slicing through the skin of her lower arm—and did exactly as her mother had taught her in close-fighting situations.

  Leaning into the male, Oria slipped past his attempt to stop her, clamping her fangs down on his throat. While holding him down, she bit as hard as she could, until blood filled her mouth and he stopped moving beneath her.

  Oria got back up in a hurry, blood still pouring from her mouth and the cut on her arm, trying to see if Phaesys was still struggling. Half-standing over the wildling she had just killed, Oria found herself nearly face-to-face with Phaesys, who stared back at her in horror. Behind him, the remaining soldiers lay groaning on the sand and stone.

  “What have you done?” he asked her, his eyes glued to her mouth.

  “I had to!” Oria pleaded, though speaking only made the matter worse as coppery blood dripped past her teeth. “He was going to kill me.”

  Shaking his head, Phaesys turned and hurried away, leaving Oria standing in the middle of the soldiers’ camp, alone with the unconscious and dead.

  *

  For the next few hours, Oria hung around her parents while they discussed plans for an attack against the small force Arturis had left at his disposal, while the kits played around and sometimes atop them.

  Oria mostly ignored the conversation, watching the soldiers’ camp for any sign of Phaesys, but he had not reappeared since running off. The rest of the soldiers she saw gave her dark looks, or avoided looking directly at her, letting her know that word had already spread of her action
s.

  As she had every time she directly thought of Phaesys, Oria rubbed at her muzzle, making sure there was no blood left there. She had washed it thoroughly, but the fear remained. Worse yet, the taste refused to go away, making her constantly worry that there was blood still visible.

  Oria had believed, based on Phaesys’ initial reaction, that she was going to be punished for what she had done. She had gone straight to her mother and confessed to killing the soldier and her mother had then taken her to Norum.

  The older human had listened through Oria’s nervous explanation of what had happened, but had said little before thanking her for her honesty and walking away. Since then, she had not heard anything about what might come of it all, but she had expected it at any moment.

  Neither Feanne nor Estin had been willing to comment on what the elves or their commander might do.

  Curled up miserably, waiting for something awful to happen, Oria was startled when her mother touched her arm.

  “Oria, he’s here. What would you have me do?”

  Feanne was motioning toward Norum, who had returned while Oria was focused elsewhere.

  Giving her mother’s hand a squeeze, Oria told her, “I’ll face my mistakes on my own, mother. Let me do this alone.”

  Feanne rested the side of her muzzle against Oria’s cheek briefly and left the two alone, taking Estin with her as she went. Soon, no one but Oria and Norum were within sight.

  “You’re here to punish me,” Oria said to the man, knowing it was the truth after one glance at the human’s face.

  “Aye, child,” he answered. “You need to understand the full extent of what you did.”

  “I killed someone who was trying to kill me. Where I come from, there is no guilt in that.”

  Norum drew his sword from his belt and squatted down to lower himself to Oria’s level.

  “You did not just kill a man. You tore his throat out…with your teeth. I don’t care where you come from, that’s brutal. Besides, you did more than that. You killed the last member of his family.”