Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  Just after the third turn, Arturis’ voice echoed up at them, saying, “Did you know that the Corraithians filled our old tunnels with more bodies? So many to pick from. I hope you like my selections.”

  Feanne slowed and looked back at Estin.

  “Expect a lot of undead,” she told the group, making sure she was loud enough for those behind Estin to hear. “He will try to slow us down. Estin and I intend to push though. Do not stop for any reason. If he escapes, anyone who caused us to fall behind will answer to me.”

  Once the others had given some indication they were listening, Feanne went on, a little slower this time, especially near the corners. After two more turns, she raised her hand to slow the group before she crept down a few more stairs. Then, as the floor leveled out, she disappeared from sight.

  “Come!” Feanne whispered back and the group advanced again.

  The underground passage they now stood in was wider than the staircase, allowing Estin and Feanne to walk side-by-side. Along both sides of the stone tunnel were crypts like Estin had seen in nearly every underground location since arriving in Corraith. Unlike most, these were intricately marked with symbols that had not been allowed to fade, though many had been altered or had family names added above them. These symbols matched the ones he had seen in the cave with On’esquin, the orcish Turessian.

  Once again, Estin wondered just what Corraith had been before the Turessians had left, centuries earlier.

  “Our nobility is buried down here,” explained an elven woman that Estin had seen come in with Oria. She seemed to be responding to his attention on the symbols and alcoves. “Twenty generations, at least. The tunnels were here long before that.”

  “So we’re dealing with twenty generations of possible undead down here,” he reminded the woman, whose eyes widened as she reasoned that out. “When was the last time you were down here? I need to know how long he could have been working at raising the corpses.”

  The woman smirked evilly, reminding Estin a little too much of Sirella. “Legally? Never. For fun and the occasional trinket left in a coffin, about three days ago. So he hasn’t had time to do too much.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t come in through the throne room?”

  “Nope. Lots of little tunnels connect to here. They run all under the town.”

  “Could you guess at which ones Arturis will probably use to escape?”

  “That I could. There’s only one way he’ll go. Could even show it to you.”

  Hurrying, the woman caught up to Feanne and began gesturing directions. Feanne nodded her understanding and sped back up, forcing the whole group to increase their pace to keep up with her.

  Not more than a minute later, Feanne slid to a stop on the dusty floor, backing away as groans began from somewhere ahead. The wailing sounds echoed, making it difficult to tell how far away they might be or how many there were.

  Estin could not identify numbers even by scent, as the corpses were too dry. He knew there were bodies nearby, but that was not much help in a crypt.

  Inching forward, Feanne peeked around the next corner and then pulled back immediately. She bared her teeth briefly in angry frustration.

  “Nine,” she whispered, using her fingers to show the soldiers farther back how many she saw. “Standing in a tight pack in the middle of the hall. We cannot avoid them. We will go through, but it will slow us down.”

  The elven woman Estin had spoken with beckoned to Sirella, who pushed her way to the front of the group.

  “My sister will draw their attention,” Sirella explained, while the other girl fitted an arrow to her bowstring. “Undead are stupid. If he told them to guard the hall, they will have no choice but to come running at the first thing they see. Once they attack us, they won’t give a spit about a dozen people walking by them.

  “Be ready for a fight, but get past them if you can. We’ll catch up. Try to keep the old guy alive until we get there, as I want to see him burn. I’ll hang onto Lyra and her men, but everyone else goes with you.”

  That said, Sirella drew her sword. As she did, the blade was engulfed in red-blue flames. The elves did not so much as look at the sword, but the soldiers stared at it briefly. Estin was no longer surprised by it, though he saw Feanne take a small step back as the flames blazed between her and Sirella.

  “Go!” Sirella told her sister, situating herself out of the way of the rest of the group along one wall.

  The elven woman with the bow—Lyra, Estin surmised—ran across the hall, planting herself in the far corner. There, she had a clear shot down the hallway, without fear of being bumped by the others passing her. With the groans of the dead suddenly louder at having seen her, Lyra let arrow after arrow fly down the hall, most followed by soft thuds in the distance.

  “Your turn,” Sirella told Estin and Feanne, shoving them into the hall.

  At Feanne’s side the whole way, Estin charged around the corner, finding himself facing nine zombies, all clawing at the air, stumbling toward Sirella and her sister. Nearly all of them had arrows sticking out of their chests or necks and were so focused on Sirella’s sister that they pushed past Feanne and Estin, trying to get to their targets.

  Mere seconds after passing the first walking corpse, Estin heard the crackle of fire behind him, but he pressed on. Most of the zombies walked straight ahead, but some Estin had to shoulder past or evade completely. Soon enough though he was back in the open hallway, running after Feanne, with the soldiers and Sirella’s enchanter at his back.

  The remaining group followed Feanne as she took turns seemingly at random. Estin knew she was using the directions Sirella’s sister gave her, but there was no scent or reason to believe they had gone the correct way. Minutes passed and they ran on, making Estin wonder if they really had gone the wrong way, especially as the tunnels began to look older and less maintained.

  Then Estin heard Arturis’ voice faintly somewhere ahead and knew they were on the right path, or had managed to get ahead of him somehow. Feanne must have heard him too, as she ran even faster than she had been. They soon burst into another large room, this one lined with alcoves and bodies.

  Standing near one of the alcoves, Arturis was touching the skeletal remains within it, whispering some kind of magical incant. Near him, four more skeletal undead stood at the ready, their boney grins directed toward the living newcomers. Each of the corpses held a curved, rusty sword and stood defensively, as though well aware of how to fight.

  Near Arturis, sitting in one of the alcoves was Lorne, with her legs tucked up under her skirt, holding a lantern. At the entry of Estin’s group, she looked up, and then quickly away again. She leaned back into the alcove, as though that would keep others from recognizing the long tail hanging out into the room.

  “Lorne?” asked Estin, pointing his weapon at her. “Why aren’t you with the others? Why are you here?”

  Lorne opened her mouth to answer, but Arturis spoke first.

  “She told me where your weak and useless are hiding,” the man said, stroking the smooth skull in the alcove nearest him. “Amazing how willing your people are to make a bargain. You don’t even ask for much.”

  Growling, Estin stared at Lorne, wishing she would look up, but her head hung much like Phaesys’ had. It was then that Estin saw the horn on a leather strap over Lorne’s shoulder. He had never seen her carrying a horn before and felt his fur bristle angrily.

  Feanne said nothing, but Estin could feel the anger radiating off of her as she too stared at the horn. There was no reason to doubt that the female had been the one that alerted Arturis to their entry into the city.

  Grabbing Feanne’s arm to keep her from blindly charging in, Estin asked, “And what did you ask for, Lorne?”

  Arturis smiled and patted Lorne on the knee.

  “I asked for him to spare you and your children,” Lorne admitted, pointedly looking away from Feanne as she got up and stood behind the skeletons. “That, and to show us where our breed comes
from. He claims he can take us to our ancestral homeland, via the mists. No matter what you think of what I’ve done, that has to be appealing. He knows what we are…”

  “Let me make a guess at what the price of this deal was,” Feanne noted, giving Estin a dark look. “I believe I know what you found worth endangering all of the young and elderly, including our children.”

  “No!” Lorne exclaimed, stepping forward and then back again as she got a little overly close to the skeletons. “I made sure the children would be safe. It was only the humans and elves…and you …”

  Feanne’s growl cut the female short.

  “About that…” Arturis said, waving a hand absently at Lorne.

  Magic wrapped around Lorne, snapping her limbs in different directions and tearing at her flesh. A second later, she collapsed in a bloody heap, shattering the horn under her as she landed.

  “I had no use for her anyway,” Arturis said, returning his attention to the skeleton beside him. “Besides, she forgot to ask that she be spared. I think she believed it was implied. I’ve kept my deal, thus far. Estin and his remaining children get to live. Everyone else is disposable. Of course, offers of protection are waived if he attacks me.”

  “What now?” Estin asked, easing into the room to allow more space for the soldiers to enter. “What’s the plan? Run? Kill us all? Why all this effort, just to get us down here?”

  “My people’s remains are defiled routinely by this wretched society,” Arturis said without looking up. “I wanted you all to see what Corraith did to the ancient Turessians. They threw their bodies into a hole and let them rot. Nothing could be more offensive to my people.

  “It was the defiling that brought me here initially. I wanted it to stop. Once I got down here and realized Turess might have hidden away old knowledge, revenge was only part of my reason for staying.

  “I suppose you want to avenge your rug of a son. Well, I would like to avenge my entire empire. We all have our issues, wildling. My revenge is just usually better thought-out than yours. I always come into this with a plan.”

  The skeleton under Arturis’ hand lurched and sat up. After pointing it toward the others, Arturis stepped over Lorne and backed toward the far end of the room, where another tunnel led off into darkness. Past this room, it appeared there were no more torches.

  Just before vanishing from sight, Arturis gestured toward Estin and the rest of the group. Faintly glowing energy rose from the ground, encircling them and sealing the doorway behind them. They were trapped in a large magical cage with the skeletons. They would have to fight the undead at the same time they struggled to tear down the magical barrier. The soldiers had managed to get into the room, but there would be no reinforcements until Estin could deal with the barrier.

  “Spread out,” Feanne warned the group as the five skeletons moved to create a line across the room. “I need everyone to cover one another. Estin and I will need cover, while we try to get the walls down.”

  Estin began muttering the nonsensical words of a spell, hoping to tear apart the threads of magic that the wall was made of, before they had solidified too much. As he did, he was struck hard in the forehead, knocking him over backward, the spell lost with his concentration.

  Touching his forehead, Estin found that he was bleeding and then noticed a bloody rock on the floor nearby. Looking up, he saw that one of the skeletons was picking up more palm-sized rocks from the floor as it waited for them to attack.

  “I really hate smart undead,” Estin grumbled, getting back up while rubbing at the swollen spot on his head. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

  The group of soldiers advanced alongside Feanne, cautiously approaching the waiting skeletons. With each step, the eternal grins of the skeletons appeared to mock them all the more.

  Closing his eyes, intending to offer up a prayer to the spirits that he might find some way to get to Arturis before he could escape again, Estin instead found himself whispering, “Atall, today I’ll try. I hope I have the strength to avenge you.”

  The voices of the spirits came loud and fast to Estin, despite the fact that he hadn’t attempted to channel his magic. Among the clearer voices, he heard Lihuan and Asrahn, but anything they were saying was drowned out by Atall’s voice. The boy could have been right beside Estin, as clear as he was.

  “The gift they gave you was always tied to the spirits,” he was saying to Estin. “Your anger can motivate them to give it to you for a time, but few things are more convincing than this place. All you had to do was ask one of those who control its power. My grandparents are giving me that right. Now, I give you what you need to save our family.”

  Looking down at his hands, Estin saw that his claws glowed faintly white and a prickling sensation like standing too near a lightning strike filled his body. Around him, the faint shadows of the spirits circled him like a shield against those who would attack him. Anger and the need to destroy welled up almost instantly. He knew, deep down, that nothing would stand before him. Even the Turessian might be fair game.

  Estin felt just like he had when he had come for Feanne. Now, he told himself, he would do to Arturis what was done to his son. The man would know fear and pain again.

  Standing slowly, Estin let out a roar that dislodged sand from the roof and made even the skeletons take a step backward. Without thought, Estin slammed into the magical walls and began tearing at them with his claws. White light surrounded his claws with every swing, shredding the magic Arturis had built.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Confrontation”

  I took loyalty for granted. It was a part of who we were as a family. For my entire life, I had been surrounded by either my immediate family, or those loyal to them. Never once had I really considered a reason that someone would betray my trust.

  Phaesys was the first in my life for a great many things. He was my first love, the first time I placed faith in someone outside my family, and certainly the first person I believed loved me in return for who I was despite his misgivings about my upbringing. These things cannot be taken back or simply reconsidered. Once you give them to another, they are gone and must be remade for a new person, despite how difficult it will be.

  Some crimes of the heart are forgivable, no matter how awful they were. Others cannot be forgiven.

  Offering up my parents as the blood-price of freeing another female—not just a random female, but the one originally meant to take my place in his life—was not something I could easily forgive.

  No one risks my family. I don’t care the reason. I will kill or be killed for anyone with a blood relation to me, or even the hint that they do in Estin’s case.

  My mother once told me that I hold grudges too easily and for far too long. At times, I have sat down and thought on this and come to the conclusion each time that I do not hold them too long, but instead, I do not react as harshly as I should to help me move past them.

  Feanne would never hesitate in any emotional matter. Phaesys would have been dead before he had been able to give an excuse for his actions.

  In that, I am not my mother. Whether that is good or bad…it is for you to decide, not me.

  Oria glared at Phaesys, refusing to release her grip on his shirt as his ears slowly drooped. He had not said a word in a while, but she knew there was only so long he could avoid looking at her. Guilt was finally starting to wear at him, but Oria’s patience was departing far faster. She had no desire to stay in the palace one minute longer than she had to and he was dragging it out.

  “Swear to me you’ll answer three questions honestly,” she finally told him, though he gave no indication he was listening. “Just three, then I will leave you alone.”

  Slowly, Phaesys turned his head so that he was watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I agree. No more lies. I will answer truthfully.”

  “By your honor.”

  Phaesys’ whiskers trembled, but he nodded.

  Picking her words carefully, Oria a
sked, “Your betrothed is dead. Has been a while, judging by her smell. Was everything…was what we had just you trying to find a way back to her?”

  Phaesys’ ears sagged and he closed his eyes.

  “No, but I don’t expect you to believe me,” he admitted. “My duty was to find her at any cost. I owed her that.”

  “Had she been alive, then what?”

  Oria let Phaesys collapse to the floor, putting his face in his hands.

  “My plan was to honorably end the marriage pledge. Doing so without finding her first would have been disgraceful and I could have never forgiven myself. Being with anyone else would have been a crime of conscience.”

  Kneeling in front of Phaesys, Oria forced his chin up to make him look at her. “What point was there to ending it, if the female you were with would hate you for the rest of your life for betraying her parents to the man that murdered her brother? Maybe you should have planned to run away with her instead. It would have been better for both of us.”

  “I thought,” he hesitated, trying to find the words. “I really thought that maybe they could find a way to kill him. I knew it was risky with just the three of us, but your parents have fought his kind before. They’re far smarter than I am and I just wished…”

  “You were just hoping that you could betray them and they could find a way to bail you out of the mess you created,” Oria finished for him, slapping him across the face. “You disgust me, Phaesys. The idea that I loved you, when the whole time you were planning to give my family to that monster…”

  “I still love you, Oria,” he answered softly.

  Growling, Oria walked over to the mangled body of the female fox. Grabbing her by the scruff of the neck—while trying to ignore the chill of the flesh in her hand—Oria threw the body at Phaesys’ feet.

  “Was that worth giving my family up? Worth giving me up?”

  Phaesys turned away, trying not to look at the body. “I had no way of knowing what he had done to her, Oria.”

  Pointing toward the massive body of Ulra, Oria answered, “That is what he does to us. To everyone. Turessians have no respect for our dead. They’re just more tools to them. No one in their right mind would believe that Arturis would keep your wife-to-be alive for months, just because it was convenient for you!”