Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

  Sinking further into a huddled ball, Phaesys did not even reply.

  “I offered you my neck in apology for offending you once,” Oria went on. “I almost wish you’d taken my head. Then I wouldn’t have to know what you were really like. I could have died thinking that you were a good male, who loved me and my family. You truly are no different from your father.”

  Approaching slowly so as not to disturb them, Norum motioned to Oria to get her attention.

  “What?” snapped Oria, grabbing her knives off of the floor, where they had fallen after killing the other wildling. “What could possibly be more important than me deciding whether to kill Phaesys, or us getting out of this city once and for all?”

  “Your parents went after Arturis,” Norum told her, sticking a thumb toward the stairs. “I wanted to give you time, but it’s been a few minutes. Much longer and they could be anywhere down below. The crypts go for miles in all directions. I need to know what you want me to do.”

  “I can probably find my parents without any problem,” she said, tapping her nose. “Are you retreating, or can we count on all your men down there?”

  “I’ll go where you want me to. I have nowhere else to go as long as Arturis holds the city. If we even have a chance, then I’ll follow, even if it’s suicide. I need to leave a few dozen men up here to keep the place from being overrun, but any that can be spared will come with us.”

  “Get them moving, then. Leave a guard force up here, but everyone else goes down the stairs,” Oria ordered. Then she turned back to Phaesys.

  Dropping to a squat, Oria leveled one of her knives at Phaesys’ face, though he did not make any effort to move away.

  “You will help us kill Arturis.” Phaesys slowly lifted his eyes to her as she spoke. “When this is done, I’ll let my parents—the people you betrayed—decide if you live or die, as it was their lives you endangered. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. Understood?”

  Phaesys nodded slowly and climbed to his feet. Looking around, he found where his sword had fallen and went to pick it up.

  “Oh, and Phaesys,” Oria began, catching his attention as he was lifting the large sword from the floor. “What I did to the soldier back at camp is exactly what will happen to you, if you ever come near me again after today. If you so much as touch me in passing, I will spread your remains over half the desert.”

  Sheathing his sword, Phaesys walked away, joining the other soldiers who were forming up at the top of the steps. Not once did he look back at Oria, making her wonder if her threats really meant anything. If he did not care, then sending him away was pointless. Deep down, she wanted him to still love her, even if it was only so that she could hurt him the way he had hurt her.

  Shaking her head at the foolishness of it all, Oria made an effort to put him out of her mind. Sadness welled at the back of her throat, but it was neither the place, nor the time to concern herself with the vague details of who she might have loved and whether he had betrayed her. Deep down, she chalked it up as yet another price of becoming an adult.

  “We need to hurry!” Oria called to the soldiers, pushing past them to take the lead down the steps. “My parents are down there with Arturis. If we can get to him as a group, we might be able to bring an end to all of this. We are not stopping for any reason. If you can’t keep up, you’re useless to me.”

  Oria took to the steps, running as fast as she could down them, often skipping stairs along the way. Behind her, she could hear nonstop clatter of arms and armor as the men attempted to keep up, intermingled with the occasional grunt as someone fell into others and had to be helped onto their feet to keep from blocking the staircase.

  Running until her legs ached and her chest burned, Oria kept going. More than once, she stumbled on the steep descent, but pushed all the harder each time she lost her momentum.

  About the time that Oria thought her legs would not take much more of the incessant pace, she nearly fell face-first as the stairs abruptly ended. Grabbing the edge of a stone that jutted from the wall to keep herself from falling, she sniffed the air, confirming that her parents had come through recently. No more than five minutes, if that long.

  Oria ran on, the stomping of boots behind her as the only confirmation she needed as to whether she still had soldiers backing her. It mattered little to her.

  The tunnel turned several times, though Oria followed the scent of her parents, not stopping to check the side passages that littered the catacombs. They did not concern her in the least.

  Finally, Oria came to a section of the tunnel where the bodies of several zombies lay. Most of them twitched and let out faint groans, but they were still barely “alive.” Sword wounds that had cauterized themselves appeared to be the main injuries, though a few small holes in their chests and heads told her there had been arrows used as well.

  Sniffing again, Oria smelled fresh blood. Elves. Someone had been wounded and they were not far off.

  “Keep an eye out for others,” Oria called over her shoulder to the group of soldiers behind her, pushing onward.

  Oria soon began to hear a commotion ahead. The ringing of metal weapons off one another, along with shouts and cries of pain, came from somewhere farther up the passage.

  Rounding another corner, Oria saw that the tunnel continued on, but an arched doorway on the left was the source of the noise. Seated in front of that door were Sirella and Lyra.

  Lyra was bent over her sister, wrapping cloth around a badly bleeding wound on Sirella’s arm. Scratches marred Sirella’s face and neck and there were bits of bone jammed into the links of her scaled armor. In other parts, the armor had been torn, leaving pieces dangling.

  Unlike Sirella, Lyra appeared to be fine, though her bow lay on the ground nearby, the wooden shaft broken.

  “What’s the situation?” demanded Oria as the soldiers following her came to a stop, coming to Sirella’s side. From what she could see, the woman was in no immediate danger, so long as the bleeding was stopped on her arm. If it was not addressed, the wound could be life-threatening.

  “Lots of zombies sneaking up on us from the side halls,” Lyra explained, not looking up from tightening the cloth. “The others are inside, fighting some kind of skeletons. I don’t recommend going anywhere near that battle. Crazy magic at work in there.”

  “And Arturis?”

  Lyra shook her head. “No idea. He was gone when we got here. Your dad just ripped down a solid wall of magic a few seconds before you arrived, so I think the fight really just started.”

  Oria started to move past them, but Sirella added, “There’s a dead wildling in there, Oria. Don’t know what happened, but I wanted you to know before you saw her…just in case.”

  Despite a clenching in her stomach at the possibility that her mother was wounded or dying, Oria went into the next room, followed by the group of soldiers. When she entered though, she froze and stared at the scene unfolding before her. This was not what she had expected.

  As Oria entered the room, the first thing she saw was one of the skeletons standing over a fallen soldier. The soldier screamed as the skeleton drove its sword into his chest, killing him. A second later, as the skeleton moved on to another target, the corpse of the soldier got back up on its own, snarling as it reached for its fellows. Already, three other men that had gone with her parents were lumbering around in a similar state, with deep unbleeding wounds.

  Looking around, she saw chaos everywhere. Among the raging battle between living soldiers and dead, four skeletons continued to attack, with a fifth shattered almost to dust on the floor nearby.

  Pursuing the skeletons, Feanne stood tall among the rest of the combatants, having changed into her lycanthrope form. While Oria watched, she scooped up a skeleton, bashing it to pieces against the wall. Howling as only Feanne could, she turned on the zombies, crashing bodily through them to scatter them from the living soldiers they were attacking.

  Estin was likewise changed, having taken on t
he same appearance as he had the day he had saved Oria and Feanne from Desphon’s executioner. White flames rose from his claws every time he struck at the undead and a brilliant white glow had consumed the orange of his eyes. As she watched, Estin waved an arm toward a pair of zombies and the shadowy humanoid shapes that swirled around him leapt toward his target, ripping the zombies to pieces almost instantly.

  Between the occasional magical attacks, Estin was rampaging nearly as aggressively as Feanne, something that seemed utterly out of place for him, especially as whatever had come over him had not drastically changed his physical appearance.

  Lying on the floor nearby, Lorne’s broken body rested in a pool of her own blood. Oria recognized the telltale signs of dark magic having been used to kill her. She had seen much the same brutal results on Finth, when he had been killed by a Turessian back near Altis.

  Shaking her head to clear the shock, Oria searched the room for a clear path around the battle that would not get her caught by either side. She soon noticed that the left side was mostly open, though two soldiers were near there, attempting to hold back one of the skeletons, which danced through combat, nimbly striking at the men, leaving wicked gashes as its sword darted to and fro.

  “Help them!” Oria told the soldiers milling about her, apparently breaking them out of their own surprise.

  Running and diving under a backhand slash by the skeleton, Oria twisted and ducked her way past the battle, slowly skirting the room toward the far doorway. She had nearly made it, when one of the remaining skeletons stepped between her and the doorway.

  Oria attempted to side-step the skeleton, but it kicked her legs out from under her and then slashed at her with its sword. Rolling away, she tried to find a clear path, but to her right was her mother’s feet, which could crush her without even realizing it, and to her left was the skeleton.

  Turning to try and dive back toward the soldiers, Oria was cut off again. This time, the skeleton brought its sword up for a fatal blow that she was not sure she could avoid in time.

  Stepping over top of her, Phaesys slashed hard with his own sword, deflecting the rusty weapon of the skeleton. Oria completely forgotten, the skeleton began attacking Phaesys with both its weapon and its claws, driving him back away from Oria toward the roiling battle at the middle of the room, clearing the doorway in the process.

  Taking that opportunity for what it was, Oria scurried away and out the far door, into the halls beyond. Though these passages were unlit, Oria picked her way along using the little bit of light that came from the room behind her. Soon, though, the tunnel grew brighter, allowing her to speed her pace.

  Oria came to a split in the tunnel. From both directions, she could smell that something had disturbed the dust, but the dim lighting came specifically from the tunnel to her right. Guessing that Arturis needed a lantern to see by—he was, after all, just a human—Oria set off in that direction, following the curving tunnel that kept her from seeing more than a few steps ahead.

  Oria came to a halt as the tunnel brightened still more and she realized the light was headed her way. The flickering left no doubt in her mind it was a torch, so she looked around, finding nowhere to hide.

  Just as she was about to run back the way she had come, Oria saw the light begin to creep into sight. Rather than a torch, a billowing wall of glowing mist rapidly approached, sliding silently up the hall toward her. The mists would easily overtake her position within a minute.

  Oria was transfixed as the mists drifted toward her, the flickering glow of the thing drawing her attention and holding it. Her mind warned her to run, but she could only stare.

  In the mists, Oria saw shapes, places, even people, though all were too brief to make out as she finally broke her trance and forced herself to back away.

  Oria hurried back to the split in the tunnel, choosing the other path. She could hear the soldiers shouting orders. They would not be long, so she no longer had any fear of going after Arturis alone. Deep down, she wanted a chance at the man that had killed her brother, but was not so foolish as to believe she could do it by herself.

  Before leaving the split, Oria slashed a simple arrow on the wall with her knife, hoping that it would be enough to direct her parents away from the mists and toward Arturis.

  Though slower than before, Oria hurried down the remaining tunnel, hoping to be quiet enough to get the drop on Arturis. She was not sure what she would do when she did reach him, but she also did not really care. Somehow, she would punish him for what he had done to her brother and what he had caused between herself and Phaesys.

  Rounding another corner, Oria stopped as she came within mere feet of Arturis, who was shaking his head, staring at a collapsed section of the tunnel. Slowly, she began to inch backward, hoping to find a better chance to ambush the man.

  Her foot came down just slightly wrong and Oria winced as a piece of brittle stone cracked under the pad of her foot.

  “Just one of you,” said Arturis, turning from the pile of stones that blocked the whole tunnel. “This is why I find your family so entertaining. No matter how bad I make things for you, you continue to put yourselves in harm’s way. Absolutely fascinating.”

  Arturis walked slowly toward Oria as she backed away, her knives no longer feeling like any kind of assurance. Deep down, she wondered why she kept putting herself in these kinds of situations.

  “I would dearly like to torture you and leave your remains in a clever place for your parents to find,” the man went on, raising a hand toward Oria. “However, I am on a tight schedule, thanks to turning down the wrong passage. I do hope you understand.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Arturis said something in that all too foreign language of magic. Heat flashed through her grandmother’s ring, but nothing else happened. The man’s smile slowly faded away as he stared at her.

  “What is this?” Arturis demanded, looking Oria up and down. “You should be dead.”

  “I’m not,” she pointed out, trying not to grin at him. The ring only had one purpose: to absorb death magic. It had saved her mother during the last battles near Altis and now was proving its use once again. It had its limits, but Arturis did not need to know that. “Maybe you should try harder. We wildlings are a hardy people. A little more turn to the wrist…I think you got the magic wrong.”

  Clenching his jaw, Arturis flung his hands at her again. Once again, the ring warmed, nearly burning her finger. As before, the enchantments on it absorbed the attack, leaving her alive and mildly amused as she continued to inch away from Arturis. She moved her hand behind her leg to hide its shaking as she tried to ignore the burning.

  Distantly, Oria could hear the others approaching. She just needed to buy a little more time. Then, the Turessian would be trapped and her parents could finish him off. Oria had no illusions that she could beat this creature by herself.

  “Do your people run out of magic? Maybe you’re too old and it’s not as strong as it once was. I heard wizards have trouble with spells after a certain age. If you want to rest a little and try again, I’ll understand.”

  Arturis lunged at Oria, grabbing her by the lower arm. Hoisting her off the floor, he tightened his grip until she screamed, dropping her knife.

  “I am not an idiot, slave,” he told her, walking back up the hall with her feet dangling off the floor. “I can just as easily pop your head off. If I must walk into your little army, I may as well wait until they can watch.”

  Oria clawed ineffectually at his hand, trying to free her arm, but without her claws fully regrown, she could not even pretend to affect him. Desperate, she brought her feet up and raked Arturis’ stomach with the claws on her toes, shredding his shirt, but doing nothing else.

  “Stop your foolishness. We will see your family soon. Then you can join your brother. I can’t wait to see what your father’s face looks like this time. It is precious, the expressions parents give when they get to see their children’s insides.”

  Looking around, Or
ia saw that they were getting close to the split in the tunnel again. There would only be a minute before Arturis reached the others. Deciding against sparing herself, Oria opted to be sure that they were ready to destroy the Turessian.

  “Mom! Dad!” she screamed. “He’s coming!”

  Stopping mid-step, Arturis chuckled and lifted Oria’s face to his. “That was something I did not need you to do. Learn your place and do not speak when your betters are working.”

  Swinging Oria like a child’s doll, Arturis slammed her into the wall and then released her arm and let her fall to the floor as he continued down the hall.

  Oria groaned and rolled onto her knees, but could not stand. Her head pounded and her back and ribs felt as though they had been broken. Touching her head near her left ear, she felt wetness all through the fur.

  Dizzily looking up, Oria saw that the tunnel wall was smeared with blood. She was hurt badly, but thankfully was so dazed that she could not feel most of it.

  Using the rough wall to pull herself up, Oria stumbled slowly down the hall, trying to follow Arturis. He had already made it past where she could see, but she could not hear combat yet, telling her he was not quite to the main force that was coming for him.

  Distant conversation made Oria look up and she nearly fell when she did. She felt nauseous and blood had begun to run down her shoulders. It would not be long before she blacked out, but she wanted desperately to see Arturis die.

  On shaking legs, Oria slid down the wall, making slow but steady progress. Aside from the talking, she still could not hear much. Soon, she could even see the intersection, with the bright glow of the mists nearing from the other direction.

  “…away from the door, or the girl will die,” Arturis was saying, when Oria was finally close enough to make out the words.