by Jim Galford
The next corpse was arranged similarly, though the man there was orcish and appeared to have been gutted by knives. He, too, was long dead and already stiffened.
The last of the blankets revealed one of the human taskmasters Raeln had seen during his last visit, and unlike the other two, this one had been dead mere hours. A thick leather leash was tied around his throat and his eyes bulged from trying to gasp for breath.
A faint scrape behind Raeln alerted him as someone advanced quickly on him. Before he could fully turn, he saw Greth leap into the room, holding a mangy-looking wildling that snarled and flailed to get free.
Raeln’s hopes surged briefly, until he identified the wildling as a mountain lion, who looked to have been through a horrible fight that had broken his jaw and left it twisted and gruesome.
“Calm down!” Greth snapped, shoving the wildling against the wall hard enough the scrawny man fell to the floor, twitching and covering his face. “We’re not with the Turessians. We’re friends.”
Raeln glanced away as the cougar wildling relaxed a little, easing his hands away from his face and down toward his belt. On a whim, Raeln looked at the freshest of the three corpses, realizing if he were a slave, that would be the first person he attacked to free himself. “Is that your…?” he began just as the cougar leapt at Greth, holding one of the leather leashes from near the door.
Despite his thin and haggard appearance, the mountain lion moved fast, catching Greth off-balance and sweeping the leash around his neck. The panicked wildling tugged and tried to throw Greth to the floor, but Greth caught hold of the leash and yanked it free of the man’s grip.
Greth kicked the man’s legs out from under him, then dropped to a knee to punch at him until he stopped squirming. After three powerful strikes, the cougar backed down as though he were going to relent. He then drew a makeshift knife from his shirt and slashed wildly. Without hesitation, Greth hooked his arm around the neck of the wildling and locked it with his other hand. Baring his teeth as he strained, he held the man until he stopped fighting. Sighing, Greth let him flop to the wooden floor with a boom, staring blankly at the wall.
“Sorry,” offered Greth, not to the cougar man but to Raeln. “I don’t give crazy many chances to kill me before I put it down.”
Raeln came over and checked the fallen wildling, finding he was definitely dead. Shaking his head sadly at yet another death when the dead were already winning a war, he got up and went to Greth. He put his arms around the man and pressed his forehead against Greth’s cheek. “You’re all right, which is all I care about,” he said, clinging for a moment before stepping away, remembering there were a lot of people outside the building who needed watching out for. “Where is Ilarra?”
Greth yanked the leash off his neck, scowled at it, then threw it aside. “She’s on the porch. I smelled something and wanted to make sure you didn’t get caught in a corner just because your sniffer isn’t as good as mine.”
Raeln hurried back to the porch to find Ilarra leaned against the wall of the building, though she seemed to have fallen unconscious again. Nausea made Raeln’s stomach clench as he looked over the elven girl he had long considered his sister. He had tried to avoid looking at her since he had woken and first gotten a glimpse, but here it was unavoidable.
Ilarra had lost an entire arm, leaving a burned lump of flesh at the shoulder with a bit of white bone protruding. Her right hand had several dark burns as well, the flesh charred almost down to the bone. Sections of her dress hung oddly where her ribs stuck out without flesh to cover them. Below, one leg stuck out from the dress, but the other ended at the knee where the skin had been scorched as well, crumbling into a small pile of ash on the porch.
“She had two legs when we left the wall,” Raeln said nervously, trying to decide what he could possibly do.
“Lost the other near the gate,” offered Greth, looking uncomfortable even saying those words. “It just fell off. When it hit the ground, it turned to dust. There was nothing to grab to bring to a healer.”
Raeln knelt at Ilarra’s side, wondering if it was even worth trying to take her inside. Any attempt to move her could make things worse.
“This isn’t your fault,” said Greth a minute later, putting a firm hand on Raeln’s shoulder. “People die. We all lose family. Her passing is…weirder…than most, but it’s still death.”
Footsteps approaching put Raeln on-guard, using his size to shield Ilarra. It took him only a second to see those approaching were Nenophar and On’esquin, the elf looking to Ilarra with fear and On’esquin mirroring the expression as he stared at Raeln.
“Is everyone alright?” asked On’esquin, coming up onto the porch. He seemed to be entirely ignoring Ilarra and Greth, studying Raeln’s various partially healed wounds. “We stayed behind to slow the undead that tried to follow your group.”
Raeln moved away from Ilarra, eliciting a nervous gasp from Nenophar as he got a good look at her. “Can either of you do anything for her?” he asked. “It’s getting worse. I don’t think she has much longer.”
Shaking his head, On’esquin sat down on the edge of the porch, his dried leather armor creaking every bit as much as the old wooden planks that tried to support his heavy frame. He looked around the camp briefly and began rubbing at his forehead with one hand while clutching the sword Raeln had given him tightly in the other. Despite having no visible wounds, the orc was clearly in a lot of pain and was trying to ignore it.
“I cannot heal something like this, either,” Nenophar added, wringing his hands. “My mother may be able to, though. I’m afraid she’s fled for the mountains already, so it will be difficult to call her back. Without her, I doubt we can face the Turessians or those elementals. I…I’m a child to my people. I do not have the magic to deal with this.”
Raeln lifted the edge of Ilarra’s dress to examine the damage to her shoulder more clearly, finding it continued to decay as he watched. A near-constant stream of ash fell from the blackened skin around the bone there as the burns slowly progressed up the skin toward her chest. “Can you at least tell me what is happening?” Raeln pleaded, sitting down hard.
“This is not a foe you can fight with fists, wildling,” Nenophar explained. “Turessians use magic to keep their bodies alive. That magic is nearly limitless, pulling from each other to ensure no one Turessian ever exhausts their power. Ilarra has been denied access to that magic by Dorralt, who I believe to still be in Altis. Until he gives her access to it, her body will continue to fall apart, much as yours would rot if you lacked the intrinsic life energy that keeps your heart beating. Healing is not what she needs now, but magic.”
As Nenophar finished talking, a small piece of bone fell off Ilarra’s shoulder. When Raeln picked it up, the bone crumbled between his claws. “Then you need to find a way to give her magic,” he insisted, punching the supporting post of the porch angrily and cracking it. Nenophar was right, he could not fight this, but that did nothing to diminish his frustrations. “You’re a wizard, do something.”
Nenophar continued to wring his hands, backing away a step. “My mother—”
“Your mother isn’t here!” shouted Greth, shoving Nenophar hard enough to knock him over. “If you give a damn about this girl, figure it out yourself! Hells, if you care about anyone from Lantonne, do it. We need her if we’re going to get away from the Turessians.”
Nearby, On’esquin chuckled dryly with his face in his hands. “You didn’t hear what I said to him when he arrived, did you?” he asked. “You don’t know who or what he is.”
Nenophar made a sharp noise in the back of his throat, silencing On’esquin.
Standing over Nenophar, Greth looked to Raeln for some guidance. He appeared more than willing to attack if given the signal.
“Can you help or not?” asked Raeln, no longer having the strength to do anything more. “If you can’t, then go away. If you can save her, do it, no matter what it means for you or the rest of us. I don’t care who y
ou are. Just help us.”
Nenophar winced and glanced nervously between Greth and Raeln, trying not to look directly at Ilarra. When he finally did look her way, all the fear vanished. Raeln could see without a doubt he had decided what he would do. The man might be distinctly odd, but he cared about Ilarra, whether he wanted anyone to know or not. To Raeln, the seemed to mirror his own situation with Greth.
“I need more space,” Nenophar told them, standing up slowly, so as to keep Greth from striking. “Bring her out to the clearing nearby. I believe I can work there. I’ve been conserving my strength for the last few hours. I might be able to do something to buy her time.”
Raeln hurriedly slid his arms under Ilarra, feeling more bone than flesh through the thin dress she wore. When he lifted, bits of burned skin and ash fell from every part of her body. He could feel her tremble, which let him know she was at least still alive in a sense. As he walked, she buried her face against his chest and mumbled faintly.
They crossed from the main building in the camp to a wide-open area near one of the fields littered with trash that spoke of a communal eating area. There, Nenophar stopped a little ways ahead of Raeln, turning in place to survey the place. “It should be large enough,” he told them cryptically.
Eyeing the open space, Raeln guessed it to be a hundred feet square. He had no idea what could require that kind of space unless Nenophar had some way of calling one of the dragons back to them. That, Raeln seriously doubted. After watching one die, he figured the odds of either of the others coming back was very slim, and Raeln certainly could not blame them.
“Set her down over there,” commanded Nenophar, indicating a spot near one end of the field. “Everyone gather near her. I don’t want anyone underfoot for this.”
Raeln did as requested and moved to the edge of the clearing. Once there, he lay Ilarra down, terrified by the grey pallor of her skin even in the dark night. She was no longer moving at all, even to breathe. “Hurry. She’s not looking good at all,” he announced loudly, trying to ignore Greth’s worried looks as he hovered nearby. “We may not have long.”
Raeln got no reply from behind him and turned to see what Nenophar was up to. Before spotting the man, he saw dozens of the other refugees were beginning to emerge from their newly claimed tents to see what the noise was all about. They ringed the clearing, attention firmly locked on Nenophar.
The wizard had already begun…something. What exactly he was doing, Raeln was at a total loss to explain. The man stood still at the center of the clearing, his arms at his sides and his eyes closed. Despite not moving, there was a sense of change and an almost tangible feeling of magic being used. There was nothing Raeln could point to as a sign of that, but it was almost like the air had become charged and drew one’s eyes directly at Nenophar.
The only person around that seemed disinterested and even bored was the orc, On’esquin. He sat down and picked at debris stuck in his armor.
As Raeln continued to watch, Nenophar seemed to almost fade into the night while a much larger shape around him grew more tangible. Raeln might have called it a silhouette, but he knew that was not the right word for what he was seeing. In a sense, Nenophar’s elven appearance seemed to be the silhouette and whatever was becoming more real around him was the truth.
Soon, the larger shape was more visible than Nenophar, filling most of the clearing. Crackles of stones being crushed and the dry ground sinking under the weight of the huge creature cut through the silence, those watching not making a sound. Then, the shape around Nenophar began to solidify, taking on color and depth as it blacked out the sky beyond it. With a deep breath that shook the ground under Raeln’s feet, the green dragon lifted its head to the sky and roared loudly enough Raeln had to clamp his hands over his ears and cower until the cry had faded.
Raeln lifted his head reluctantly, dreading facing one of the dragons that to that point he had only seen from a mile or more away. As he raised his eyes, he saw dozens of people all around the clearing dropping to their knees, pressing their faces to the chill dirt. The whole area went deathly silent, only occasionally broken by the whispers of the town’s escapees saying quiet prayers directed at Nenophar in supplication.
To Raeln’s right, Greth had likewise fallen to the ground, staring at the dirt with wide eyes that darted around nervously. Greth might not be religious, but having a dragon appear before him had instilled a moment of piousness he appeared not to know how to properly act out.
His knees trembling as he stood, Raeln rose to his full height and straightened his shoulders as he struggled to meet the gaze of the dragon. He understood the others’ desire to kneel, could feel the need in every muscle of his body, but Raeln worried any weakness might make Nenophar change his mind and abandon Ilarra. He owed it to her to at least pretend to be strong in the face of the only creature in miles that might be able to help her.
“You should kneel, if you don’t have a death wish,” whispered On’esquin somewhere behind Raeln, his raspy voice unmistakable. “That dragon’s family has no love for mortals and looks for excuses to smash them flat. This is not the time to be brave.”
The dragon might not have heard On’esquin, but his eyes narrowed and his head lowered until it was level with Raeln’s, his chin nearly on the ground. The dragon’s huge clawed front feet dug into the hard soil slowly as its head stretched toward Raeln. Do you have no fear of death, wildling? asked Nenophar’s voice coming from the direction of the dragon, but the creature’s mouth never moved. Even Turess knelt at my feet. His own brother, Dorralt, knelt beside him. Kings and emperors in generations before those two fools did likewise. Would you put yourself higher than them?
Raeln strained to keep his ears from flattening back and his knees from visibly shaking. As it was, he knew his tail hung straight, but he made himself meet the dragon’s gaze. His feet felt as though they were sweating as he kept them firmly in place. “Kill me if you have to, but save her first. I want to see my sister live before I die,” Raeln said, saying each word slowly to keep his voice from cracking. “I will not kneel and I will not beg. I’m asking for your help for someone we both care about.”
The dragon’s eyes shifted to look past Raeln to where Ilarra lay. Raising his head high over Raeln’s, Nenophar tilted his chin to aim his fang-lined mouth at Raeln in a posture similar to a snake ready to strike. For long moments, the dragon remained still, taking slow breaths as it studied Raeln.
Finally, Nenophar brought his head back down close, his hot breath warming Raeln against the cold night. “You do well by your sister, Raeln. I begin to understand why my kind would give up their immortality to die among your kind. I had always thought it a weakness in our kind, but it is a strength in yours that draws us in.
“My people do not sacrifice themselves for anything. My own mother has fled, while my brother died. A hundred generations of my kin have watched without feeling as their siblings chose to either enter an eternal slumber out of boredom or die like a mortal. Those are the only endings a dragon knows.
“My mother will not shed a tear for my brother, but in the willingness of your people to die for one another, I feel grief for him. If I could weep as I am, I would, but that is not something dragons are given to. Instead, I will give you what you ask for the only way I know how.”
Taking a slow step past Raeln and toward Ilarra, the dragon lowered his head until he nearly touched her. He began whispering something, moving his mouth to speak, unlike how he had spoken with Raeln previously. With each word, those around the clearing seemed to press themselves closer to the ground, though On’esquin and Greth gradually sat up to watch.
“Will this be safe?” Raeln asked without thinking, taking a step toward the dragon’s neck.
Nenophar’s nearer eye darted to Raeln. The anger in that look faded quickly, giving him a sad stare that told him all he needed to know.
Before Raeln could rush at the dragon, knowing full well it would mean near-instant death, Greth leapt
to his feet and caught Raeln with a hug that threw Raeln off-balance. “Let him try,” pleaded Greth, easing Raeln a step back. “She’s dead without the dragon’s help. If he fails and she dies right now, it will save her from a lot of suffering.”
“Is that what you would want?” Raeln asked him, shoving Greth off of him. “Would you really want to give up and die to avoid pain?”
Greth lowered his head and his ears drooped as he softly replied, “You know I would fight for years through pain if there was a chance of getting better or getting revenge. Look at the girl, Raeln. We can’t do anything to save her. Try and tell me she would want to live like this. Try and tell me with a straight face.”
Letting out a furious half-bark, half-growl, Raeln backed down and watched what Nenophar was doing. Unfortunately, his lack of training in magic gave him little clue about what was going on as the whispering continued. What he did recognize was Nenophar’s sudden gasp as he took a step back and began blinking hard as he finished talking.
The spell came to an end, and Nenophar eased himself back to the center of the clearing. He looked around with widely dilated pupils and seemed to not really see any of the people his gaze passed over. With a groan, he collapsed, his wings kicking up a cloud of dust and small stones that pelted the bystanders, forcing everyone to cover their faces as the dragon settled.
Raeln pushed past Greth, who stared in confusion at the fallen dragon. He ran past Nenophar, hopping a toe nearly as large as he was to land on the far side and slide on his knees to Ilarra’s side. She was breathing shallowly, but the burns all across her body and the two missing limbs were unchanged.
At his touch, Ilarra’s eyelids twitched, but that was all the reaction he got out of her. “What did you doNenophar?” he demanded, turning on the dragon.