“That’s correct,” Tridian affirmed. “Unfortunately, it was just about the extent to which my father realized his goal. He was able to reclaim the land up to the Sandstone Mausoleum, but he had hoped to spend several years after that spreading his influence until all of the Arid Reaches was under his control—years that he never got to see.”
The Prince of Tordale went silent for a few moments after referring to King Aurilion Hokara’s untimely death. When he began to speak again, the anger and bitterness that he previously showed had returned. “What has bothered me so much about seeing this town is that it also reminds me of the ignorant people who chastised my father for his mission.”
“But they must have been only a very small minority,” Alamor offered, almost in an attempt to sooth Tridian. “Your father’s judgment was revered by the people throughout the kingdom.”
“They were a minority, yes, but they were very vocal about their disapproval, especially because many of them were the very politicians that my father consulted with on a regular basis,” Tridian said. “They were also very cruel with their words, often referring to my father as being ‘naïve’ or ‘blinded with ambition’. If it had been a different man sitting in my father’s role, he may have had those people imprisoned for slandering the King of Tordale. But those fools knew that my father was too honorable of a man to ever consider punishing someone simply for their dissent, so they criticized him often, in public, and even in his presence.”
It was a difficult thought for Alamor to accept. “I can’t imagine how anyone rational person could have ever felt that way about your father.”
“I used to think the same,” Tridian replied. “But I eventually learned that in this world, if some people adore you, then it likely means that others hate you.” The Prince of Tordale stopped in the middle of the road, where a mound in the sand sat just before his feet. He stared at it for a few moments before drawing his spear. “Those who mocked my father’s mission believed that it was a waste of the kingdom’s military and resources,” Tridian went on. “I remember some of them saying that the lives of the peaceful folk in the Arid Reaches were not worth any sacrifices we may make to protect them, whether it came in the form of our money or our soldiers.”
As he finished, Tridian stuck the butt of his spear into the mound’s base and began to lift. Alamor watched with curiosity as the Prince of Tordale pried free whatever lay beneath. When enough of the sand had slid away, it revealed something wrapped in an old, ashy cloak. Initially, Alamor had not been sure what it was, until he noticed the skeletonized hands and feet reaching out from underneath the cloak. As he looked over the rest of the shape, he realized it was a long-perished body lying face-first in the sand.
Alamor felt his body grow cold for a moment as he looked back the way they came. He only now noticed several other small mounds rising in the sand. When he looked ahead, he saw even more.
Tridian gently set the body back down. “Maybe if those politicians had seen the horrors that haunted this region, they would have thought differently of what my father was trying to accomplish.”
Putting away his spear, Tridian started forward without another word.
Alamor did not immediately follow, but stayed behind as he tried to fend off the grim sensation that fell over him. While continuing to glance about at his ruined surroundings, he noticed a nearby home that was missing almost half of its façade—decimated by cannon fire, he presumed. He began to walk toward it, deciding that he needed to place his thoughts on something other than the grisly discovery that Tridian made in the streets.
When he came to the house, he ascended a wall of sand that built up against the ruined façade. Alamor slid down the other side and landed in a large, shadowy room. It was almost completely empty, save for debris that had been tossed inside by the wind. The room itself seemed to make up the entire first floor of the building; there weren’t any kind of closets, cupboards, or other alcoves as far as Alamor could spot.
The layout of the room supported Tridian’s earlier assumption that the people of the town had not been very wealthy. The simple design of the home’s interior suggested that the townsfolk did not have the knowledge or materials necessary to construct a house as other humans throughout the kingdom did. What little furniture that did fill the space was decrepit, and likely had been that way long before it sat neglected for years after the town was ransacked.
The only thing of note inside that Alamor could discern was a stairway in the far corner that climbed to the second floor of the home. But as Alamor started to approach it, he finally noticed that the room was not entirely empty.
Crouched within the shadows beneath the stairs were the remains of two more townsfolk. They lay slumped against the wall, their skeletons wrapped in cloaks that were made out of some kind of thick, coarse fabric. Unlike the body that Tridian unearthed, their heads were not covered. The empty eye sockets in their skulls stared back at Alamor blankly. Their jaws lay agape, as if uttering a silent scream for all eternity.
It was like the skulls were a reminder of the gruesome fate that had befallen the two people.
This was not the first time that Alamor had seen a human skull. In addition to the huge, undead warrior that he battled in Vosk Woods during his and Raissa’s trip to Tirth, he had seen one many years ago out in the Plains of Oston while returning to Geldiar with several other soldiers after a scouting exercise. At one point they came upon an unlucky traveler who had not survived his trek through the countryside. His mangled body lay in a thick pack of brush, the victim of wolves or some other predator.
Back then, Alamor had been so aghast by the sight that he could hardly stand to look at it for very long. Now, he could stare at the skulls with relative calm, even though he still felt a chill run over his skin as he gazed at the dead bodies.
Meanwhile, one question continued to repeat itself in his head.
What actually happened to this place?
His thoughts were broken a few moments later when he heard a deep, baying noise somewhere outside. He turned and hurried out of the destroyed home. When he emerged from the wreckage, he tried to spot the source of the strange sound, but to no avail. He only saw Tridian standing nearby, glancing about with a similarly concerned expression on his face.
“Did you hear that?” Alamor called out to him.
“Yes, but I have no idea where it came from,” Tridian answered, as his eyes bounced in all directions.
The noise rang out once again. Alamor was certain that it came from some kind of animal, but he could not imagine what, or where the creature may have been. His and Tridian’s views were blocked by the many tightly packed buildings surrounding them. He hurried back over the wall of sand, into the destroyed house, and ran up the stairs to the second floor. It granted him a better view of his surroundings. Not only was a section of the roof missing, but so were the walls for about half of the upper room. With the missing portions of the house acting as one great window, Alamor began to search the nearby streets in an attempt to discover what may have made the mysterious sound. It was only once his eyes looked beyond the town, itself, that he finally spotted its origin.
A little more than a hundred yards from where he stood, a herd of unfamiliar animals grazed peacefully at a grove of palm trees on the outskirts of the ruined settlement. There may have been thirty or more. They were fairly large creatures, shaped liked elk, but with far longer necks. Their legs were also very long, and ended in feet that resembled hands, based on the gap between each lanky toe. Rich, brown fur ran over their bodies, while a set of white stripes raced over their thick flanks. Their heads featured a pair of drooping horns that ran down over the back of their necks.
It took Alamor a few moments to realize that he had seen these creatures before—at least on Joth’s shield. These must have been the Grimali that he and Joth had spoken about those many weeks ago. Alamor smiled and nearly began to laugh to himself after initially being worried about what was making the baying c
all that the Grimali occasionally uttered.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he came to the very edge of the second floor and stopped to watch the peaceful beasts. They did little more than stand in one spot and casually grab leaves from the palm trees—which they then chewed on for what seemed like an excessive amount of time—but Alamor quickly developed great interest in the Grimali. He found them to be beautiful creatures, particularly because of how they had adapted to survive in a region as unforgiving as the Arid Reaches. Using their long necks, they were able to reach food that would have been inaccessible to most other creatures. If by some chance that was not enough, their hand-like feet were able to clasp onto most surfaces. Alamor noticed some of them place their front feet against the palm trees’ trunks to stand just a little bit higher in order to grab the leaves that lay at the pinnacle of the trees.
The grove was perhaps the lushest sight that Alamor had seen in his days traversing the Arid Reaches. The palm trees’ trunks appeared thick, and their long, green leaves were in stark contrast to the brown, dry surroundings in most directions. They were nourished by an oasis that lay at the town’s edge. Water bubbled up from an underground spring, filling most of a sizable crater. Alamor imagined that this natural reservoir was even more bountiful in the time before Scourge blighted the region. It explained why such a large town had been built in this particular spot. Even if the people living here were poor, a water source like the reservoir ahead was a certain means of survival in this perilous corner of Tordale. It gave life to both humans, and the creatures who managed to somehow thrive in the desert, like the Grimali.
Joth had been right, Alamor realized, recalling their conversation during their march through Sleekleaf Forest—“You can’t truly appreciate them until you see one in person.”
In the middle of marveling at the Grimali, Alamor remembered that Tridian was still standing in the streets, unaware that they were the source of the baying noise. He was just about to call out to the Prince of Tordale and inform him of his discovery before someone else’s cry interrupted him.
Alamor recognized it as Hinton’s voice, and when he turned, he spotted Hinton and Pauma racing through the cluttered streets and alleys. He was initially perplexed to see the Bachus running full speed across the town, until he noticed a pair of shapes no more than thirty yards behind them. Alamor’s eyes squinted, and he was finally able to discern that they were two dog-like beasts who pursued the Bachus—no doubt with vicious intentions. Their short, ocher fur helped them blend in with the sand, and made it somewhat difficult for Alamor’s eyes to follow the desert hounds. They appeared to be about the same size as wolves, although their bodies were thinner, likely nature’s way of granting them superior speed to hunt down their prey.
Hinton and Pauma were plenty fast on all four paws, Alamor knew, but likely not fast enough to evade the wild dogs forever. Were it not for the twisting streets and copious debris that obstructed the paths, Alamor was certain that the Bachus would have already been overtaken. He knew that Hinton and Pauma would need help, and as quickly as possible.
Alamor had nearly turned and began toward the stairwell before he then heard a chorus of the Grimalis’ cries in the distance. He looked out to where the herd had gathered at the town’s outskirts. The once calm Grimali had seemingly gone into a panic, shuffling about madly and trying to push through one another. Alamor then noticed movement not far from them—four more of the wild dogs like those that chased after Hinton and Pauma, but these ones hurrying after the Grimali. It was not long before all of the Grimali began to move as one, the entire herd storming ahead into the town to escape the oncoming predators.
Alamor’s heart dropped as he realized that his companions were now faced with far greater danger than just two wild hounds.
He could not waste another second. Without thinking, he bypassed the stairwell and leapt clear from the second floor of the building he stood in. The thick blanket of sand that coated the town’s streets proved a suitable cushion for his landing, even though it still jarred his legs upon impact. Ignoring the pain, Alamor began a frantic dash down the street in the direction of the Bachus. He looked back for just a moment to shout a warning to Tridian.
“There’s a stampede coming—run!!”
Tridian did not offer a question or any kind of protest as he followed behind Alamor—a choice that may well have saved his life. The incessant, sonorous rumble of the Grimali stampede quickly overtook every inch of the air around them. When Alamor glanced back just a few seconds later, the frightened creatures were already in sight, less than fifty yards from him. They were an unstoppable wave of flesh and bone, threatening to overwhelm and destroy anything that got in their way.
“Alamor, we need to get out of the way!” Tridian called out over the booming sounds of the stampede. “We need to run into a building and hide!”
“No!” Alamor yelled back, his determined eyes set ahead. “Hinton and Pauma are being chased by wild dogs, we have to help them first!”
They ran down the street for a few more moments before Alamor decided to veer off and hurry down a series of shorter pathways in between several buildings. Although they wore more rubble and garbage across their floors, making it harder for Alamor and Tridian to run at full speed, Alamor hoped that diverting their path would at least let them evade the stampeding herd of Grimali.
When he spared a glance behind, he saw that his plan was only somewhat successful. The town’s layout was so disjointed, the buildings often packed so close together, that the Grimali could not all continue moving straight ahead. Like water flowing through a system of branching pipes, a handful of Grimali broke off from the main group and started to storm down the same path that Alamor chose. These Grimali seemed to run even faster now that they had been freed from the clutches of their herd, gaining on Alamor and Tridian with each of their long strides.
Luckily for the two young men, it was no more than a minute later when they saw Hinton and Pauma speed down the street just ahead of them. The wild dogs that chased after the Bachus were only a few paces from overtaking the Bachus, prompting Alamor and Tridian to take action at once.
In a single motion, Tridian drew his spear and hurled it at one of the ravenous hounds. Even without allocating a second to his aim, the Prince of Tordale struck his target square in the back and instantly brought its pursuit to a halt. The wild dog did not even have the time to cry out before its body went limp in mid-air and skidded across the sand.
The other beast noticed the wild dog go down. Upon seeing its hunting partner slain, it promptly lifted its attention from the Bachus to face Alamor and Tridian.
Alamor met this one, unsheathing his sword as he leapt toward it. He swung his blade in a powerful arc before his feet even touched the ground, and while the desert beast bounded out of the way of his attack, it never replied with its own. As soon as its paws found the street’s sandy floor, it turned and sped off in a different direction.
Alamor was certain why it retreated so quickly; he could hear the deafening sound of stampeding Grimali just behind him.
“Hinton, Pauma—get inside!” Alamor screamed as loud as his throat would allow him.
The Bachus heeded his warning and immediately dove to safety into a nearby building. As that happened, Tridian reclaimed his spear from the wild dog he killed and followed Alamor to a house on the side of the street. Both of them were so desperate to escape the impending stampede that they simply jumped through the open window on the house’s façade to get inside.
Moments later, the Grimali came charging by. Alamor felt the ground tremble beneath him as the Grimali stormed over the street, shaking the very house that he and Tridian found refuge in. As it felt like an earthquake suddenly struck the abandoned town, Alamor briefly worried that the rest of the dilapidated house would come crashing down around him and Tridian. He could not even hear himself think as he struggled to lift himself to his feet. The thunderous cacophony of every Grimali’s feet stomping across
the ground engulfed the surrounding area, and the only other noise that Alamor’s ears detected was that of the honking calls that the Grimali made as they ran on ahead.
Alamor eventually did manage to stand even as the ground continued to quiver, and he turned to look through the window at the passing stampede. A huge cloud of dust had risen while the Grimali raced over the town’s sandy floor, partially obscuring Alamor’s vision, but he could still see most of the charging herd.
He spotted the four wild dogs who had initiated their flight, in the first place. After chasing the peaceful creatures throughout half the town, one of the desert hounds finally chose to chance its luck and pounce at a Grimali along the edge of the herd. Unfortunately for the bold predator, it leapt right into a kick from the Grimali’s back leg. The blow carried such force that it reversed the wild dog’s momentum and flung its crumpled, lifeless body backward. Alamor could not decide if the Grimali’s kick had been an intentional attack, or an oblivious strike as the creature carried out its stride, but he was nonetheless amazed by its strength. He was just as amazed at the remaining wild dogs that continued to pursue the deceptively powerful Grimali even after watching one of its own be killed by a single blow.
Alamor was so captured by the scene that he did not recognize when both the quaking beneath his feet and the booming roar of Grimalis’ stampede finally began to wane. He only noticed it when fewer and fewer of the creatures hurried by him outside, until at last, the entire herd had passed by and continued running on through the town and out into the desert.
The hush that followed was almost eerie. After the thunderous roar that previously assailed his ears, Alamor found it strange to hear quiet once again; all that could be heard of the Grimali was a faint cadence in the distance that soon faded into silence. He and Tridian slowly—hesitantly—stepped outside, both of them not sure what to make of the calm around them following the chaos.
The cloud of dust and sand that had been kicked up from the stampede slowly dissipated, but that had not been the only thing lifted from the town’s floor. Both Alamor and Tridian quickly took notice of the dozens of skeletonized bodies that now lay out in the open throughout the street, the long-dead townsfolk unearthed from their sandy tombs by the passing Grimali herd.
A Gleaming Path Page 27
