by A. C. Cobble
The girl had gone to bed quietly that night, soft sobs emanating from her bedroll, but since daybreak, she’d been pestering Ben. Alternating between questions about their mission and how they’d healed her leg. Thankfully, she’d dropped the inquiry on her leg when he offered to put it back like they’d found it.
The girl wasn’t stupid, and while she was barely lucid when they found her, she must know something strange occurred when she was healed. She avoided that topic but pressed him on others. When he got frustrated and stopped answering her, she would change the subject, and a bell later come back to her original questions. She avoided the women in the party, but apparently, Ben was fair game. Evidently, she decided he would spill his guts about their purpose. Nothing he told the pugnacious girl satisfied her.
He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was impressed with her tenacity. She’d woken up in the middle of a band of armed strangers after her men were slaughtered less than a day before. Her injury had been mysteriously healed, and there was a powerful lord who wanted her dead and was certainly searching for her. Through all of it, she was still focused on uncovering what Ben and his companions were up to.
Three days, he told himself. In three days, they’d pass near her father’s hold, and she would leave to give Lord Iyrron the news about the Red Lord sacking Indo.
* * *
“You brought her with us so you are responsible for her,” declared Amelie.
Thankfully, she’d lost the bitter edge around Lady Iyrron, but she wasn’t helping Ben with his plight. The girl was relentless, constantly following him around, constantly probing for more information.
“I just thought, as a fellow female, you could tell her to back off your turf,” Ben suggested gently. “I’m with you, Amelie, and she should respect that.”
“She’s not trying to sleep with you, Ben,” Amelie retorted. “She sees you as the leader of our merry little band, so you’re the one she’s going to pester.”
Ben scratched the back of his neck. “We’re doing this together, aren’t we?”
Amelie smiled at him. “We’re finding the Purple together, and we’ll fight the demons together. Any foreign conflicts you decide to involve yourself in, any damsels in distress you decide to rescue, we need to talk about first. You’re on your own with this one.”
“She’s right, Ben,” agreed Corinne. “You can’t involve yourself in some foreign highborn’s business and expect unquestioning support. Our mission is too important to get distracted with these little adventures.”
“You’re a foreign highborn,” accused Ben.
The huntress winked at him but didn’t respond.
Ben realized he wasn’t going to win the argument. He leaned back on his elbows and looked around their campsite. They were perched atop a low hill surrounded by a sea of thick, green grass. In the distance, stands of thin-trunked trees sprouted up, displaying bursts of small leaves.
Lady Iyrron told them that two bells walk to the east was a proper road, but with the Red Lord’s men possibly in the area, they’d been avoiding it and any other sign of civilization. Out here, despite the lush summer growth, there were no farms, no people.
There was plenty to forage, though. Animals, unbothered by people, were plentiful under the trees. Brightly covered fruits dotted many of the bushes, and Rhys was able to find several root vegetables they could roast. In the flight from Indo, they’d lost their packs and their cooking supplies, but they had their weapons to hunt with. Towaal and Amelie had no problems starting fires with their magic. The weather was warm and, after the storm, mercifully dry. Sleeping outside was pleasant. The only thing Ben missed was a water skin. Or even better, one full of ale. The terrain hid plenty of small streams, but without means to transport the liquid, they were reliant on finding the next source.
If it wasn’t for the panicked flight from Indo, the threat of Eldred, and the seriousness of their quest to locate the Purple and stop the demons, it’d have been a rather enjoyable journey. Ben grimaced and mentally added one more problem to his calculation as he saw Lady Iyrron returning from the stream at the bottom of the hill.
“By midday tomorrow,” declared Lady Iyrron when she arrived, “we will come across the village of Ayd. It’s not much, to be honest, mostly just a fork in the road, but they will have supplies for you to continue your journey. I will leave you there and go to my father.”
“Do you expect there could be trouble from the Red Lord’s men?” asked Rhys.
The girl shook her head. “The Red Lord is acting boldly, but I believe Ayd is close enough to my father’s hold that we should not worry. My father is strong still. The Red Lord will not risk a direct confrontation. I do not believe he intends to occupy Indo. He will destroy it then leave. My father will lose one of the two ports in his prefecture, which will severely limit the revenue he can raise to support his army. The Red Lord means to frustrate and wound us. In time, he will weaken us to where he can take our lands and rule our people. That will take years, though, maybe decades. After the attack at Indo, he will return to his own lands and see how we react.”
“Does the emperor do nothing?” wondered Ben.
Lady Iyrron shook her head. “If we are not strong enough to protect ourselves, why would the emperor bother to protect us?”
“Why do you bother with an emperor then?” challenged Ben.
“That is the way it is,” responded the girl coolly. “How is it in Alcott when the lords make war on each other. Does someone stop them?”
“There is no emperor,” answered Amelie. “Alcott is made of many lands, many nations, like how Ooswam and Qooten are different.”
Lady Iyrron frowned. “Qooten is not a nation. It is rock and dirt. It is filled with a barbaric people. They live in tents and have no homes. It is not part of Ooswam because the emperor does not wish it to be.” She glanced at Towaal. “Why are your friends so ignorant about your home?”
The mage thought briefly before replying, evidently deciding how much to tell the girl. “I was born in Ooswam, but it is no longer my home. It has been a long time since I lived here.”
“If you were born here, it is your home,” insisted the girl.
“Maybe so,” responded Towaal.
“Can you tell us more about Qooten?” Ben asked Lady Iyrron.
The girl eyed him. “Can you tell me more about this mission of yours?”
Ben made a snap decision and told her what they intended. “We’re looking for a group of mages.”
The girl glanced at her leg where Towaal had healed her. She hadn’t pressed them on it, and no one had told her what happened, but it was clear magic must have been involved. She took a deep breath then let it out slowly.
“Mages are bedtime stories in Ooswam,” she admitted. “Many in the peasant class do not believe they exist. The noble class knows of the City and the Sanctuary, of course, but even in that enlightened group, mages are thought to be manipulative and power hungry. Never accept help from a mage as you’ll certainly find yourself giving more than you got, or so the stories would tell you. Most people in Ooswam who do know mages exist want nothing to do with one.”
“Manipulative and power hungry,” responded Towaal. “That’s a fair assessment of the Sanctuary, but not all mages.”
“These mages you seek,” asked Lady Iyrron, “you are certain they are in Qooten? There are no mages there that I am aware of. Surely, the emperor would be interested if there were. Why do you seek them?”
“We’re not certain they are in Qooten,” admitted Ben, “but if they are, we need their help to battle a threat looming over all of Alcott and likely here too. You are familiar with demons?”
The girl nodded. “We have demons in Ooswam. Rarely near cities, though. I’ve never seen one myself.”
“There was a device, something that made the demon threat manageable in Alcott,” explained Ben. “It was destroyed. Demons are appearing now in numbers that haven’t been seen for millennia. There are s
warms of them rampaging across the north of the continent. Hundreds of them are working together. We believe it is only a matter of time before they’ve grown in power to the point no force can stop them. The mages we seek in Qooten may be able to help.”
“Are you from the Sanctuary?” the girl asked Lady Towaal bluntly.
With a shake of her head, Towaal responded, “Not anymore.”
The girl seemed to make a decision she had been considering. “I will not oppose you.”
Ben blinked. “Uh, thanks.”
“When we get to Ayd, I will ensure you are provisioned for your journey into Qooten, but there are some things you should know.”
The fire popped and Ben jumped inadvertently. Amelie pinched him and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Ben rolled his eyes at her.
“Qooten,” continued the girl, “has no cities, towns, or even villages as you would know them. It is governed by the Dirhadji, a group of men who have dedicated their lives to combat. They’re nomadic, and from what I understand, they only stay in one location for a few nights. A few weeks at most. Their women are treated as chattel, the spoils of battle.”
She looked around the group. “You must be prepared to protect yourselves, because if you are unable, the women in this party will be taken. The Dirhadji use women like beasts of burden. They are kept as slaves who cook and clean. Powerful warriors keep harems for sex. Do not think I exaggerate when I say your lives will be worse than death.”
Ben looked at Rhys. The man had spent time in Qooten. He learned the Ohms there. Surely, he would have mentioned this previously.
Rhys winked at him and whispered, “You thought this was going to be easy? At least it’s not the Wilds.”
Ben grunted.
“Food and water will be difficult to find,” continued the girl, ignoring Ben and Rhys. “Most of Qooten is desert. Rocks, sand, and lizards will be all you see for days. Even if you do find water, it could be surrounded by a tribe of Dirhadji. They are unlikely to share without a fight. When they exhaust the water in an area, the tribes move. Whatever tribe your mages are part of is going to be just like the others, constantly relocating.”
Ben frowned. They physical challenges she described would be difficult but not impossible to overcome. Finding a particular group of secretive mages in a nomadic society, though, was going to be a problem.
“We have to do this,” declared Amelie. “No matter the difficulty. It’s too important to give up. Do you have any suggestions on what we could do?”
Lady Iyrron nodded. “Find a guide. Someone who knows the desert. Someone who knows the culture much better than I do but is no longer a part of it.”
* * *
The next morning, a bell away from camp and another two or three bells from Ayd, Lady Iyrron fell in beside Ben as they hiked up a gentle hill. She was walking normally now. With the help of Towaal’s healing, her leg only displayed a thick scar where she’d been injured.
The bladed spear she carried, a naginata she called it, was balanced on her shoulder. Her thick armor had been left behind at their first camp. The stuff wasn’t suitable for a long, cross-country journey, and it had been badly damaged in the battle for Indo.
“I am not interested in cavorting with you,” stated the diminutive lady. “You can tell your woman that she has no cause for concern.”
Ben coughed and nearly stumbled.
“I do not mean it personally,” assured Lady Iyrron. “I come from a very wealthy family. My father would be disappointed if I romped with a peasant.”
Ben glanced at her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I should say commoner. I understand people in the north are offended when called peasants, even if they are. I’m afraid my father would disapprove of a liaison with a commoner no matter the circumstances. He is from an older generation and is not as enlightened about these things as we are. Still, he is my elder, and I must respect him.”
Ben stared straight ahead, his face filling with heat. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the lady’s cynical assessment of a potential relationship. It came uncomfortably close to what Amelie said to him several months before.
“Your girl,” explained Lady Iyrron, “was giving me unpleasant looks this morning out of the side of her eyes. I am certain it is because of my interest in you. Tell her it is not sexual. That simply does not happen between highborn and common.”
Finally, Ben gathered himself enough to answer. He swallowed and then replied, “Yes, I believe she thought that once as well. I’ll assure her you have no interest.”
Lady Iyrron glanced at him uncertainly, contemplating his answer. Then, as highborn do when they didn’t understand something, she chose to ignore it.
“Now that we have that settled,” she said, “I want to know about the mage.”
Ben sighed. He was tempted to tell her that Amelie was a mage in training as well, but seeing the shock on the girl’s face wasn’t worth leaving another potential clue for Eldred.
He opened his mouth to respond when Rhys, who was leading them, pulled up short and started cursing.
Ben looked in the direction his friend was facing and started to curse as well.
Half a league away, flowing over the verdant green hills, was a black mass.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Milo nervously. He clutched his hands on his trident and frowned at the approaching shapes.
Rhys looked to Corinne. “You have the best eyes. How many?”
She held a hand over her brow for shade and grimaced. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five?”
“Damn,” muttered the rogue.
“These are the demons you spoke of,” queried Lady Iyrron, peering curiously at the approaching shapes. “The reason you are seeking the mages?”
“Yes,” replied Ben. “This many of them are referred to as a swarm. They’re extremely dangerous. Twenty-five of them could easily overrun a village, and they’d be a serious threat to most towns. They are faster and stronger than any human opponent you will have faced. It’s best if you stay behind us with Lady Towaal and Milo.”
“You are strong enough to stand against these creatures?” asked Lady Iyrron.
“We can try,” responded Ben.
Iyrron slung her naginata off her shoulder. “Just because I have never personally seen a demon does not mean I cannot defeat one. If they are as dangerous as you say, then my assistance is needed.”
“We need all the help we can get,” Corinne said to Ben.
He sighed and joined Rhys at the crest of the hill. Amelie, Corinne, and Lady Iyrron flanked them.
“I wish I hadn’t lost my bow,” grumbled the huntress.
“Me too,” responded Rhys. In a terse voice, he issued instructions. “We’ll have to make do with what we have. Ben, you hit them with the wind when they are ten or fifteen paces away. Towaal, do what you can while they’re down. Don’t worry about subtlety. We can worry about leaving clues for Eldred if we manage to survive this. Focus on the arch-demon first. With good throws with my long knives, I can stop two more of them, but after that, it’s blade to claw. Amelie and Lady Iyrron, stay between Ben and I. Stab anything that slips through our line.”
The swarm drew closer and nervous tension spread through the group. These demons appeared just like their peers to the north; thick, slobbering, dense muscle, sharp teeth. In the midst of them, an arch-demon kept pace. It was half-again as tall as Ben, and unlike other arch-demons they’d faced, this one wasn’t letting its minions run in front. They’d have to deal with the smaller creatures and their leader at the same time.
“What is that?” asked Lady Iyrron in a quivering voice. They’d finally found something that intimidated the feisty girl.
“That’s the arch-demon,” responded Ben. “Don’t get hit by it.”
Amelie fell into place behind Ben and Rhys. Lady Iyrron stayed by Ben’s side.
He glanced at her, but her eyes were straight ahead. Determination spread acros
s her face. Her knuckles were white on the haft of her naginata, but she’d dropped into a ready stance. Faint tremors shook her body. Ben gave her credit for not backing down.
He shook himself and turned to the demons. Iyrron had faced combat before if not demons. He had to remind himself that he’d seen her stand against the Red Lord’s men in Indo. He couldn’t let worrying about her distract him from the approaching violence. If he didn’t knock the creatures down with his wind, his friends would be overwhelmed in an instant.
The swarm closed, grass and dirt flying behind them as sharp claws dug into the lush turf. Frantic runs became leaping bounds, the creatures covering a dozen paces with each jump. The arch-demon strode forward, easily keeping up with its smaller minions.
The bright yellow sun, clear blue sky, and vivid green grass was a disorienting contrast to the black horrors. They belonged in the cold, grey winter of the Wilds. Not the bright summer.
At a hundred paces, the sound of the wind was wailing through Ben’s head, building easily into a crashing gale. He thought about the storm during the battle in Indo and the crescendo in his head soared higher, drowning out the sounds of his companions and even the snarls and shrieks of the demons.
At fifty paces, his eyes began to water, his body straining to release the power that was growing inside of him.
At fifteen paces, he swept his hand forward, willing the storm into a narrow channel. It burst directly into the face of the demons, catching most of them mid-leap.
Ben held his longsword in one hand and the other he kept forward, palm facing the demons. The power continued to flow through him, a torrential blast of force that smashed into the creatures. The smaller demons were blown back, mere leaves in a storm. Even the arch-demon stumbled, staggering away from Ben and his friends. Confusion and anger etched its face. Its jaw opened to roar at the shrieking gale that battered it back.
“Keep your eyes ahead!” shouted Towaal.
From behind Ben, a blaze of pure light exploded and then narrowed, focused on the arch-demon’s face. Its dark eyes flashed and Ben saw the steady beam of focused light reflected back at him. The huge creature bellowed an ear-shattering cry of pain and slumped down, its wings pulling forward, covering its eyes.
