The Last Survivors (Book 4): The Last Command

by Bobby Adair

  Oliver looked up and down the road. Some women stood at the edge, looking into the forest, brandishing makeshift weapons.

  Screams from the forest made it clear that some of the women had been kidnapped.

  A dozen militiamen came running up the road. There was an exchange of words. The women pointed into the forest to implore the militiamen to chase the demons and rescue the women.

  None of the soldiers pursued the demons into the woods.

  Shaking and covered in blood and dirt, Oliver located the woman he'd been talking to. She lay dead on the ground. Her vacant eyes stared into the sky. Her gray hair was matted with blood.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Oliver shuddered.

  Chapter 2: Melora

  "It's beautiful," Melora whispered.

  Melora, William, Ella, and Bray walked with their heads tilted upward, temporarily forgetting the danger of the Ancient City. They were on an endlessly straight ancient roadway with tall buildings on either side of them. The forest had faded behind, giving way to rows of ancient stone, evenly spaced and swathed in thick yellow foliage. Deep, dark gaps in the sides where windows had once been spoke of hidden treasures, waiting for adventurers to seek them out. The windows extended all the way to the rooftops, where white-tailed hawks circled the crumbled remains of the buildings. In the distance, roadways curved off from the main one, leading to unknown destinations. They passed building after building, each as remarkable as the next.

  "I can't believe we're here," Ella whispered to Melora.

  Melora wondered how many people had walked the streets before her. What had the Ancients looked like? How many had lived in each building?

  Did each of the Ancients have his or her own?

  Several times, Melora envisioned human faces poking out of the dark recesses, ready to whisk her away and show her secrets. The thought of preserved, hidden treasures still lurking in the ruins gave her a sense of elation she'd felt only as a child. A smile stuck to her face as they walked further away from the forest, navigating around chunks of ancient stone.

  Ella pointed at the sky. "I've never seen so many birds."

  Melora looked up and saw them flying, or perched along edges of the buildings' roofs, squawking.

  "And so many rats," William added, pointing at the street ahead as he walked.

  Melora looked down at the rats a breath too late and tripped over a gutted carcass in the road, partially hidden and jutting out from behind a rock. She stifled a scream and caught her balance.

  "Be careful," Bray warned.

  Melora snapped to attention. She studied the carcass. Judging by the snout and the protruding, half-chewed ears, it was a wild pig. The animal had been caught in the clutches of a beast and devoured. She shuddered as she envisioned its final moments, torn apart at the hands of a heartless demon.

  "The same will happen to us if we aren't careful," Bray said solemnly. "We need to keep watch." He spat on the ground and kept moving.

  Sobered by the discovery, Melora straightened up and followed. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that Ella and William were close behind.

  "We need to find shelter," Bray reminded them. "Be on the lookout."

  Melora didn't need Bray to tell her to do the obvious, but she kept quiet as she looked up the face of a building with six rows of windows, like six houses stacked perfectly atop one another. Gargoyle cornices hung on either side of a weathered entrance. Beams with intricate carvings separated each of the massive floors. "How about that one?"

  "It's impressive," Ella agreed. "You can still make out some of the detail on the carvings."

  "But you can also see the path worn away by demon's feet at the door," Bray warned, pointing at the threshold.

  They continued past several more dilapidated buildings, stopping when William called their attention to something at ground level.

  "What about down there?" he asked.

  He gestured at a gaping hole in the earth to their right, obscured by dying brush. It appeared to be a tunnel, with walls made of cracked, ancient stone. A collapsed overhang shielded the tunnel from the elements. Several steps led into darkness.

  "We don't want to venture down there," Bray said.

  William guessed, "Did the Ancients live down there?"

  "Some people say that," Bray said, rubbing his chin. "Those tunnels run everywhere beneath the Ancient City. I've always stayed away from them. Lots of demons lurk down there. Although…they say the demons pile gold in mounds as tall as a man down there and have herds of naked virgins."

  William furrowed his brow. "Really?"

  Ella swatted Bray. "Don't listen to him, William."

  William relaxed his face. "You couldn't see anything without a light. And the demons would find you if you carried a torch. It wouldn't be safe."

  "Smart thinking," Bray said.

  "It's the perfect hiding place for the demons," William said, prompting a suspicious glance from the Warden.

  Melora stared into the blackness, trying to imagine what manner of horrors and treasures might lie underneath the city. The familiar odor of demons floated up from the tunnel's bowels. A long, shrill cry sounded from deep within.

  She shuddered as Bray waved them on.

  Melora scanned the nearby buildings for something less ominous, but still defensible. The structures in the immediate vicinity were tall, although not as magnificent as the ones deeper in the city. Some were better preserved than others, but most were choked in wiry vines and invaded by tree branches. She cast a glance behind her, noticing that they'd traveled far enough away from the forest that the trees had become a green blanket covering the foothills in front of the mountains.

  "We should keep near the forest," she said, feeling a familiar nostalgia for the wild. "Then we can hunt for food."

  Bray followed her gaze. "As soon as we find a suitable building, we'll stop. Hopefully, it'll be soon."

  "I'll keep a close eye for a building without trails in the dirt," William offered. "And places without animal bones or demon droppings."

  "Sounds good. We'll need a structure with lots of visibility, but with tight entrances," Bray advised. "That way we can guard them and look out for demons and soldiers. We can fortify the windows and doors once we settle in. Then we can get some rest."

  William looked at him curiously, a question on his face. "Do demons sleep?"

  Bray stroked his stubbly chin. "They sleep a lot less than people. They usually keep moving so they can hunt. Though some of them have been known to return to the same spot. Some of them lay claim to particular buildings."

  "Almost like houses," Melora said in awe.

  "More like nests." Bray shook his head in disgust. "If you stumble on one of those, you'll know it."

  "How?"

  "The stench will make you retch."

  Melora wrinkled her nose. "Maybe we can stay on the roof of one of the buildings." Her suggestion called to mind the story told to her by Roger, the settler she'd stayed with after fleeing Davenport. He'd hidden on one of the ancient roofs during his time here.

  Unlike several of her friends, Melora wasn't afraid of heights. She had vivid memories of climbing the church ruins in Davenport, disregarding the adults' warnings. She fondly recalled climbing the bell tower at the outskirts of the Andersens' farm. She'd gone up with Rowan, venturing to the top until they could see the whole village. Rowan urged her not to, but she'd leaned out from the crumbled top, waving her hands in the wind and thinking she was queen of the world.

  With Rowan gone, she'd cherish that memory forever.

  "We'll figure out where to stay when we get there," Bray said.

  They continued traveling. After walking the space of several roads in Davenport, but coming no closer to an end, they reached an intersection where a thinner road ran parallel to the one they were on. Melora peered down the weathered, rubble-strewn street.

  "What's that in the distance?" William asked excitedly, pointing at a massi
ve structure a half mile away. Melora and Ella held their hands above their eyes. An enormous, circular building under the remnants of a dome occupied most of the road. Rusted steel girders curved over the top, some of them falling out of place and disappearing into the vegetation around the building's base.

  It was impossible to tell what it was from where they were standing, but Melora guessed it could fit all the people of Brighton.

  "Unbelievable," Melora whispered. "It's the size of several farming fields. What is it?"

  "Can we get closer?" William asked.

  "We're better off admiring it from here," Bray warned. "Years ago, the roof collapsed, and the inside puddled with rainwater and moss. Lots of nasty things live inside."

  "Why would the Ancients build something like that?" Ella asked.

  "Maybe they gathered there," Melora guessed. "Perhaps it's like the square we use for the Cleansings." She felt a tinge of nervousness as she spoke the words.

  "No," Bray said confidently. "It was used to watch games."

  "Games?" Melora asked.

  "Yes, like the harvest races or the pig pulls. There's a nickname for it among the Wardens who have ventured here. We call it the Ancient Circle."

  "The Ancient Circle…" Melora repeated, the words falling from her tongue. "I wish I could see what went on there."

  "The rules of their games are too complex for us to understand. They wrote whole books on them. Only a Scholar could read them, and probably no one alive today could understand them." Bray snorted. "Of course, we're here today, and the Ancients are gone. That has to mean something."

  Melora and William furrowed their brows. The Ancients were smarter than anyone. No one disputed it.

  "In one sense, you're right," Melora finally admitted. "I'm not sure how they had time to play games, with all the farming and hunting that needed to be done."

  Bray shrugged. "Maybe the merchants played."

  That statement triggered a thought in William. He cocked his head at Bray. "Why do you think the Ancients disappeared?"

  "Probably because they spent too much time with useless contraptions instead of catching food to feed themselves." Bray grinned sarcastically. "Come on, let's get moving before they tell stories about us."

  Chapter 3: Oliver

  It didn't make sense to Oliver. They'd only marched for half the day, and now the mass of cavalry, militiamen, and drafted townsfolk were spreading out in a field of tall, brown grass to spend the night. Soldiers went to work setting up tents in orderly rows. The townsfolk, many of whom never had the need to travel, many of whom had never been outside the circle wall, banded together around stacks of damp wood, which they hoped to turn into fires. Some had blankets propped up with sticks. A few, brave or stupid, went into the surrounding forest and strung their blankets over branches. The mutterings of those who stayed in the grass, well away from the tree line, all tended to agree that those in the trees were dooming themselves. The demons would come at night and murder them in their sleep.

  Oliver shuddered at the thought of demons creeping through the night to feast on his flesh. He missed the comfort of knowing the circle wall was out there, that the city guard watched the streets, always on the lookout for demons. The adventure Oliver had dreamed existed outside Brighton was so far mostly fraught with dread.

  Looking for a safe spot to make his camp, he walked amongst the thousands of women, boys too young to use a weapon, and men too old to carry one. None of the tradesmen, their apprentices, or their wives showed him anything but a suspicious glance. In their eyes, he was a burdensome boy for whom they didn't want the responsibility.

  Oliver had only the clothes on his back, some food in his bag, his knives, a bag of coins, a few relics stolen from Winthrop, and a single blanket. His choice with the blanket was to wrap himself in it and lie beneath the clouds, hoping they didn't turn to rain. Or to prop the blanket on some sticks to convert it into a tent. Either way, he expected to wake in the morning, cold and wet. If he woke at all.

  Finding Winthrop's tent was an alternative to bedding down among the camp followers. If Oliver could get into Winthrop's tent unseen, he could murder the slovenly hypocrite and sneak into the forest when he was done. He imagined if he did do the deed, he wouldn't stay in camp, so bedding himself down for the night would not be a necessity. He'd walk through the dark until he was so far away from the army and so far from Brighton that he'd never be found.

  The sound of demons howling in the forest—and the attack he'd faced earlier—made him worry about the viability of his plan.

  Campfires were starting to burn damp wood, and thick clouds of smoke floated through the camp without rising into the sky. Oliver passed through one cloud that had lost all of its warmth but still stung his eyes. He passed through another that left him smelling like he'd rolled around in the bowl of a pipe, wet with an old man's spit.

  Groups of men tromped into the woods with bows, hunters looking for game to feed the mass of marchers. Other bands of men armed with axes attacked the trees at the edge of the pasture. They groused about a cold night to come and looked at the sky with worry.

  That gave Oliver pause. What would happen if the unusual winter warmth turned back to cold and froze the mist into snow? Despite Oliver's humble life prior to coming into Winthrop's service, he had never slept without a roof over his head.

  He came to the part of the camp set aside for the militiamen. The neat rows of tents belied the sad shape of the canvas from which they were made. Though of a roughly similar tan color, the tents' cloth was worn and patched. Many had holes that had never seen a needle and thread.

  The militiamen grumbled and bellyached. None liked the camp followers, though whenever one of the Barren Women came into sight, the soldiers let their gaze linger and betray their thoughts. The older men who looked like they had the experience of many campaigns behind them complained that they'd never reach the Ancient City if it was the General's plan to bed down so early every day. The old soldiers wanted to march forth, face the demons in the ruins, and be done with it. They wanted to get back to their houses, warm fires, and wives. The younger soldiers sat on the ground and rubbed their feet, complaining about the march. Some questioned whether they should be out in the wilderness at all. Why not stay within the circle wall and let the hordes come to them? One of them chased Oliver off and told him to go back to his mother's teats.

  The cavalrymen that Oliver came across did not complain. Their uniforms, though damp, were clean from their time on their horses, well above the muddy road. They looked down on the militiamen with disdain in their eyes but said nothing of it. They were in their element, on their way to war, eager, even, but displeased to be babysitting such a mass of inexperienced militiamen and camp followers.

  When Oliver spied an enormous tent with a dozen fine horses standing behind it and two dozen stern soldiers surrounding it, he knew he'd found General Blackthorn's quarters. Far in front of the tent, much too far to provide any warmth, dirty militiamen were leaning long logs together into a pyramid shape. When they were done, they'd light a bonfire that would be visible from everywhere on the pasture. On the side of the bonfire opposite General Blackthorn's tent, a lesser tent stood, giving all the appearance of having been abandoned. Its front flaps whipped back and forth when the heavy air found enough strength to gust. A handful of guards stood near the tent, looking at it from time to time. They were only a grunt past apathy where the tent was concerned.

  Winthrop's quarters.

  Oliver walked slowly around the area, observing, learning. If he was going to kill Winthrop and get away with his life, he needed a plan.

  "Hey! Get out of here!" a guard cursed, shooing him away.

  Oliver turned his head, lest he draw any more attention.

  "Go back to the other side of the pasture with the other sluggards, where you belong!"

  "Sorry," Oliver muttered.

  "If I see you again, I'll give you a beating," the guard added.

 
Oliver cursed under his breath, wishing he were a full-grown man who didn't have to suffer the threats of bullies with swords.

  One day, he thought. One day soon.

  Chapter 4: Melora

  Melora tensed as a demon screeched in the distance. She held fast to her sword.

  She and the others found themselves among several pieces of fallen ancient stone, some as big as Melora's house in Davenport. In some cases, the stones had sunk into the dirt, creating massive holes surrounded by overgrown weeds and plants. Melora looked up. She bit her lip as she pictured hunks of stone falling from the tall buildings, crushing anyone beneath them. She looked back at the forest. It was even smaller than before.

  "It's like a maze," Melora said.

  "The stones will get thicker up ahead," Bray warned. "We'll have to be careful navigating around them."

  Bray was right. A few were short, but most stood taller than her, prompting her to keep her distance. Melora's fear was that something would jump out and attack. Scuttling sounds reminded her that rats lived in the gaps and crevices. She tensed at several such noises, certain that demons were close by.

  "Stay close," Bray warned.

  They moved as a unit, keeping only enough distance to swing their swords. William's sense of wonder seemed to have faded. He hung next to Bray in fear while Melora and Ella traveled behind them.

  A gasp from Ella forced Melora to a halt.

  Melora spun.

  Ella raised her sword. A demon had clambered onto a nearby rock, hissing as it prepared to leap. Ella cried out. Without waiting for it to attack, she charged at it, swinging her blade, cleaving the beast's ankle. The demon yowled and pitched to the ground. Melora leaped to her aid, spearing the demon, finishing it off.

  More cries implied more beasts were coming.

  "Come on!" Bray urged, weaving between the rocks.

  Melora and Ella kept close, panting as they hurried through mounds of stone. Melora felt like she was in an ancient trap, navigating a path to which only its creators knew the ending. She whipped around rocks, praying their speed and constant change of direction would throw off any demons. Demon cries were everywhere, but with the rocks obscuring her view, she couldn't tell from where they were coming. Underneath one of the huge stones, she saw a broken arrow and an emptied traveler's bag; evidence that someone else had been here and possibly perished.