by C. Gold
Thousands upon thousands of black, tentacle-ridden beasts—small, medium, and large—amble slowly but never stopping towards the village. They surround it and press against the village wall. First one hole appears and is easily defended. Then three, then twenty, then hundreds. The warriors pull back until their backs are defending the meeting hall. The non-combatants huddle in fear inside. Their cries are the only sounds as the silent mutations rush forth. They climb on top of one another in their eagerness to reach the fresh meat waiting. The first person bitten drops to the ground writhing while their skin blackens, starting at the puncture wound and slowly spreading until their entire body is black and bubbly. Like a puppet pulled by strings, the new corpse slowly rises and looks with dead eyes upon the man standing next to him who is too busy fighting to see the new threat. The corpse’s chest splits open, and a tentacle emerges. It lashes out and sinks spiny teeth into the warrior’s bare arm. He too collapses and like a chain reaction, unsuspecting death ripples through the defense. One by one each warrior drops and rises again as a dead thing. They open the meeting hall door and all too soon the shrieks of horror are silenced. Once the swarm finally leaves, only a blackened crater remains of what was once the Shae village.
“Are you ok? What did you see?” Amira took a moment to remember where she was. The concerned face looking down with his hand on her shoulder was someone she knew. Oh yes, that’s right. Ekewaka. “We have to run!” she cried out when she recalled her vision.
The elder looked deflated and broken. “I know,” he whispered softly and patted her shoulder twice before slowly making his way to the exit.
Amira looked around and saw that only Kaholo and his father remained behind. “What happened?” she asked.
“My father basically said the same thing—we will be overrun if we don’t leave. Then the meeting ended and everyone left. We stayed behind to make sure you were ok.”
Amira noticed his hands were trembling and he looked white as a ghost. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.
Kaholo looked at his father who gave a slight nod of consent. “We don’t talk of this to outsiders but you are like family now.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “In our language, the word Alashaesen, what we call ourselves, means Guardians of the Shae. It is our sacred duty to protect the forest. When we die, our spirits return there to live on. To leave… it is… how do you say?” He scrunched up his nose in thought. “Ah yes… we would become oath breakers. There is no worse fate.”
Amira was stunned. “But if you stay you will die.”
“Yes.” He looked like he expected her to understand but she didn’t, not really. To her, life was the most precious thing of all. The forest could be regrown but not its people.
Kaholo gave her a sad look. “We have to go now to prepare. You should leave in the morning if you plan on going.” Then he helped his father as they made a slow exit.
Amira’s heart felt ripped in two. When the tears came, she let them fall. Everything seemed so hopeless. Then she pictured Radcliff and suddenly she needed to touch him, to make sure he was ok. She may not be able to save the Shae forest or its people, but by whatever means, she’d save Radcliff or die with him. Wiping away the tears, she left the building with new confidence and burning purpose.
CHAPTER 14
The Angry Warrior
Radcliff slowly drifted awake. A light-weight warmth was pressing against his chest. When he was finally able to crack one eye open, he realized Nalani was using him as a pillow.
Just outside the dwelling a man began shouting.
It took a few seconds for Radcliff’s sluggish mind to connect the voice to a person. It was Maleko, and he sounded quite angry. Looking at Nalani, he could imagine one reason for that. After nudging her awake, he gently pushed her aside while she yawned and sat up in bed. Even though his head still ached slightly, the rest of him seemed fine so he risked standing. Relieved at the lack of dizziness, he looked down, saw he was mostly dressed, and quickly scanned the room for his foot wear. The increased volume of the ongoing tirade told him it wouldn’t be much longer and he wanted to at least be fully dressed when facing the warrior. His boots were placed neatly in the corner, probably Amira’s doing he thought with a smile. With a slightly shaky hand, he grabbed them and got them laced right before Maleko burst into the room like a thunder storm.
“Nalani—go home!” he yelled as soon as he spotted her.
She crossed her arms and thrust her chin out. “I want to make sure Radcliff’s ok.”
“Now!” he bellowed and pointed to the exit when she didn’t budge.
To stop things from escalating more than they already had, Radcliff knelt in front of her. “Hey,” he said to get her attention. “It’ll be ok. Your father and I have some things to discuss.” She frowned, clearly not believing him. “Trust me.” He mustered up a fake ‘it’s ok’ smile for her.
She gave him a quick hug and skirted around her father. “I hate you,” she hissed at his back before darting outside.
Radcliff opened his mouth to speak, but Maleko grabbed his jerkin and dragged him towards the exit. He pushed back, intending to break free, but the warrior grabbed his arm, flipped him around and pinned it behind his back.
“You’re going to pay, but not here,” Maleko growled.
Radcliff was frog-marched outside. “You don’t really want to do this,” he said, trying to avert conflict until he could come up with a better plan.
“Oh yes I do. This is all your fault. They don’t see through your lies, but I do. And I’m going to end you.”
When Radcliff saw the spear leaning against the building across from them, he knew there was no talking his way out of this. He dug his feet in, but that barely stopped the stronger warrior from dragging him closer to a messy end. Ignoring his apprehension, Radcliff opened his magic core. It was like pouring salt into an open wound. It hurt. A lot.
He was in so much pain, he barely noticed when Maleko spun him around and slammed a fist into his chest. Radcliff heard something crunch inside and a sharp pain stole what was left of his breath. It took all of his will to ignore the abuse to his body and concentrate on pulling his magic together.
The warrior pounded his body like a target dummy.
Radcliff was shoved into the dirt, bloodied and dazed. His tentative hold on the magic was slipping, but he fought to hang on, oblivious to the external danger.
“Get up!” a voice shouted in his head. His tortured body was slow to respond, but he rolled over in time to see Maleko stalking him with spear in hand and murder in his eyes.
Radcliff spat blood out of his mouth and focused on the dirt under his hands.
When Maleko lunged, Radcliff linked his magic with the dirt particles and sent them flying into the warrior’s eyes while he rolled left.
The spear struck the spot he just vacated and sunk several inches into the ground. Maleko let out a thunderous roar of unbridled rage and yanked the spear up with one hand. “You’ve only delayed things,” he snarled while furiously scrubbed at his eyes with the other. Despite being blinded, he zeroed in on Radcliff’s new location.
Radcliff clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his ragged breaths and sent out magical feelers to look for something else to use. All the while, he struggled to shut out the pain in body and mind. His head felt like it was stuck in a vise but he had no choice but to use magic or face certain death. Whatever he did would have to happen now or never.
Right as Maleko lunged, Radcliff found it—a broken off Shae tube. He rolled again but this time he felt the tip’s passage as it missed his side by only a hair’s breadth. His vision grew spotty as the pain grew unbearable, but Radcliff ignored everything but the tube across the village. Just as he was shifting it from there to here, something else reached out and tugged it away. He lay there in stunned confusion while Maleko’s spear raised to its highest arc. Just as Maleko began the downward thrust that would surely impale Radcliff’s heart this time
around, the tube came flying down the path and slammed into the back of the warrior’s head.
Maleko dropped to the ground like a chopped tree and remained motionless.
What just happened? That wasn’t what I intended. Who interfered? The pounding in Radcliff’s head worsened and left him with cold sweats and nausea until he no longer cared about anything else but surviving the pain.
Maleko’s weak groan was concerning. Well, at least I didn’t kill him but I really should get away before he recovers. While he doubted the man would try to kill him again, Radcliff wasn’t in good enough shape to test that theory.
Amira screamed his name and came flying at him. She dropped to her knees at the last second and fussed over him. “Are you all right?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before running her hands over him, inspecting him. He groaned when she hit his ribs.
“You’re hurt. We need to get a healer.”
“It’s ok, I think it’s just a cracked rib.” It was actually broken but he wouldn’t tell her that. Besides, all a non-magical healer could do was wrap it. Perhaps when his headache lessened he’d try that healing spell from his journal.
As he struggled to stand, Amira wrapped her arm around his waist to help, careful to avoid his ribs. “Thanks,” he muttered. While he wasn’t happy at needing assistance, he liked her touch.
“What did he do to you?” She shot a heated glare at Maleko’s crumpled form and looked ready to kick him.
“Caught me by surprise, that’s all,” Radcliff replied, trying to guide her away.
“No wait, let me grab my staff,” Amira said and bolted into Ekewaka’s home which was just down the path. She came out seconds later brandishing the staff and growled, “If he tries anything, he’s mine.”
Radcliff smiled at her ferocity. “Don’t worry about him. I handled it as you can see.” They both looked down at the warrior who was still on the ground but was growing more alert. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he added. As they took a step away, Radcliff winced as something stabbed him from the inside. He had to put most of his weight on Amira. The blow to his male pride was offset by being so close to her. She smelled good, like fresh honey. Suddenly, he felt a pang of longing and ruthlessly squashed it. A man who forgets a woman each morning doesn’t deserve her.
She’ll never like you. Nobody likes you. You should give up now and just die.
The depression struck without warning but Radcliff fought back. I don’t need anyone to like me, I just need. The. End. Of. You. Visualizing the voice in a room with a door, he slammed the door shut and wrapped the entire thing with unbreakable chains. No key. No exit. Let the voice wail around now, he wouldn’t listen.
“Are you ok?” Amira’s question popped him back into the now.
“I’m fine,” he replied. Not really, but he didn’t want her worrying about him.
With his mind finally free of internal clutter, Radcliff noticed how quiet it was. Looking around, he did a double take. “Where is everyone?” he asked.
Amira made a faint whimpering sound that did twisty things to his heart. He halted and held her at arm’s length so he could see her face. The sorrow in her eyes nearly leveled him and a tear slowly streaked down her face. He gently brushed it away with his finger. “What is it? Tell me,” he coaxed.
She looked away as she struggled to compose herself. Then, taking a deep breath, she told him about the meeting, her vision, and what they were planning. “When I left, they were outside praying like they were already dead.” She wept freely now.
Radcliff shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why stay and die? The forest is a lost cause either way.”
In between sniffles, Amira replied, “Apparently, they can’t leave because the spirits of their ancestors live there. They are honor bound to protect them.”
It took a full minute for the meaning to truly sink in. Radcliff paled. I set their forests on fire. Would I have known that at the time? Probably. No wonder Maleko wanted him dead. Still, he refused to apologize when he didn’t know what his reasoning was. However, that didn’t stop him from feeling bad about it now. Perhaps if he found a way for them to leave with their honor intact, he could make amends.
They resumed the slow walk back and Radcliff racked his brain for a way to save the tribe. The forest existed in a condensed magical region that wasn’t unique to the world. Once again he frowned at how he knew geography but not his own name. Focus on the problem at hand, Radcliff. Somehow, he also knew there were many forests, some inside equally dense magical areas, yet only the Shae grass grew here. Why? Then he pictured the massive trees in the other forests. They would dominate and choke out the delicate Shae grass. But if the trees were removed, the grass should thrive. It could be done. If the people refused to leave the forest, he could bring the forest to them one summoned tree at a time. Except by then it would be too late.
As they arrived outside their dwelling, it hit him. “What if they took cuttings with them? Then they could replant the forest later.”
Amira looked at him in surprise. “Cuttings?” she asked.
“Yes, it is common with some trees and plants. You cut a piece off and let it root. Then you can plant it in a new location.”
“And that would really work?” Amira looked hopeful.
“I don’t see why not.”
“How can a man with no memory know so much about plants?”
“I wish I knew.” He frowned, once again annoyed at the mystery. What exactly had this spell done to him?
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said, bouncing with enthusiasm. “I’ll speak to Ekewaka right away.” Then she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” she told him before darting off.
Radcliff stood alone in the silence and savored her kiss. Her soft lips on his cheek. Her honeyed scent. Tomorrow he’d forget everything and only a skeleton of what he felt now would be preserved in his journal. It wouldn’t be the same, but it was all he had. All he could ever have from her. The bitter agony lashing his soul matched the throbbing pains in his body. Then, like a wet dog, he shook it off the emotions and shoved them deep down where the other unwanted ones were kept.
Limping into the dwelling, Radcliff picked up the journal and sat down at the small table to write about everything that happened during the day. When he was finished, he paused before closing it. He really should just close it but even though it was further torment, he couldn’t help but add an entry about the kiss. And then he added a final note.
I yearn for a closer relationship with Amira. There’s a connection between us and even though I forget her each morning, at night I feel like I’ve always known her. Whatever happens, I truly believe a piece of her will always be with me.
He shoved the book away in disgust. What was he doing besides engaging in self-torture? He snatched it back up, fully intending to scratch out every entry about her, but try as he might, he couldn’t do it. Instead, he brushed sand over the ink to dry it and cursed his weakness. Eyeing it with growing dread he finally admitted to himself, I need the hope. The thought of ‘maybe’ was all he had to combat the nasty depressing voices in his head. Even being near her helped.
Though she wasn’t here now. Probably still hard at work convincing the Shae people to choose survival. And here he sat feeling sorry for himself. This time he didn’t even have the spell to blame. The problem was, he had nothing to do. Perhaps he should have gone with her but he wanted to avoid questions about Maleko.
Absently scratching off flakes of dirt, Radcliff realized just how filthy he was. As he reached for the water pitcher, more needles stabbed at his insides. Tired of feeling useless and broken, Radcliff risked a tiny trickle of magic. The dull throbbing in his head convinced Radcliff to push more magic into his body and he invoked the basic healing spell. As the warmth spread, the pain in his chest receded and then vanished. He cut off the flow and took a deep, lingering breath. The lack of any discomfort was pure ecstasy.
He
stripped to his undergarments and wiped off the caked dirt and blood. Dragging the filthy leathers outside, he shook the worst of it off and spent several minutes wiping every inch until even the creases were grime-free. Once satisfied, he draped them over the chair to dry.
The dwelling had cooled significantly once the sun set so Radcliff rummaged through the small chest filled with borrowed items and pulled out a night shirt. It was knee length and decorated in multicolored embroidered patterns.
There was nothing left to do now but sleep. Except morning meant forgetting and sleeping led to morning and that meant losing precious time remembering. Though he was tired, he refused to sleep until the last minute when he had no choice. So he compromised and sat on the bed to rest his body while replaying the day’s events, especially the part about the sphere. He remembered seeing it, but everything after that was a complete blank. Frustrated, he tried again, but it was no use. What was worse, he felt the echo of something but couldn’t quite reach it.
When the soft scratch at the door interrupted, Radcliff was grateful. He’d had enough with his faulty memory. As he got to the door, he heard a soft voice whispering his name.
He opened the door to Nalani’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “Hey, shouldn’t you be in bed?” he teased, trying to coax a smile.
She wrapped herself around his leg and clung on tight.
He bent down and pulled her up into a hug. “It’ll be ok,” he murmured while rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe whatever was troubling her. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
She sniffled into his chest as he walked them over to the bed and sat with her in his lap. Her little hands grasped the fabric of his shirt and held on like her life depended on it. She seemed afraid. He tried another tack. “Where’s your father?”
Nalani cried louder and rushed everything out in one sentence. “I said I hated him and he’s mad at me and I begged him to stay but he went on patrol but I didn’t mean it and I don’t want him to die.” She heaved in a gulp of air. “I don’t want to die either,” she finished with a choking sob.
