Beasts of the Seventh Crusade (The Crusades Book 4)

by Mark Butler

  Francois saw it first. As big as a small village, towering green trees formed a perfect circle off to the men's left, a mile east. It was a gem in the wastelands; an emerald and jade sanctuary that promised clean water, shade, and possibly food. The trio didn't even need to say anything; they just went toward the oasis.

  "How can this be?" Artois said, as they entered the shade of the oasis canopy.

  "Water is underground; in some places it is closer to the surface than others. This is one of those places, and life has sprung up around it. We may be the only people to ever see this place, a place of the gods," Raul answered.

  The oasis was a paradise. In the center of it was a deep, blue pool of clean water. Plants and flowers were everywhere, a healthy collage of pinks, reds, blues, and purples. The trees grew coconuts, and they dropped to the ground randomly, heavy enough to crack a man's skull but delicious otherwise. Fresh water, like the mist created by a river, was the only smell that Francois could identify. When he filled his canteen from the blue pool, the water tasted sweet, with a hint of lime.

  "Are there any animals here?" Artois said, stripping down to his undergarments.

  "What are you doing?" Raul asked.

  "I'm going for a swim."

  "Let's not rush into the water, Artois. There could be other people here. We should scout the area and wait a day, and if no one arrives, we'll relax."

  "Very well," Artois grumbled. He briefly realized that he could follow his own father's orders better than any other man's orders. It was because Raul always explained his reasoning, he never insisted on obedience for the sake of authority.

  "No tracks, no droppings. Perhaps no animals, except lizards and insects, have ever survived this deep into the desert? And why would they try? The only animals that could be here would have been brought here by men, and who would do that?" Francois asked.

  "Just spread out and keep your eyes and ears open. Keep a hand on your weapons, too. We'll each go to the edge of the trees and plant an arrow in the dirt. Turn left and walk until you've seen another arrow, and then come back to camp. We can have this entire place scouted within an hour."

  Raul's orders were followed without hesitation. When he spoke, only fools ignored his advice. Christof could have benefitted from listening to his younger brother, but such is the way of siblings. Francois and Artois each took a direction and an arrow, and they set off through the vegetation.

  Artois reached the edge of the oasis without incident, and he planted his arrow.

  Raul, too, found the desert again and put his arrow into the ground. If all went well, Artois would find his arrow, and he would find Francois' arrow.

  Francois never reached the edge of the oasis. He was plodding through the foliage when a deep, angry snarl drew his attention. In a thicket of bushes, two yellow eyes looked at him with feral hatred. Francois' bow was up in a moment and he drew a bead on the eyes. If they moved, he would shoot to kill.

  Another growl came from behind Francois. Without taking his bow off the first beast, he looked over his shoulder and saw a huge coyote. Its eyes were yellow and its fur black. The coyote's teeth were stained red, as if it had recently feasted on flesh. Francois' heart sped up, and he turned back to the first beast. The eyes were gone, but the bush shook like a quarrel was happening in its depths. A moment later, a bird burst out of the bushes and perched on a branch. It stared at Francois with the same hatred as the coyote.

  Francois spun on his heels, expecting the second beast to attack, but it was gone. In its place was an identical bird—black feathers, long beak, angry eyes. Francois swallowed and looked straight up. There were dozens of birds, all of them staring at him. He let the tension off his bow and sprinted toward the desert. He reached the edge of greenery and sand and felt better in the desert, as if an invisible cloud of magic had eased its grip on his mind.

  He turned and ran right, forgetting to plant his arrow in the sand. Francois ran and ran, and he soon saw Artois' arrow, exactly as it should be. Realizing that he forgot to plant his own, Francois turned and ran back the way he came, his body beginning to fade. He had not eaten properly in two days, and he had only drunk enough water to reside in the desert, not to push the limits of his fitness. Within a few minutes, Francois slowed and he was no longer sweating. His mouth was dry and his skin burning. When he saw his father's form, looking worried, Francois fell to his knees.

  "I saw . . . coyotes."

  "What, where?"

  "In there," Francois gestured weakly at the oasis. "There is evil here, I can sense it."

  "You are delirious, my son. Come; let us find your brother and some food." Raul tried to pull Francois into the darkness of the trees, but Francois resisted.

  "No! The coyotes changed . . . into birds. I saw it Father, I swear."

  Raul's eyes grew wide, and he felt his own heart start pounding. In Damietta, Raul had spent a bit of time listening to local mystics, men who carried on the tales of the desert in an oral tradition. The words of one of them, the oldest one, came screaming back to Raul's mind.

  Beware the shape-changers! They are demons who will lure you into the wastelands and feast on your blood! They become what they eat . . . they eat the dead.

  "We must find Artois," Raul said simply.

  They circled the oasis and found Artois' arrow, but no Artois. He had likely gone back to the blue pool and was waiting for them. They tried to yell, but the trees bounced the sound back, sending it uselessly into the desert. It was pointless to try anything except venturing in and finding Artois. They could not leave him.

  Francois, with better vision than his father's, went first. How could they be so stupid? They had callously wandered into this false paradise, thinking that the gods were simply being generous. But no, just as a beautiful woman can lure a man to places of darkness, so can nature deceive a righteous path. The oasis was unnaturally quiet as they walked, and Francois stomped his foot on the ground, trying to make a little noise. Without the sound, he felt as if his senses would be dulled by the silence.

  Artois was swimming in the blue pool. His clothes were hanging on a branch, and his weapons were piled at the water's edge. He was waist deep in the pool and his hair was slicked back, his hardened muscles glistening.

  "Artois, get out of there!" Raul yelled.

  "Hey, where have you two been? I got so worried that I decided to take a swim!"

  "Seriously, son! Something strange is happening."

  "You two are strange," Artois said, making his way toward his clothes. He had more scars on his back than Francois remembered ever seeing, and he briefly realized that his brother had done much as a king's bodyguard, he had experiences that Francois could not fathom.

  Still dripping, Artois dressed and regarded his father and brother.

  "So what's going on?"

  They told him everything that Francois saw, and Artois saw that his father believed every word of the story.

  "Is it possible that you saw two coyotes and two birds? Is that so unreasonable? I don't feel any magic here, I don't feel any evil. I just feel tired, hungry, and lustful. Because there are no girls around, I was hoping to at least rest and eat."

  "You're not sensitive to the spirits, Artois, but your younger brother is. If you were in a fight to the death, you would want him to obey you, correct?" Raul insisted.

  "Okay, suppose there is evil here? What do we do?"

  In response to Artois' question, guttural laughter came from the trees. It was a man's voice, but he sounded old—old and powerful.

  "Who is that?" Artois bellowed.

  A man stepped into the clearing. Black robe, dark eyes, thin build, with a cunning smile, he was probably older than Raul by ten years. When he walked, his robe concealed his legs, so that he appeared to float. "I am Ghoul."

  "Ghoul?" Francois tasted the word on his lips and decided it was bad.

  "I said it."

  The Coquets stared at Ghoul and he stared back, unafraid. He had no visible weapon
s and no armor. If they wanted to, the Coquets could easily subdue this weird man.

  "You are of this place," Francois accused.

  "You saw my friends in the trees, in the bushes. We saw you, but you were scared. You should be scared. I don't know what we will say when we go back to Damietta as you three, but that is a few days away, at least," Ghoul said. He licked his lips as he spoke, and Francois saw the same red blood on his sparkly white teeth that the monstrous coyote had.

  "Artois, Father, draw your weapons," Francois whispered. Artois grabbed his battle axe, and Raul's sword came out of its scabbard in one smooth motion. Francois brought up his bow and arrow and pointed it at Ghoul's heart. "Let us leave and we shall spare you!" Francois yelled. Ghoul put up his hands in mock surrender.

  "Please, there is no need for violence! We can resolve this with words and promises, I'm sure."

  Mad, deep bursts of air came from behind the trio. They all spun at the same time. A coyote was in mid-air, its razor sharp claws and blood-stained teeth coming straight at Francois. It was 200 pounds of animal fury, all concentrated on Francois' chest. Francois threw himself to the ground, sure that his arrows wouldn't slow the creature down. They weren't needed, though. Artois' axe flashed through the air and cleaved the beast's head before it landed. He pulled the weapon free of the dead thing's brain with a wet, sucking sound.

  The corpse of the coyote melted in front of them and reformed into a bird. And then the bird melted, to be reformed into a lizard. The lizard melted and became a horse. The horse melted and became a man. He was a kind-looking man, with dark brown hair and a smooth face. And he had a deep canyon in his forehead, courtesy of Artois' axe.

  The man gyrated and shook, his lips foaming and eyes blinking. He turned and rolled and Artois slammed his axe down again, severing the head. Out of that gaping hole a spirit escaped, a grey, fleeting apparition that went up into the trees. The apparition became a mist, and then it was gone from their sight.

  "Ghoul is gone," Francois said. They turned and he was gone, without making a sound.

  The oasis came to life. The blue pool began swirling and the water blackened. The trees rustled and the grass blew like there was wind, though none could be felt on their skin. A deep, drumming noise rose in the distance and became louder, harsher.

  "What do we do?" Artois asked, his voice finally sounding a bit afraid. Francois took a rare pleasure in Artois' fear. It was nice to know that he was afraid of something.

  "We must leave now! Which way do we go?" Francois yelled. The trio looked to the sky in unison, hoping for the Moon and stars to navigate them away from the haunted oasis. Incredibly, the trees branches extended out defiantly, obfuscating the sky.

  "Follow me," Raul said. He grabbed Francois' hand and put it on his belt. "Artois, grab your brother's belt or tunic, so we don't get separated. If there is battle, we fight back to back!"

  They moved as one. Raul plunged through the vegetation, nearly running into more than one tree and always with his eyes on the darkness, where otherworldly noises continued to press in around them. Suddenly, Raul saw a break in the trees, a clearing that could be the way out.

  Raul's perceptions deceived him. The clearing was just another pool of water, being fed by a small waterfall. It was too large for them to have missed on their reconnaissance of the oasis, unless Francois had just missed it because of his flight. The water was thick and syrupy in appearance, and Artois reached his hand out to catch some. Raul slapped his hand down. "We do not know what magic is at work here! Touch nothing!"

  "What about them?" Artois whispered. Coyotes, birds, snakes, and a few teeth-baring rabbits stepped into the clearing, across the small pool. They growled and snarled, and Francois detected human souls in their pained eyes. He couldn't explain why he thought that, but there was no earthly reason for so many natural enemies to be united against a group of humans.

  Swirling above the motley group of animals was a grey cloud, spinning like a maelstrom and filled with wounded voices. Francois tried to make sense of the weird moans, and he felt as if they wanted to be joined with the Coquets, to consume their beings.

  "They are prisoners," Francois said, staring at the animals.

  "Run!" Artois yelled. An invisible restraint was thrown off the animals at that moment, and they surged forward, hungry and angry.

  The men ran away. There were no paths, no indications that they were getting closer to freedom. Dirt that was dry and firm an hour ago was now soggy mud, and the Coquets fought through the muck, while mosquitoes swarmed their faces and the haunted animals howled behind them. After clearing the mud, the trees got closer and closer together, blocking their path.

  "What evil is this?" Artois cried out.

  "Climb!" Raul yelled.

  Artois cupped his hands and boosted Francois up to a branch. Raul was next, and they both had to pull Artois up, and his great weight nearly brought them down. As soon as Artois was in the tree, the branch creaked.

  "We are too heavy! Keep moving!" Raul said.

  The branches were close together and strong, but the higher they got, the thinner the branches were. The animals were still howling on the ground, but they made no moves to try and follow the trio into the trees. The birds didn't attack, either, but just followed them, like scouts keeping the enemy in sight.

  "Francois, you are the lightest! Go up high and find the way out of here!" Raul ordered. Francois nodded and climbed, his knees scraping and muscles burning with the effort. He was nearly to the top when the branches of the other trees crowded him, and he could see nothing but green and brown. He went back down.

  "I can see nothing. What do we do?"

  Raul considered his possibilities. They knew nothing about this land, not like with the dragon in France. There were no divinations, chants, or summations at his disposal. He knew nothing of Arabic or Muslim mystics, and his lack of knowledge could cost his sons their lives, their souls. There was one thing Raul understood, though.

  "We fight," he said. Artois and Francois looked at each other, having a silent debate on whether they should try to stop their father. If they reached a conclusion, it didn't matter; Raul was descending, and he was on the last branch before falling to the ground, to be mauled by dozens of angry mammals.

  "No!" Artois leapt from on high with his axe in his hands. He fell through the air like some Viking god, and his axe bit into a coyote's neck, severing the head. He turned and swung his axe with ruthless power, killing swaths of animals with each stroke. Raul was at his side a moment later, slicing and stabbing with his sword. Francois strung an arrow and began picking off the animals in the back. He shot with utter concentration, aiming for eyes, throats, and mouths.

  They fought and fought, but the weird, grey cloud never wavered. It seemed to be calling more and more creatures to destroy these humans, and Francois realized they would be killed by exhaustion if they couldn't destroy that grey cloud.

  "Artois, Father! Get back in the tree!" Francois shouted. There was a lull in the battle, while more animals came from the shadows of the foliage. Raul took that moment to address his son.

  "Get down here and fight!"

  "No! Trust me!"

  With Artois' help, Raul got back on a branch. They helped Artois up, and both men looked at Francois expectantly. "So, what's the plan?"

  "Climb as high as you can and cut through the leaves! Break branches! Let the sun through!"

  Already drained and confused, they followed Francois' direction and began hacking through the leaves. In response, the trees pressed closer and closer, trying to suffocate them with the plants. It was a new battle, but very similar to the one with the animals on the ground. The shrubbery came and came, and Francois felt a sharp branch poking him in the back, trying to knock him to the ground. He turned and snapped the branch with all of the strength in his arms. The grey cloud seemed to sense what was happening and it grew more turbulent, whirling and moaning like death itself.

  Francois strung an
arrow and shot it through the canopy of trees. A single beam of sunlight shone through, striking the grey cloud, and the ghouls within screamed in pain. Francois shot shaft after shaft, and Artois' axe cut completely through a thick tree, breaking it in half and dumping sunlight into the oasis. The grey cloud got louder and louder, and then it began to disappear. It became a lighter mist, then vapors, and then it was gone.

  The animals on the ground stopped fighting. They looked at one another the way animals normally did, with curiosity and fear, and they scattered into the darkness. The Coquets watched them go, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

  They lowered themselves to the ground and rested deeply. With animal bites, fur, green sap, and bits of wood in their skin, they were beyond exhaustion. There was a bit of awe in Artois and Raul's eyes as they looked at Francois, and he considered the respect that he received to be unwarranted. It was not his choice to be sensitive to spiritual things; it was more like a burden, one that he could only alleviate by bridging his skills with those of other men.

  Ghoul staggered out of the darkness, the man of the oasis. His mouth was bleeding and he staggered, holding himself up with a walking stick. His black robe was torn and dirty.

  "You . . ." he pointed a bony finger at Francois and tried to rush him, but he slipped before he even got started.

  "I thought they had human souls . . ." Francois said, thinking of the impression he got from the animal's eyes. But they were not human, only servants to the grey cloud and Ghoul. The grey cloud used the animals to kill humans, and then it trapped their souls, to become more powerful and have greater control over nature.

  "I'll end this," Artois said, hefting his axe and stalking over to Ghoul. He raised the blade high.

  "No, brother, wait!" Francois went to Ghoul and picked him up under his armpits. He dragged him toward a spot on the ground where the sunlight shone, and Ghoul started kicking and screaming.