Into the Desert Wilds

by Jim Galford

“A warrior’s instinct and for that I am sorry. Besides, I did not actually draw it, you do recall?”

  Oria tugged his arm upward again, making him squirm. “You had your servant aim a crossbow at me,” she continued.

  “That was to make you wait before hitting me long enough that we could talk. It was not my best plan, I do admit.”

  “Tying me up?”

  “It seemed like something I could explain away once we were more relaxed when I first thought of it. Maybe something we laugh about…”

  Oria yanked his arm again, drawing out a groan. “So what is your explanation?” she demanded, her nose as close to his large ear as she could get, given that he was nearly a head taller than her.

  “I had hoped for more time to think on that. Sadly, we have just arrived and I was trying to find a way to apologize for believing you to be a scout of the dead. Let me just say that I would be happy to let you talk with your mother, if that will calm you…and convince you to let me keep that arm. I am fond of it.”

  Not quite ready to consider releasing the other wildling, Oria kept her grip on him and began checking over her shoulders, examining the room she was in.

  The small chamber was likely no more than about eight feet wide by ten or twelve feet long, with low ceilings and a single door that was covered by a ragged sheet, tied to iron spikes set into the jagged stones of the frame. The room stank of wildling—Phaesys—and old death. Oria could only guess that this had once been one of the ruins’ tombs, repurposed by Phaesys as his home. A makeshift bed lay where Oria had woken. Several weapons and what appeared to be stale bread were stacked on a leaning table in one corner.

  “Why was I on your bed?” Oria asked softly, digging her claws into Phaesys’ wrist until she felt blood running over her fingertips.

  “I wanted you to rest comfortably.”

  “While you did what?”

  Oria saw Phaesys’ eye go wide. “No! I have not hurt you, child! I would not do such a thing!”

  “Stop calling me that,” Oria told him, releasing Phaesys’ arm as she stepped back. She half-hoped he would try to attack her or run, so she had an excuse to hurt him for real. “I’m almost an adult. You don’t look much older. Keep calling me ‘child’ and I’ll show you what my mother taught me about fighting.”

  Collapsing, Phaesys rubbed at his wrist and turned to put his back against the wall.

  “I am no more than a child myself,” he admitted, eyeing the gouges in his arm from Oria’s claws. “My parents would set my age at just shy of five years. Not even old enough to meet my betrothed yet. So long as my family name means anything, my age is not a concern with the others…they will follow my orders anyway.

  “Please believe that I had no intention of harming you.”

  Oria wrinkled her nose at the male’s rambling and pleading as she paced around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Escape might mean going through all the elves and humans, which would be messy, if not fatal. Calling for help was out of the question so far underground. That left him as her only way out.

  “Where I come from, you’ve been an adult for a long time,” she mused, peeking out the simple door of the room. She kept it nearly closed as she saw two elves walk past, their footsteps far lighter than that of a human and nearly quiet enough that she would miss them. “I’ve got a few months left before I would have had my first hunt, if I were still back home. Here, I just get attacked by males who don’t even understand their own kind, every time I try to go exploring.”

  That made Phaesys sit up. “I understand what and who I am quite well. I am Lord Phaesys Herrouln, of a recognized noble trading household. My kin are merchants…or were…and while you may be nearing your first hunt, I was hunting with my father since I was two.”

  Oria let the door-cloth fall again and walked over to Phaesys, grabbing his limp-hanging arm by the wrist. He flinched as she did so, but she ignored him and just held up his hand.

  “No claws,” she chided, glaring at the smooth-filed tips. “You need to stop lying to me about who you are. You are a slave to someone and I want to know who.”

  “I am no slave!” Phaesys said more firmly, pulling his hand away. “What kind of savage land do you come from where anyone would grow their nails out like…”

  Oria held up her fingers in front of him, tapping her sharpened claws together.

  “Like a wild animal?” she asked, smiling as Phaesys appeared to regret his direction of conversation. “I know what I am, too. You may be a fox, but you think you’re a human. We are clearly not the same species. If you ever touch me again, I will show you exactly what a wild animal does to prey.”

  “You have my pledge. I apologize for my rudeness.”

  Ignoring him for the moment, Oria went back to the door. When she glanced outside, she found that the hall was empty. “You want to apologize, then take me back to my mother.”

  Oria expected an argument or another attempt by Phaesys to restrain her. She flexed her fingers, ready to claw at the male’s face if he came anywhere near her. She might not be able to get free of the tunnels, but he would be a bloody heap long before anyone managed to kill her.

  Instead, Phaesys lowered his head toward her in a slight bow, then picked up his sheathed sword, fastening it to his waist. He stood slowly, keeping his hand clear of the weapon’s hilt, clearly aware that Oria was ready to attack him with the slightest provocation.

  “Follow me and do not wander off,” Phaesys said, sticking his head out into the hallway and sniffing. “The others may be loyal to my family, but they will stop you if they think something is wrong. Their loyalty will require them to protect me.”

  Oria looked around the room one more time. Among the weapons on Phaesys’ table, she spotted her knife. She snatched up the weapon and hurried after Phaesys as she tied it back onto her belt.

  They traveled in the dimly-lit halls for some time, with Phaesys pausing at each intersection briefly, before leading them onward.

  Though much of the tunnel complex was lit by flickering torches in rusted sconces, in some parts there was no light for long stretches at a time. Passing through one of those areas, Oria began to wonder where she was being led.

  Stopping in the dark, Oria struggled to see the path. Phaesys had vanished into the hall ahead of her and even the white tip of his tail had disappeared. Even with how quickly her eyes adjusted to the dark, this place was difficult for her to see very far in and scents were muddled in the place.

  “Phaesys?” she asked, hearing a slight echo and the faint patter of dribbling water.

  She stumbled forward, feeling her way along the wall, until her eyes were able to pick up the faint light of torches farther down the hallway. As Oria began to make out more distinct shapes, she saw Phaesys standing at the edge of another side-passage.

  “Not far now,” Phaesys told her, continuing onward.

  Several minutes later, Oria began recognizing the walls around her. They soon began trudging up the sandy entrance to the tunnels and out into the warm desert beyond, where the sun shone brightly overhead.

  “My mother is going to kill me,” Oria said to herself, seeing that the sun had been up for hours. “How long was I unconscious on your floor?”

  “One of my men got carried away,” he explained, offering a hand to help Oria up the uneven stones at the entrance to the tunnels. “He was worried that you were faking and fed you a potion to keep you asleep a little longer. I caught him in the act just a little too late. Another thing I must apologize for.”

  Oria wanted to be angry, but now that she was out of the tunnels and closer to her family, she could not muster the desire to lash out at Phaesys. Instead, she shoved her way past him, running across the hot desert toward where her family would be bedded down and worrying about her.

  Thoughts of her mother’s reaction to the loss of Estin pushed away any other rational thoughts. Oria did not want to do that to her mother. She did not want to make her worry another minute about
one of her children. She never wanted Feanne to have to mourn like that again.

  Still running when she reached the den, Oria slid to a stop, her feet digging deeply into the loose sand. Standing just outside the dark hole in the sands was her mother, her long grayish-white cloak on and hood pulled up to shield her face from the bright sunlight. Despite her casual stance, something about her radiated anger that Oria could feel even fifty feet away.

  “Oria, who is this?” Feanne asked slowly, her eyes staring past Oria. Her tone was clear in the belief that she would need to fight soon.

  Phaesys walked up alongside Oria, sniffing as he gave the slightest of bows.

  “I am your daughter’s abductor,” he announced, shocking Oria. She had been trying to come up with some way to keep him from getting mauled by her mother, but he had managed to destroy those chances in the first moment. “You will stand down and come with me. I can smell the city on you. You and everyone with you must be taken back under guard, until we know your intentions in this area.”

  “You said you were letting me go!” Oria hissed, taking a swing at Phaesys. Somehow, he dodged her hand, as though it were the easiest thing in the world to do. She had clearly misjudged his agility.

  “I said many things that I would or should regret. Ultimately, I am doing what is right for my people.”

  In her peripheral vision, Oria saw her mother begin down the slope, her clawed paws leaving long trails in the sand as she approached. Still, the cloak concealed her.

  “We all do what is best for our families,” Feanne said smoothly. “Reveal the others you brought with you. You did well hiding their scent, but I am no fool. You would not come alone.”

  Oria’s heart skipped a beat as a dozen humans and elves appeared from all sides, having hidden among the dunes near her family’s den. Most bore crossbows, though several drew curved blades like the one Phaesys carried.

  “I will not harm anyone if you come peacefully,” Phaesys told them both. “We will make sure the cave is empty and then we will go back to our tunnels with you. You will be taken care of and kept safe, so long as we know that you are not spies. If you are found to be spies, I cannot speak to the treatment you will receive.”

  Feanne stopped walking and the hood of her cloak swiveled as she surveyed the group that surrounded her. She finally turned back to Oria.

  “Oria, do any of these people have any significance to you?” Her nose—the only visible part of her face—pointed slightly toward Phaesys. “This one, perhaps? I would spare any you wish left alive.”

  “None of them, mom.”

  Oria gave Phaesys a glare and dragged a finger across her throat to warn him. Whether he understood the danger he was in was impossible to tell from his eyes. She would have to hope that he either figured it out quickly or died painlessly. The others were of little concern to her, but she hated to see a fellow fox die needlessly, even if he was an idiot.

  “Remove the cloak and come with us, matron,” Phaesys ordered, drawing his sword. “This will be your only warning.”

  Rolling her shoulders, Feanne let the cloak fall back, though the hood stayed up.

  Oria had seen her mother fight a great many times in her life, so she was not entirely surprised to see her mother wearing her “travel leathers”—a vest and long loincloth of thick oiled brown leather that had been battered and torn in many vicious fights. The clothing was Feanne’s favorite when having to run through woods or battle, where more human-styled clothing would become snagged and pose a liability. These gave her very free movement, as the entire length of her legs, feet, arms, hands, and tail were kept free of clothing.

  What did surprise Oria were her mother’s claws. Feanne had always kept her claws long and sharpened—far sharper than Oria’s thanks to Feanne inheriting a few traits from her lioness mother. Now though, using some form of her magic that Oria did not understand and had never seen before, Feanne’s hands had grown nearly four-fold, with long dagger-like talons that looked as if they could tear through armor.

  Watching her mother tear through enemies had never scared Oria…seeing her mother like this, surrounded by archers, did. This she knew would be brutal and she was not sure that she was ready to see it.

  “The laws against desert witches have been ignored since the mists struck Corraith,” called out Phaesys, though Oria noticed he had stepped back, under the guise of adjusting his stance. “Surrender and I can protect you from those who would harm you and your children. I pledge this.”

  Feanne chuckled eerily. “Perhaps you do not understand, desert fox. All of these men you brought are dead. Every one of them will lose their life today if you do not stop this madness and walk away. I will kill each one, letting you watch, so that you can explain to their families that they had to die because you wanted to kidnap my child and cage the rest of my family. I will make very sure that you are my instrument to carry such a message, even if I have to paint it across the desert with your blood. Are you ready to accept that burden?”

  To Oria, Phaesys looked to be on the verge of running. His eyes were still full of fight, but his tail hung limply and his ears no longer stood quite straight.

  “We are all civilized people here,” Phaesys called back at Feanne. “Your daughter mentioned her father. Perhaps we can reason with your husband…”

  Oria groaned and told Phaesys, “That phrase just got you all killed.”

  Throwing herself to the ground, Oria flattened herself out on the sand as fast as she could.

  Feanne erupted into motion before Oria was down. Vines leapt from the sands to grapple several men, while snarling wolves appeared from nowhere to drag off two more. Yet another went flying as Feanne held a hand out toward him sending him rolling into the sands with magic.

  A single archer managed to get his shot off in the chaos. The bolt shattered loudly inches from Feanne, exploding in a shower of wood as it hit an invisible barrier of magic around her.

  With the last of the archers attempting to reload his crossbow, the swordsmen rushed in on Feanne, who appeared to be watching them all as she turned in place. Oria recognized the postures as anticipation…she was waiting to see what they would try next.

  “What is she doing?” gasped Phaesys, grabbing Oria’s arm. “Stop her! This was not supposed to lead to bloodshed.”

  “She wasn’t lying. Call your men off!” snapped Oria, yanking her arm free, then flinching and covering her face as a crack of lightning took another man off his feet. “She’s barely gotten started! If she gets angry enough, she might kill everyone in Corraith.”

  “She would attack the city?”

  “She would attack anyone who would try to control us,” Oria explained.

  Phaesys’ eyes widened and he leapt over Oria, running forward to place himself squarely in Feanne’s path as he waved down the swordsmen.

  “Stop! Stop!” the male fox shouted, as Feanne fully turned to face him. “I think there may be a misunderstanding! Men, stand down!”

  The men ignored Phaesys, closing in around Feanne in a tight ring as a clear attempt to minimize her ability to move out of the way of their weapons, while she kept her eyes solely on Phaesys.

  Feanne kept still until the first weapon was within inches of her. She reacted faster than Oria’s eyes could follow, slapping aside the sword and stepping in on the man holding it. With her body out of the reach of the other attackers, Feanne slashed at the man she had moved almost atop of, sending him sprawling as he clutched at ragged gashes in his armor and chest.

  “I said stop!” shouted Phaesys. “Weapons down! She is not our enemy!”

  The five remaining men continued attempting to move around Feanne and close her in again. Oria could not imagine how they thought it would work, as swiftly as Feanne moved, calmly avoiding their clumsy swings. The archers had been a genuine threat, but these men were nothing to Feanne.

  “Enough!” Phaesys screamed, his voice cracking. With a sharp twist of his sword, he managed to just ba
rely deflect another man’s weapon that might have struck Feanne.

  Dancing through the group alongside Feanne, Phaesys showed remarkable skill, holding off two and sometimes three men at a time. Soon, Feanne relaxed and stood by as Phaesys stared down the last two men who were unwilling to stop the assault.

  “Desert witches are kill-on-sight,” argued one of the humans, turning his sword against Phaesys. His companion seemed less sure of facing off against the male fox, but appeared just as unwilling to back down. “That is the law.”

  “So long as we live out here, I and my kin are the closest things to law that you have,” countered Phaesys, parrying the human’s sword yet again. “I offered her protection and I will not have you get us all killed. Would you truly cross me, just to get yourself killed by her? I order you to walk away, or I will execute you myself.”

  The man finally lowered his weapon, then spat at Phaesys’ feet. He then turned and slapped his companion on the shoulder.

  “Let him deal with his own kind,” the man said as they walked away. “Whatever happens is his problem. Coward boy deserves what he gets.”

  The humans gathered up their fallen, cutting away vines to extract some and carrying others between them. Oria could not be sure if those carried were alive or dead, though she had her guesses.

  Through the last moments of the conflict, Feanne stood silently behind Phaesys. Oria could see nothing of her movement under the cloak, other than her massive claws hanging still at her sides.

  When the last non-wildling had left, Phaesys turned toward Feanne, taking a knee as he did so. His sword he tossed a short distance away from himself.

  “You must understand, matron, I did this for the safety of our people. I need you to come with us to share what you know, now that I am sure you are not with the enemy.”

  As Oria watched, Feanne’s hands crackled and twisted, returning to their normal size and shape.

  “Where I come from, they call me a druid,” she said in a lilting tone as she began circling Phaesys. “Some call me a servant of the fae. Still others call me a monster. Until today, ‘witch’ was one of the few things I believe I was never called.”