by David Ekrut
“Very good,” Bain said. “Take me to him.”
“As my liege commands,” Emmantis said.
He felt the soul of Emmantis dissipate and materialize half a league away. Bain followed him.
The field had a score of skeletal warriors garbed in peasants’ clothes. Some were wielding swords, axes or poleaxes, but many carried pitchforks or nothing at all. Their bites and scratches were an effective weapon as well.
The soulless one sat atop an undead horse. The Death mount was crafted from a living horse and bound by the same soulkey. They were as one mind, though the horse was subordinate to the man. With a thought, the soulless one could move his mount. Such a beast was the answer to a warrior’s dream.
But the man with dark hair and brown eyes was no warrior. His strength was amplified and his speed increased, but he had no skill with the sword in his hand. Not as if it mattered.
A soulless one was beyond death. The most skilled swordsman could not kill the man. Hack a soulless one to pieces and his life would not be extinguished. There was but one way to destroy a soulless one.
The man Elwin had called Father moved through the sword routines at Mordeci’s command. Bain studied him for a moment. There was a defiance in his eyes, befitting a warrior instead of a farmer. Bain smiled. A fitting punishment. Drenen Escari was a prisoner in his own body.
Part of a soulless one’s will was his own. So long as he obeyed the commands, his own mind controlled the body. The struggle for control was the true punishment for the soulless one. Bain could order the man to kill his own wife, and he would. However he fought the command, in the end, a soulless one obeyed his master.
When next he saw Mordeci, Bain would commend him on the training.
Being in the waking world, Mordeci could not be aware of Bain’s presence, even though he stood not more than a few paces away. Mordeci’s asymmetric face and gaunt features belied the man’s strengths. He was a precise tool. He found pleasure in the pain of others and knew how to incite fear like no other. But Mordeci had few uses beyond his cruelty.
“Perhaps the soulless one will be ready when the fighting begins.”
“He will my liege.”
The soulless one looked upon Bain. Their eyes met. Bain could see hatred burning in the eyes of the soulless one.
“Interesting,” Bain said. “I was unaware the soulless one could see Spirits in the shadow realm. Can he hear one as well? There is still much to learn of the soulkey’s power not spoken of in the book.”
The man atop the horse began to tremble, and his eyes became a swirling fog. The Undead Stead began to rear, throwing the trembling man from its back.
“Poor farmer,” Bain said. “He is too peasant-minded to know when he is defeated.”
Bain turned to Emmantis, “I have seen enough here. You have your orders. There are other matters which require my attention.”
“Yes, my liege.”
Bain focused his mind on Goldspire.
Above Zarah, few dark clouds hid the starlit night. Chill wind flowed around her as she sustained her flight. She had never known the summer nights could be so cold. In truth, Zarah had never flown at night. Before now, she had always traveled in a wagon.
Though she would never admit it, flying several leagues at a time was more difficult than she had assumed. That first day had been the most taxing, only stopping for lunch before nightfall. She had collapsed before Mother had started the fire. The next several days had been marginally better.
The air surrounding Zarah gushed even colder for a moment. Beneath her wool dress, she felt goose pimples cover her flesh. She shivered and rubbed at her arms as she flew.
A hot bath, that was what she wanted. Maybe there would be a town or an inn waiting ahead. She wanted some spiced wine and a quiet place where she could brush the tangles from her hair.
She had pulled her hair into a tail for flight, but there was no time for a braid before departing every morning. The lack of a braid made her feel masculine. Zarah had seen several women with warrior tails, but they looked manly.
Mother had suggested she wear trousers instead of a dress. She opted for full leggings instead. They allowed her the modesty necessary without making her look like a boy. One would certainly mistake her for a boy if she had a warrior’s tail and trousers. Though, the trousers would have been warmer.
Although Zarah could not see her mother ahead of her, she could feel her mother taming the flow of Air to sustain her flight. It was her beacon to follow.
Far below to the north was the small contingent. Men followed along the wagons, carrying torches or lanterns. Though she couldn’t see their faces through the darkness at this distance, she knew her father would be on the horse in the lead. It had only been an hour since sunset, but it would be another hour until Father made camp.
It had taken Zarah and her mother less than a tenday to catch up to the procession. At this rate, it would take another tenday to make Goldspire.
Zarah felt her mother slow down ahead of her, and she caught up to her before she could slow her own flow of Air. It always grated her how Elwin could change directions much faster than she could.
“They were not supposed to stop,” Mother said. “Wait here while I see what they are doing.”
She felt Air stop flowing through her mother and watched her dive in the direction of the lights. The torches and lanterns moved back and forth in sporadic motions, and the procession of wagons had ceased.
There was a burst of power, and the rear wagon erupted into flames. It was Fire. Someone had tamed Fire.
“What in the Lifebringer’s name?”
A surge of Air formed a lightning hurl. It originated just above the wagons and shot toward the rear wagon. She felt a flash of Earth erupt and the lightning dissipated.
A burst of Fire was flung at her mother, which was deflected with a Shield of water. Mother countered by throwing a lightning ball at her opponent. The glowing ball of white flew through the night and disappeared into a great explosion of crackling light. At the last a surge of Earth appeared.
Back and forth the battle went. Fire deflected by water, countered by Air deflected by Earth. Zarah felt useless, but she did not want to get in her mother’s way. And she had her mother’s orders to follow.
She opened her essence to more Air and tamed a veil. She felt the Air cling tightly around her body. Anyone that looked upon her would see the empty space being reflected from the other side of her.
Having just learned the trick of masking a talent, she did not have much confidence in her ability. The trick was to pull in just a little more power than necessary to tame the talent and to release at the same time to balance the natural flow of Air. This would mask the taming of her veil. But, flying as she was, it wouldn’t matter much. Flying took quite a bit of power, but eavesdropping and veils did not. Masking only worked for talents that did not require much power, but she did as her mother had bidden her.
If any fighting occurred, she was to veil herself and wait for direct orders from her mother. Of course, how could she hear her mother’s orders way up here?
Zarah flew lower.
People surrounded the wagons in all directions. There had to be more than a hundred of them. As she moved closer, she realized something was not right about the attacking soldiers.
Black fog leaked from their eyes, and torn faces and flesh didn’t bleed. One man had a broken arm exposed to the bone, and he still clawed at a soldier as if not phased. Men, women, and children fought with pitchforks or hands and teeth.
Then she felt it. Like dropping offal in a clean pool, the stink of the Death Element rocked against her essence. She had never felt it before, but there was no mistaking the taint. It was the force that opposed Life.
A feeling of helplessness seized her, and she watched the battle with rigid horror.
The
creatures outnumbered the soldiers ten to one. When one of the creatures fell, another one took its place, clawing and biting their victims.
One of the soldiers fell. Before Zarah could think to act, a dozen of the creatures surrounded him. They thrashed and ripped at his flesh. His screams rose above the sounds of battle, then cut off.
This wasn’t happening. How could this be happening?
A sword of pure light came into being at the front of the wagons, swinging in intricate patterns. She moved closer to the figure. It was her father.
He was surrounded, but the creatures were not faring well against him.
Zarah had never seen her father use his sword outside of practice. He wielded it with both hands. The blade moved through the air with speed and precision. Each swing cleaved through a figure or deflected an attack. It was one continuous motion.
Several paces away, she saw Tharu and Hulen fighting together. Hulen had an axe as large as he, swinging with both hands. Every attack fell one of the creatures, but there were dozens of them.
As Hulen swung his axe, it would expose his backside. As the creatures tried to fill the gap, Tharu would dance in with his twin blades, slicing through the enemy ranks. When Hulen’s axe severed a arm at the shoulder, Zarah’s stomach lurched.
These things were no longer human, but they looked human. She had to close her eyes and grit her teeth to keep from becoming sick.
Beyond the wagons, she felt surges of the Elements. Flows of Water, Air, and Life wrapped around tamings of Fire, Earth, and Death. She needed to do something.
Zarah took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Three soldiers had been backed onto the top of a wagon by a dozen enemies on each side. Back to back, they fought. Each swing was a desperate attempt to keep the creatures from overtaking the wagon. Zarah could see no sign of any other soldier.
She increased her flow of Air, letting it fill her. While positioning herself above the remaining soldiers, Zarah tamed a lightning hurl. One of the things was atop the wagon. She took aim as she gathered the power in her hand. The air solidified and felt like a solid rod in her hand.
Zarah threw the lightning hurl toward the creature. As the bolt left her hand it crackled and gained speed. A sulfurous odor filled the air as the lightning hurl struck the creature in its chest.
Its upper torso burst, and its left arm flew free. The sight made her stomach churn, but she gritted her teeth against the feeling.
Another one of them was climbing up the other side. However the soldiers sliced the creatures, nothing deterred them. One had lost its arm, another had a gash in its neck that would have killed a normal human.
She tamed another lightning hurl and threw it at another creature. That one was smaller than the first one had been. Zarah did not let herself think about it. As fast as she could, she continued throwing lightning at each target, trying not to watch as the rod of light struck home. Even in her periphery, each one that fell made the pit of her stomach ill as pieces of it flew aside.
Seconds felt like hours, and she felt her essence being taxed. Each rod of lightning became heavier in her hands and more difficult to produce. Even sustaining her flight became a chore. Sweat stung her eyes, and her breathing became heavy.
There were so many of the creatures. Where had they all come from?
A wind thrust originated beside her and crashed into a tide of creatures, flinging them from the wagon in every direction. Without pause, a rod of lightning hit a different target below. Then a second. And a third.
“Mother.”
Alternating her throws with either hand, Mother threw lightning hurls in rapid succession. One by one the enemies around the wagon fell. Father, Tharu, and Hulen attacked the creatures from the rear. They cleaved through the crowd until only a dozen remained.
Even after the things were outnumbered, they did not attempt to retreat. Within seconds the remaining few were dispatched.
As her father’s sword took the head of the last one, Zarah eased to the ground. Her muscles were weak. She felt as if something was swimming in her stomach. She bent over in time to throw up without getting any on her shoes.
She hadn’t seen her mother’s approach, but Zarah felt her gentle touch across her forehead. Her mother held her hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach. After there was nothing left to come up, Zarah continued coughing and heaving for a few moments.
Zarah wiped her mouth off with the palm of her hand and straightened.
Her mother tapped Zarah’s chin to make her look up at her. “I am proud of you, Zarah. Without you, those men would have likely perished.”
“What were those creatures?” Zarah said.
“They are skeletal warriors,” Mother said. “They were made with the Death Element. Just like Elwin had said. They first came into being during the Shadow Wars. They are—”
“Jasmine!” It was her father’s voice.
“Here,” she called.
“I need you, here!”
“Come, Zarah” she said.
Zarah followed her mother to the other side of the wagons. Father and Tharu were huddled next to an injured soldier. Kyler, her father had called him. Hulen and the remaining three soldiers stood nearby, watching the darkness beyond them.
“Kyler is the only one fallen that still lives. He is hurt,” her father said. “Can you help him?”
Kyler had scratches on his arm that could have been made from razors. Teeth marks had gone through his chain shirt and into his side. There was so much blood.
Zarah felt the power of Life emanating from her mother. Unlike the other Elements, the power of Life came from within. It was more taxing on a person’s essence than taming the other Elements.
The power of Life flowed from her mother. Zarah’s skin tingled as the purity of creation filled the air. The cuts on Kyler’s arm and side mended as if they never were.
“I healed his physical wound,” Jasmine said. “But I can feel the taint of the Death Element coursing through him. It is the same power that animated these bones. These skeletal warriors. It might take some time for me to reason out how to heal the Death Element from him. I have never seen anything like this before.”
“I have,” Zaak said. “Tharu?”
Tharu knelt next to the soldier, “I can ask the Lady Nature for assistance. My people have dealt with this before. Not for centuries before Bain, but we never lose any knowledge that will preserve life.”
“Thank you, Tharu,” Mother said. “I know what it means for you.”
“Zaak. Hulen,” Tharu said. “Could you hold him down?”
Father grabbed Kyler’s arms and shoulders.
Hulen moved toward Kyler’s feet, grumbling with his thick accent. “Why do I get stuck with the kickin’ end?”
Tharu placed both hands on Kyler’s side. Zarah felt a foreign power emanate from Tharu. It didn’t start in the Air, Earth, or the other Elements. The power came from Tharu. It felt similar to how the power of Life had come from her mother moments before. Tharu wasn’t an elementalist.
How was he doing this?
His hands began to glow the color of grass. The light streamed from Tharu’s hands into Kyler’s side where the wound had been.
Kyler began to thrash against her father and Hulen. He arched his back, and his mouth twisted in agony. Dark fog seeped from Kyler’s eyes, and he let out a screech too loud and high pitched to be natural.
Tharu drew his blades and stood watching Kyler.
Several moments passed before the screeching stopped. When it did, Kyler became still.
“Is he …,” Zarah said.
“He will live,” Tharu said, sheathing his blades. “The Darkness of Spirit is no longer in him.”
“What would have happened to him,” Zarah said, “had you not healed him?”
“I did
not heal him,” Tharu said. “I forced his soul to battle for his body.”
“What?” Zarah said. “What do you mean?”
“The Darkness of Spirit had poisoned his body,” Tharu said. “His wound was great, so the longer it was allowed to spread, the less of a chance he had to win. The longer it had to spread through his body, the more difficult that battle would have been. I forced the good in him to fight against Death. Fortunately, there was much good in him.”
“What would have happened,” her mother said, “had he lost?”
“His soul would have been lost,” Tharu said. “Body and soul would have belonged to the Seeker of Souls.”
“Do you mean Death bound?”
Tharu nodded.
Her mother stood up. “Was anyone else scratched or bitten?”
The three remaining soldiers looked at one another as if the others might grow a tail or a beak.
“I wanted to be much farther,” Father said. “But we will camp here for the night. We need to bury our dead.”
“We lost our entire cohort,” Mother said. “We cannot bury a hundred bodies and still reach Goldspire in time.”
“I will not leave my men to become a feast for crows.”
“I am sorry, my love,” Mother said, “we do not have a choice.”
“Mistress,” Tharu said, his eyes downcast, “we need to dismember the heads of the bodies, or the corpses will become like the creatures we just defeated. With no one to lead them, they will roam the countryside attacking any living being.”
“I can pray over their bodies,” her mother said. “The power of Life will allow them to rest in peace.”
Tharu nodded and spoke without lifting his eyes. “My Patwah is to Zaak Lifesong, and he already knew of this knowledge. But, as soon as we have rescued this child, I must seek penance for the knowledge I have given to the rest of you. It was given to preserve life, but I must speak with the elders of my transgressions.”
Father clasped Tharu’s shoulder and nodded. “The elders will not likely fault you for sharing such knowledge, but do as you must.”
Then he turned to the remaining three soldiers.
