by Travis Bughi
They traveled on. The slavers kept their guard steady and thorough, always a watchful eye upon their two prisoners. Emily contemplated picking her chains and then re-shackling them, just so that she would be familiar with the locks when a moment came to run, but even that task was impossible. The nights were too quiet for her to fiddle with metal and not be noticed, and in the daylight there were too many eyes to get away with such a tedious task.
These men took their jobs seriously.
Before she knew it, a whole second week had passed, and they reached their long-awaited destination in the late afternoon. The evidence of this was provided by Jabbar himself, announcing in his deep and ominous tone, “We’re here.”
Phoenix Temple. She’d heard them say the name before. It was an old ruin, the lingering skeleton of a temple long past its allotted time in this world. It was similar in size to Jack Borgan’s bank back in Lucifan, which was essentially a building three stories in height. Its walls were perfect squares, denoting the sophisticated measurements that had gone into its crafting, but the once-dome-shaped roof had almost entirely collapsed.
It was made out of white stone blocks and was surrounded by a high wall that created a courtyard in the front. This wall, like the roof, had collapsed in several areas and had countless markings written across its surface. The entrance to the courtyard was almost as grand as the building itself. There were four columns of solid stone supporting another length of stone, this one rectangular. On the rectangular piece’s front was etched a symbol that looked like a thunderbird or roc rising up toward the sky.
Leading from the entrance to the building’s decaying arched door was a pathway of fallen rock and columns. There once must have been an elegance to the entire place, but over time those delicate details had given way and crumbled to the ground, leaving behind only the sturdy frame to endure eternity.
For its age, Emily could only assume that this must have been a wonderful place in its time.
“Phoenix Temple,” Ossim breathed deeply, sounding nostalgic.
“How long has it been, Ossim?” Bori asked.
“Decades,” he shook his head slowly. “I had thought then it’d be the last time I’d see the place. It’d been pillaged dry for ages, but some rich baron paid some fellas and me a hefty sum to haul off the last statue to his personal palace. It was a cracked and miserable statue of a sphinx, missing an arm and a nose, but he wanted it anyway. Probably because the wings had somehow survived. I say, how clever of that old merchant to hide her wealth in this forgotten ruin.”
“Clever indeed,” Lufti cackled. “Days travel from anyone following. Level sand dunes to watch for onlookers. No one would think of it either. I swear it took us forever to torture it out of her. I still can’t believe she hinted at it and thought we’d let her go free! Haha! And to think this is only her first treasure trove.”
“Don’t start drooling yet, little brother,” Bori nudged his sibling. “We haven’t found the stash. This could still be for nothing.”
“Not a chance,” Eisa wrinkled his nose. “That merchant spoke the truth. I could tell when she begged for mercy. I’m more worried about that archway.”
Bari looked over at Eisa in confusion, but Ossim nodded.
“I see it, too,” the older man said. “This building ain’t long for this world. Another great deterrent for thieves, I guess. The entrance looks like it’s about to collapse. You can see where someone propped up the archway with a stone column.”
“I don’t like the looks of that,” Eisa admitted. “What do you think, Jabbar?”
Jabbar stood silently, staring at the ruins without blinking. His hands folded over his massive chest again, and his tail swished back and forth like the ticking of a clock. He tightened his paws, and his claws extended out to tap on his furry skin.
“We didn’t come all this way for nothing,” he said. “If I’m going to be a shogun, I’ll need coin to make it look authentic. We have no choice. Let’s use the rest of the daylight to find the treasure and then take shelter inside for the night. I’m sure if that entrance has held this long, it can hold for one more day. Send the girl first.”
Emily received a rough push to her back from Bori and stumbled forward on chained legs.
“My lord,” Takeo spoke up. “Shouldn’t we send the viking first? He’ll have more experience with this.”
Jabbar narrowed one eye.
“True,” he answered, “and that’s why I want to save him for the second temple. That’s where the real hoard is, so that’s where the most trouble should come from. No need to waste him on this smaller one.”
“Well, shouldn’t we at least warn her?” Takeo pressed.
Jabbar’s tail flicked. There was an audible pause in the slavers’ breaths, all except Takeo’s.
“She’ll have a better chance of finding the trap,” the samurai pressed.
Jabbar’s whiskers twitched, and his tail swished again. Takeo stood firmly beside him, and the other slavers waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Suddenly, Jabbar turned on Takeo and struck him hard with a closed paw. It was so quick that Takeo didn’t even have time to flinch, and he slammed into the ground a moment later, his head slapping against the sand. Jabbar held his hand still where it’d struck the samurai and waited over his downed opponent. Takeo, in turn, coughed and spit a tiny line of blood into the sand. He wiped his mouth of it and then stood up slowly.
Jabbar never took his eyes off of Takeo.
“Keep that up, and one day, I’m going to find out how much you’re worth, Samurai,” he said. “Now go on; explain it to her.”
Takeo was breathing hard, his skin was red from the blow. Emily knew there’d be a fresh bruise there come morning. Takeo lifted his chin, though, when he spoke to Emily.
“There’s supposed to be a hidden treasure here,” he explained. “A merchant they tortured told them she’d hidden all her wealth in two locations: one ruin here and another further east. The merchant said she’d trapped both places, and so you’re going to walk in front. There’s only one trap at this temple, but we don’t know where it is or what it will be. The merchant died before they could get any more out of her.”
Emily listened to all of this. She looked at the temple, at its decaying form, at its darkened entrance, and sighed through her nose. The gushing wind swept through the gaping holes in the outer walls, scraped over the discarded stone bricks, and glided over the darkened threshold, releasing a low howl into the air.
The temple looked thirsty.
“I see,” she said. “Could you at least unchain me first?”
Eisa looked to Jabbar, who didn’t return the gaze but nodded. Eisa stepped forward and took Emily’s chains off. The air and sand immediately bit into her sore and ragged limbs, causing a sharp sting that made her wince. All in all, though, it was a relief to have them off. Her hands and feet felt like light feathers after carrying that extra weight for so long.
“And a weapon?” she pleaded.
“Get moving,” Eisa snapped and shoved her.
She stumbled right up to the stone columns that marked the entrance into the courtyard. She caught her footing, stood still, and then collected herself.
Well, this isn’t what I expected, Emily thought. She looked out at the old temple and then back to the slavers. She caught Koll’s eye, but he looked away. She contemplated what to do, what might be best. Could she run? Not for long. She wouldn’t make it far and would probably be caught. If not, she’d just die out in the desert. She didn’t have any water to make it back to that nameless town and knew of no other place to run to.
What else was there to do but move forward?
She looked to the temple’s entrance again and sighed.
“Just one trap, huh?” she muttered under her breath. “And then they’ll kill me.”
So this is what they had been saving her for. She was bait to reach a treasure room, and only one trap meant they only needed one slave. They belie
ved she would die, but if she didn’t, would they resell her? Not likely, she figured. Her time had run out. There was no more waiting for the right opportunity. She’d have to think of something fast.
And what about the trap? Emily had never dealt with traps before, at least not those of the mechanical kind. She had a faint idea of what they were: a rope or wire that sent something flying to hit the person who stepped on them. That was about the extent of her knowledge. She really had no idea what to do other than duck and dodge at the slightest hint of sound.
Then a thought struck her: she could use the trap against the slavers! Maybe, just maybe, if she saw the trap ahead, before she set it off, she could go around it and set it off against them! Perhaps, in the confusion, she could grab a knife or a sword off one of them. Maybe she could grab two and throw one to Koll. It was a faint hope that she could pull it all off, but it was her only hope. She wouldn’t get a second chance. She had to be watchful and not hesitate when the moment came.
It wouldn’t have helped her much, not against an unseen trap and a squad of armed mercenaries, but she would have felt better with a weapon already in hand.
“Get moving,” Jabbar growled.
And so Emily moved. She bent her knees, spread out her arms for balance, and took one cautious step after another. She picked her way past the entrance and into the courtyard. The wind continued to whistle through the cracked stones and shattered walls, intensifying the apprehension in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes scanned with a hunter’s focus as she traversed the courtyard, stepping around the massive columns that zigzagged over the stone pathway.
Behind her, the slavers followed, keeping at least five paces behind her. They formed a line—Bori, Lufti, Jabbar, Koll, Takeo, Eisa, and Ossim—and followed directly in Emily’s footsteps. When she stopped at the arched entrance to the darkened building, they stopped, too.
“Go on,” Bori called, “and watch the column.”
The archway had a deep crack that ran across the ceiling, and chunks of stone had fallen out and littered the floor. Someone had added support by wedging one of the columns under the doorway. Emily wondered briefly if it was doing anything at all, and if it was, would she find more inside.
The air from within the building was cool. It seeped out and touched her skin, chilling her with ease after she’d been so thoroughly cooked by the relentless sun. The light illuminated the shadowy interior just enough so Emily could see the darkened wall directly inside.
Just past the open threshold was another cracked wall, and the passageway branched left and right. She’d have to make a choice soon. She stepped inside.
And immediately heard a snap.
The slightest resistance broke under her foot, and a tiny dart launched from one of the cracks in the opposite wall. Emily hardly had time to flinch before the sharpened tip slammed into her side. She yelped in pain, and behind her, Bori laughed.
“Ha!” he chuckled. “That didn’t take long!”
Lufti laughed, too, and Emily breathed fast. She grabbed the dart and yanked it out.
“Poison dart,” Ossim tisked from the back. “Oldest trick in the book.”
“Take a look at it,” Jabbar commanded. “Will we be able to use her body?”
Emily dropped the dart and fell to her knees. She didn’t feel weak, but something told her it was the best thing to do. Shock wracked her system, and behind her eyes, tears began to form. Meanwhile, Ossim walked up and slid into the archway beside Emily. He grabbed up the dart and began to look it over. Emily watched him, breathing fast.
You idiot, she cursed herself. You stupid, stupid idiot. She was going to die now. She could scarcely believe it. After everything she’d been through, she was going to die.
“I guess you were wrong about the girl, eh, Takeo?” Eisa taunted.
Emily looked to Takeo, but the samurai had turned his back to her and pushed past Eisa. He stared down at the ground, and Emily looked back to her wound.
“What?” Eisa continued to prod the samurai. “Don’t be mad! Honest mistake, I’m sure. I mean, I’d never overestimate someone, but hey, I’m sure you can pay Jabbar back for the coin he wasted buying all three!”
Takeo said nothing. He stood stoic and silent as always, back still turned. Emily kept her eyes on her side, at the tiny trickle of blood and the deep, green liquid that stained the area. She’d seen that before. It was the green stuff those red worms had spit out. Slowly, she rubbed her hand over it, smearing it down her skin. Shouldn’t it hurt? Why doesn’t it hurt?
“And that’s why I didn’t waste the viking,” Jabbar muttered. “What’s taking so long, Ossim? Is her body any good? I’m getting hungry.”
Ossim didn’t respond immediately. He rotated the dart over and over in his hand, looking at Emily as he did so. His eyes fell to her wound and then traveled up to her eyes. He reached out a hand and touched the green stain. She recoiled slightly at his touch but did nothing else.
She wanted to know how long she had left, too.
Ossim left it on his fingers, waited a second, and then yelped in pain. The other slavers jumped, too, and watched Ossim bury his hands into the sand and wipe his hand clean.
“She should already be dead,” Ossim said.
A silence fell over the group.
“What?” Jabbar growled.
“This is a poison I’ve made before,” Ossim continued, voice flat. “It’s a watered down mixture of plant oil and olgoi-khorkhoi venom. Able to be touched and handled for a short bit of time, but horribly deadly if it breaks the skin or stays on you too long. I’m sure of it, and I’ve seen it used before. She should have been convulsing moments after it went in her. She should be dead, and the venom should be corroding her skin.”
The slavers gaped openly. Takeo turned around. Jabbar stepped forward, his eyes wide.
“You’re certain?” the rakshasa asked.
“Absolutely,” Ossim nodded. “She must be immune to the venom. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.”
Ossim peeled his eyes from Emily and looked to Jabbar. Jabbar gazed back, and the other slavers looked to their leader for an answer.
Emily, in turn, looked at the pesh-kabz hanging from Ossim’s waist.
“Well, this is an interesting development,” Jabbar said. “A rare find indeed.”
He put a hand to his chin, stroking the fur there, and turned around to address the others. Ossim’s eyes followed the movement, and his dagger dangled from its sheath. Emily fought to remain calm and unassuming.
“Alright, change of plans,” Jabbar said. “First, we kill the viking. Then—”
Emily lunged and grabbed ahold of Ossim’s dagger. She ripped it clear of the sheath and plunged it straight into the old man’s throat. Ossim opened his mouth to scream but only gurgled blood as he reached up and clenched Emily’s hands. Hardly a moment later, his eyes glossed over and his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the ground. His breathing stopped almost instantly as his throat filled with blood.
Emily yanked the knife out and leapt to her feet.
Eisa already had his sword drawn. Lufti, Bori, Takeo, and Koll all stared—stunned. Jabbar turned and looked at Ossim’s motionless body. He flattened his ears, narrowed his eyes, and then flashed his fangs when he looked to Emily.
“What have you done?!” he growled.
Emily looked from the rakshasa to Koll, then back to the rakshasa.
“You stupid. . .” Jabbar snarled and trailed off. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re going to pay for that.”
Emily opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it.
Then she ran into the temple.
Chapter 20
Emily felt claws wrap into her hair and pull. Her head snapped back, but she didn’t lose her balance. Several strands of her hair were yanked free, but she ignored the pain and sprinted into the dark, taking an immediate right.
From behind her, Jabbar roared so loudly and deeply that it vibrated through
out the temple, causing wisps of dust to dislodge and spill into the air. The thin rays of light penetrating the cracked walls became choked with tiny particles that danced and sparkled. Emily’s heart banged against her chest.
She sprinted down the short hallway and was forced to take a left. Behind her, the hair-raising sound of claws scraping stone was followed by the slap of leather sandals, and Emily didn’t bother looking back to see the obvious. She burst into an old room, a sort of foyer with a stone table and two doors on either end of it. She ducked into the closest one and kept running—the pesh-kabz clutched tightly in her hand still covered in Ossim’s blood.
Run, run, RUN, her mind screamed.
The next doorway led to the main room of worship, which had once been covered by a beautiful dome roof. It was a large, round room, maybe twenty paces across, and was now brightly lit by the invading sun. Small plants had begun to grow in the partially shaded areas, which gave shelter that the outdoors could not. A wreckage of stone benches that had at one time likely marched neatly before an elegant altar now led to nothing but a large hole—more than twice as long as a man was tall—in the center of the room, which exposed a basement beneath the chapel. It was deep, a little more than twice Emily’s height, and dark, untouched by the slowly setting sun. She contemplated jumping in but decided that would only trap her. On the other side of the room, she spotted another door. She sprinted around the hole towards it.
Behind her, voices shouted, echoing off the old stone—nearer and nearer.
“Takeo, stay with the viking! Bari, go with Jabbar. Lufti, you’re with me! We’ll head her off!” Eisa called out.
From the opening she’d come through, Jabbar burst into the sunlight. His tooth-lined mouth was exposed by snarling lips, and his pupils were dilated like those of a hunter. He saw Emily sprinting around the hole in the floor, and then ran directly towards the center of the room. Emily was just paces from the door when Jabbar leapt into the air—clearing the massive chasm in the room’s center with a single bound—and landed before her on both feet.
