Was their wagon under attack? As hopeful as she was that someone had rescued them from the slave traders, Malika was also wary that their saviors would become the girls' new captors. A wagon with three women inside wasn't worth as much as a bag of gold, but each of them, even the woman in the corner, would fetch a fair price in the slave market.
Malika waited for the next sounds, but nothing reached her ears. Had their attackers left after vanquishing the slave traders? It seemed odd that not one of them remained behind to inspect the carriage.
Making up her mind, Malika let go of her sister and shifted her body so that her legs pointed in the direction of the wagon's door. She asked Kappai to do the same. "We have to get out of here before anyone returns."
From their seated position, the girls kicked at the wooden door together. It shook but held firm. They took a deep breath and kicked once more. This time, the entire carriage shuddered, but the door didn't crack.
"What are you two doing?" The older woman propped herself up on one arm. "You're going to get us in trouble if you keep doing that."
"The slave traders are gone," Malika explained. "Someone drove them away, and we should leave before they come back."
The woman's interest suddenly piqued. She stood up and joined the siblings in front of the door.
"Once more, all together this time," Malika said.
In unison, the three women struck the door with their feet. A satisfying crack signaled that the door had splintered from its hinges. They gave one more kick, and the door fell open.
The woman jumped out first, followed by Malika and Kappai. Before she gave the sisters a chance to thank her for her help, the woman ran toward the front of the wagon.
"No!" Malika shouted, but it was too late.
As if she had suddenly fallen asleep, the woman's feet stumbled, and she fell. A scream emanated from her mouth, but it died in her throat before it reached full volume. The woman didn't try to cushion the blow of her body as it struck the ground. Her arms hung loosely by her side as she collapsed in midstride. She was dead before her face hit the dirt.
Three other bodies lay in front of the wagon. The two screams they had heard earlier, both slave traders. The third corpse belonged to their leader. The horses the dead men rode on were gone, but the horses that pulled the wagon remained tied in place. Their lifeless bodies lay in the road, as inert as the dead men and woman.
Kappai shivered as she held her sister. "What happened to them? And to the woman who was with us?"
Malika saw what caused their deaths hovering in front of the carriage. She also knew why Kappai was unaware of what had happened. Malika possessed the rare ability to see the floating apparitions. "We shouldn't go that way. There are ghosts."
***
The sisters stepped between the trees as quietly as they could. The bed of dead brown leaves that littered the ground made it impossible to walk in silence, but they did their best.
Having fled in the opposite direction, the ghosts weren't whom they tried to hide their presence from. The otherworldly creatures also barely acknowledged the existence of the people and objects in Malika's world. Although Malika was one of the few who could see ghosts, she knew as little about them as everyone else. Their occasional intrusion into her world was a fact, but no one knew where or when they would appear. Why or how they crossed over was also a mystery, but one that fewer people cared about. From Malika's past experiences, the ghosts appeared oblivious to their surroundings. They merely existed, and the fact that they killed anyone or anything they came into contact with was, in her opinion, tragic but unintentional.
Malika was more concerned with the slave traders or other strangers they might encounter. Two slave traders had fled when the ghosts appeared, and the sisters had seen no signs of either man since. Because of the ghosts' location on the road, Malika chose a route that took them in the same direction in which the two men had run. There was no telling if they stayed on the road or if, like Malika and Kappai, they had also wandered into the woods.
A larger problem facing the sisters was the lack of food and water. Hours had passed since they escaped from the wagon, and their last bite to eat took place the night before, when the slave traders gave the three prisoners a loaf of stale bread and a canteen of water to share between them.
With the arrival of autumn, the trees had already lost their fruits. Bare limbs adorned with a few browning leaves stretched from the tree trunks. Malika scavenged the ground for something to eat but found nothing safe. Occasionally, they spotted small animals scampering along the branches, but neither girl had weapons with which to kill their prey, and there was no fire with which to cook a meal.
As they walked, water became a more pressing concern. The hours of walking dehydrated them to the point of exhaustion. The sisters rested frequently, but their thirst only grew.
By the late afternoon, they no longer cared about stealth. They trudged through the woods, feet heavy and sore, throats and lips parched, with their only motivation laying in the knowledge that they had to find some food and water in order to survive. Malika considered letting Kappai rest while she continued onward in search of sustenance for the both of them, but she feared leaving her little sister alone.
As the sun began its descent from the sky, the woods came to an end. Through the last line of trees, Malika saw a humble village not far away. Buildings of stone and wood dotted the horizon.
She urged her sister onward. Kappai, unaccustomed to the strenuous exercise that they had endured, begged for more rest instead. Malika gave her a few minutes. "Let's try to reach the village before the sun sets. If the villagers are kind, they'll feed and shelter us, and you won't have to worry about being tired or hungry anymore."
She didn't voice the alternative. If the residents of the village were unkind, hunger was the least of their concerns.
***
Before they reached the village, Malika saw that something was wrong. There were no signs of activity as they approached. She expected someone in the village to see the two girls draw near and sound an alarm or come out to meet them. At the very least, she expected to see people walking about the village or busying themselves with work.
Instead, the buildings stood quietly. No fires burned inside any of the homes despite the coming evening. There were no signs of life at all.
Kappai was the first to spot the corpse. A woman lay on the ground near the first house at the outskirts of the village. An empty bucket rested out of reach of her fingertips. Malika saw two more dead bodies outside one of the other buildings. A man and a boy had fallen while carrying piles of kindling. The branches lay scattered around them, and no one had bothered to pick up the pieces.
"Ghosts?" Kappai asked. Malika nodded. There was no other explanation for the sudden deaths. "Are they still here?"
Malika scanned the area, but she didn't see any of the deadly, floating spirits nearby. "Not that I can see, but they may be elsewhere in the village. Stay here while I check things out."
Kappai tried to sound brave, but her voice faltered as she answered, "I will."
Malika kissed her sister on the forehead. "I'll be right back. Shout if you see anyone, but don't go into the village until I tell you it's clear, all right?"
"Yes," came the whispered reply.
Malika smiled at Kappai, hoping to pass along encouragement and courage in the gesture. Then she set out for the nearest building, a modest house where the woman with the bucket had come from.
The door to the house was unlocked, and Malika pushed it open easily. A quick inspection showed the house to be empty. She left, looked in Kappai's direction, and waved to her sister. Kappai smiled and waved back, but she didn't move from where she stood.
Malika went through the remaining buildings as quickly as she could. Inside most of them, she found the bodies of their inhabitants. They had been in the middle of their usual daily activities when the ghosts swept through the village, killing them before they knew what h
ad happened. Malika felt sorry for the villagers, but their deaths solved a problem for her and her sister. She and Kappai now had a place to stay for the night with plenty of food and water.
Malika returned to Kappai and told her that the ghosts were gone. She also shared her plan for the two of them to spend the night at the village.
The sisters chose the house that belonged to the woman with the bucket. Not only was it the closest one, but it was already empty. They didn't need to worry about disposing of a dead body inside.
The kitchen housed more food than they had seen in a long time. The two girls gorged themselves until they were well past feeling full. Malika felt guilty about raiding a dead woman's kitchen, but she also knew that the food would only go to waste if they didn't eat it. After the meal, she found cloth bags, which she packed with more food for their journey tomorrow. Between her and Kappai, they could carry enough to sustain them for a week.
Instead of sleeping in the woman's bed, the sisters chose to sleep on the floor. They had grown accustomed to doing so for the past several weeks, and it was more comfortable than squeezing into the small bed.
"Where are we going tomorrow?" Kappai asked when they had settled under a worn out blanket.
Malika had been thinking for a while about their next course of action. The village where they had grown up was gone, wiped out by invaders. Malika and Kappai were lucky to be away at the time of the attack, hunting for food when the intruders killed their neighbors. The slave traders found them roaming the deserted streets afterwards.
While they were imprisoned in the carriage, Malika overheard snatches of conversations between the slave traders. They talked often of riches and women and topics that she didn't understand, but she remembered one exchange. A man spoke of someday retiring to a city of riches by the ocean. He had never been to the city, but he had come across merchants who had. The slave trader he was talking to scoffed at the idea, saying that the first man would never retire because he'd most likely die in a tavern fight or by the hands of their leader before earning enough money to fulfill his dreams. Both men laughed at the prediction.
The name of the city stuck in Malika's mind ever since.
"We're going to search for Talin. It's west of here, by the ocean."
"I've never heard of it. How far away is it?"
Malika had no idea, but she lied, "Not too far. Just a few days' journey."
"What's in Talin?"
"A great city, and a new start for us."
Kappai didn't ask any more questions. She lay in the darkness, and Malika wondered if her sister's mind conjured the same images of the city that hers had. If Talin was half as promising as her imagination suggested, she was willing to make it her new home.
***
The sun was already high in the sky by the time they woke up. Malika found her legs tight and sore, but she also felt refreshed. She stretched and flexed her limbs, trying to rub some of the soreness from them. Her movements woke Kappai, who felt slightly worse but recovered more quickly.
The sisters ate a breakfast of fruit and bread. They washed it down with water, but the pitcher they drank from was the last full one in the house.
"That must be why the woman was carrying a bucket," Kappai suggested. "She was getting more from a well or a stream."
Malika agreed. She didn't know where the water source was, but she knew that one of the other houses must have more water in their kitchens. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get water from another house."
Kappai nodded absentmindedly. She returned to kneading her muscles, wincing when her fingers found a particularly sore spot.
Malika left the house where they had stayed the night and walked to its neighbor. It was even smaller, and inside, she found the body of an old man at the kitchen. Pieces of glass lay on the floor where a pitcher had shattered. The water that had been inside had evaporated. Malika looked for another pitcher in the house but couldn't find any.
She left and proceeded to the next house. There she found three pitchers of water, enough for the family of four whose corpses now occupied the residence. However, Malika encountered another problem. She couldn't carry the glass pitchers with her when they traveled. She needed to find canteens or waterskins to hold the water.
Malika searched the house but didn't find anything suitable for carrying water.
She left and made her way to the subsequent residence in line.
The quest for water was turning out to be more complicated than she expected. Fortunately, the village was well stocked. It took her only three more houses before she found two canteens and two waterskins, enough to hold water to last her and Kappai for half a week. Carrying more water than that would weigh them down, so they would have to look for another source during their travels.
Malika filled the containers and set out for the house where Kappai awaited her. She could already feel the weight that she carried. Kappai wasn't as big or strong as she was, so she would tire more easily. Perhaps they could sacrifice some supplies in the hope of finding food and drink within a couple of days. They could also eat another hearty meal before they set off today, and they wouldn't have to eat again until tomorrow. Or they could simply stay another night and fully recuperate before setting out again.
"Kappai," she called when she opened the door. "I have another idea. Let's leave tomorrow instead of today."
Her sister didn't answer. She wasn't in the front room, nor was she in the kitchen. Malika set the canteens and waterskins down and went through the house. "Kappai!" Her shouts were met with silence. Where was she? Why hadn't she stayed in the house?
Then Malika saw the blanket under which they'd slept. A tear in the fabric nearly split it in two. A broken plate in the kitchen also hinted at a struggle and told her that her sister hadn't left voluntarily. Someone had taken her.
***
Malika darted out of the house.
"Kappai!" She snapped her head in every direction. Why had she left her sister alone? Why did she think that this village was safe?
Malika raced around the side of the house to face the rest of the village. A man dragged a girl toward one of the small homes at the far end.
"Malika!" Kappai's voice echoed across the village before the man who held her slapped a hand over her mouth.
She couldn't be sure, but Malika believed that he was one of the slave traders who had run away. She didn't know if he was alone or if his companion was also in the village, waiting in the building for him.
Malika broke into a run, any soreness in her legs erased by the adrenalin flowing through her. She had to reach her sister before they harmed her.
The blow came from out of nowhere, knocking her onto her side. Malika's ribs hurt from where her body struck the ground. She rolled onto her back just as her attacker pounced on her. The other slave trader who had fled. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the ground.
Malika pushed against the heavier body, keeping him as far away from her as she could. The man didn't strike her again, but he grabbed her by the wrists to subdue her flailing arms.
"Don't fight it, girl," he said with a grin. "It'll be easier on you if you do what I say."
Malika planned to do no such thing. She brought her knee up to his groin. The man let out a yelp but stayed on top of her. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled as hard as she could. The man yelled again, prying her fingers off.
Malika took the opportunity to roll away. She scrambled to her feet before the slave trader recovered. The two of them eyed each other, both bent at the waist and breathing heavily.
The man snarled. "You did it now. I was going to go gentle on you, but now I'm going to enjoy making you hurt."
He lunged at her, but Malika dodged out of the way. He was twice her size, but she was quick and not as helpless as he assumed she'd be. The months of fending off strangers from her and her sister had taught Malika the basics of protecting herself. She was far from being a skilled fighter, but she was no wea
kling either.
The slave trader rushed at her again with his arms outstretched, but Malika slipped to the side and out of his reach. She could keep dodging him until he grew tired, but that left too much time for the other slaver to harm her sister. Malika had to finish this confrontation quickly.
The man's face reddened at the frustration of not being able to capture his quarry. He came at her with fists swinging. Malika backed up until her back hit the wall of the nearest house. She feinted to one side and then moved to the other.
The man's momentum carried him in the wrong direction, but one fist clipped the side of Malika's face, sending her spinning. Her attacker regained his sense of direction and punched at her again. Malika, still dazed from the first blow, couldn't get out of the way of his second attack in time.
A fist struck her on the side of her head, and she fell to the ground. She tried to move, but her mind felt heavy, unable to send the right commands to her body.
The grin returned to the slave trader's face. He fell upon her and straddled her waist. With one hand, he gripped her jaw so tightly that her cheeks hurt. He leaned toward her until his face was just inches away.
"I'm going to enjoy this, and so will you." Malika felt the hot breath on her face when he spoke, and the reek of his odor overwhelmed her senses. She didn't know what he intended to do, but she knew that she couldn't allow it.
With both hands, Malika searched the ground around her. If she could find a large rock or branch, she could hit him on the head with it. However, the area within arm's reach was surprisingly devoid of anything that could be used as a weapon. She squirmed, wriggling her body back and forth.
"Keep moving like that," the man taunted. "I like it."
Malika inched forward bit by bit. Her arms still groped for anything nearby that she could use as a weapon. One hand finally landed on a small stone no bigger than the man's nose. It was too small to do him much damage.
Nevertheless, Malika brought the stone up against the side of her attacker's head. He yelled in pain, but the blow hadn't knocked him out. However, he let go of one hand to rub the spot where she had struck him.
Spectral Tales Page 13
