Swords of Steel Omnibus

by Howie K Bentley et al.

  Coughing, Argus spoke in strained voice. “You knew your horse was not lost!” Tarsus smirked at Argus but did not respond verbally as he bandaged the wounds of the Arcanian. “How do you suppose those dragons survived all this time? Maybe magik? Or maybe some dreadful curse of the ancients kept them alive to guard that jewel.”

  Tarsus finished tending to Argus’ wound. “If you wish we can go back and find out,” he replied sarcastically.

  Argus chortled a bit, wincing in pain once again. “No, I think I like it out here. That other dragon probably ate the last of the marauders and is still roaming that forsaken temple.”

  After a short span of time Tarsus lifted Argus into the saddle. They started off into the desert, Tarsus leading the black warhorse on foot. Neither of the warriors uttered a word for some time until Argus finally spoke with a weak voice. “Am I to die, my lord?”

  Tarsus stopped and walked back to the Arcanian. “No, my friend, you shall live. We will skirt the steppes to the south until I am sure that we are out of the reach of Saris Borga’s men. Then we will turn back to the west and make our way to the oasis of Tijem. There you can rest and recoup your strength before we head on to Khotar. We have enough water and food in my pack to get us through.”

  “That tall bandit with the red turban. Was that Saris?” asked Argus.

  Tarsus chuckled a bit. “No, he was but a lieutenant. But I must admit the man put up a good fight. He was, let’s say… challenging.”

  Argus sighed. “I have lost my friend Braxus. I have lost the caravan and all my men. My lord, I am of mind to think death would be better than having to face Almec Khan with explanation of failure.”

  “Death will come to us all one day,” Tarsus said. “‘Tis better to look it in the face than to show it your back. Braxus will be missed but he died a warrior’s death and an honorable one.”

  “Tarrak is dead too.”

  “Bah! Tarrak was not worth the piss of a dog, as Braxus said. But Tarrak was correct about one thing.”

  “You mean the dragons?” asked Argus.

  “No! Those were not dragons, but overgrown lizards. What I speak of is that he was correct that touching the gem would bring about doom.” Tarsus produced the finely cut red jewel from a pouch at his belt. “You see, when I saw Tarrak fall dead I snatched this pretty rock. It was then that the gears could be heard moving the wall. I am fairly confident that by removing this gem I set into motion the release of those reptiles. But you need not worry about Almec. I know him and you shall return with something much more valuable to him than his caravan.”

  The two exhausted and aching mercenaries continued traveling into the chill of the night. The sky was alive with sparkling light from the wash of stars above. “I owe you my life more than once, my lord,” spoke Argus. “From this day forward, if I live, I am your man, my lord.”

  Tarsus stepped back a few paces and put his hand on the leg of Argus. “You fought well and it simply is not your time yet, my friend. You will survive this. And from now on no more of this ‘my lord’ foolishness. If you do not wish to call me by name, then call me brother.”

  Argus looked up to the starlit sky and smiled.

  Beneath Dead Lake

  By Geoff Blackwell

  Wings beat the air and feathers danced around Ituanhi, dirt and sand stinging her face. She pushed against the assault, slipped beneath the talons that raked at her face and pressed her sword against a neck covered in gray, downy feathers. A shriek split the air, then all went silent as the struggle abated. Ituanhi’s heart convulsed at the avian face that stared back at her. It was as if humankind had spread his seed into hawks or eagles. It was one of the winged people from the desert highlands, beings that were the subject of horrific tales around the children’s story circles. As Ituanhi steeled herself for the kill, she met the creature’s eyes. They held a spark of intelligence... and fear.

  “Are you a demon?” Ituanhi asked.

  The bird-creature lay trembling for several heartbeats before replying in a voice punctuated by chirps and trills, “I am Seraffi.” Ituanhi knew then that she couldn’t kill him, this frightened creature who spoke in her tongue and stared up at her with liquid amber eyes.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Myself, myself! Seraffi gone, catching the sky, dancing with the wind.”

  “I want to let you go. But if you try anything, I’ll cut you. I swear it by my gods and yours.” Ituanhi hoped that she meant it.

  “This my resting spot,” the creature protested.

  “I don’t care.”

  After a pause, the Serrafi gave her the slightest of nods.

  Ituanhi withdrew her blade, keeping an eye on the skies above and the nearby rocks where she had intended on camping for the night. The Seraffi’s pulse raced beneath her. She rolled away, weapon still poised. He sat up, stretching his arms. It was then that Ituanhi noticed the limpness in his left wing, wretchedly twisted, dragging in the dirt. “You’re hurt,” she said.

  He stroked the feathers gingerly. “No wind-dancing for me.” He lifted his face to the dying sun and cried Kiii-hiii! in a voice loaded with grief. Ituanhi shuddered. Nestled within that avian cry was a sadness and longing which rang frighteningly human to her ears, the way a soldier might weep for a loss of limb. Pity surged through her, pity for this creature who had ambushed her. Inwardly, she cursed her emotions.

  “I have bandages and medicine,” she said. “I’m called Ituanhi, daughter of Ferengal of clan Makkar.”

  The bird-man scrunched his face, perplexed. Finally, “I’m born Anemiki, son of Illias-ka. Your words are strange. ‘Medicine’?”

  “Yes, for healing. Mending. Maybe I can help.” She withdrew a strip of white cloth from a pouch on her belt.

  After some coaxing, Anemiki allowed Ituanhi to look at his damaged wing. About ten inches from the tip, the bone veered away in a painful direction. “I’m going to reset the bone, then bind the wing to your body,” she said, passing him a stray hunk of wood. “This goes in your mouth.”

  He gave her a blank look. “Kiii?”

  “It’s going to hurt.”

  It took her three tries. By the time Ituanhi tied off the bandages, the sun had sunk behind the hills, leaving the sky bruised black, pricked by the light of star and moon. The Seraffi lay against the rocks, panting. Ituanhi scrounged for more scraps of wood and managed to build a small, comfy fire. Anemiki’s head perked up as she roasted a stick of dried iguana meat, shielding it from the wind with her hands. His tongue slid across a row of pointed teeth.

  Ituanhi handed him a piece. “Hungry?”

  He chomped it down and she allowed him a swallow from her canteen. She shook it when he had finished, grimacing at the dim slap of water within. “How long have you been stranded here?” she asked.

  “Two suns, two moons,” Anemiki said, cooing up at the crescent scar above them. “Seraffi are gone now.”

  “Why? Where are they going?”

  “To the great green. Beyond brown sand, over the long blue,” he pointed to the hills, outlined against the final throes of dusk. “Nesting-grounds once there. Not safe anymore. Stolen. No place for Seraffi here now.”

  Ituanhi pointed to his wing. “And that?”

  “Hunting. Had a mistake,” he hugged his legs against his chest. “Seraffi without wing is dead Seraffi. How my mother cried!” He tipped back his head and crooned a sad melody. Ituanhi’s skin tingled as the song fluttered amongst the breeze. The final wavering notes seemed to hang in the air a few seconds longer than they should have before disappearing into the last glimmer of twilight. An eon of chill silence descended upon them, and Ituanhi pulled her robe close to keep from shivering.

  “My father died,” Ituanhi said. “He was a soldier.”

  It was not what she had meant to say. She’d simply wanted to break the silence with a word of condolence for her new companion. Instead, words spilled from her mouth in a flat, untouched monotone. “He went away to fight against an e
nemy clan and was slain during a raid. My uncle took me and my sisters in and promised to care for us. Once he realized how much of an expense three girls would be upon his household, he sold us as wives into the harem of a mountain lord. When the ashes and personal effects of my father were returned, I took his sword and ran away with whatever else I could carry. I escaped, but I left my sisters behind.” Her fingers dug into the hilt of her sword as she spoke. “They wouldn’t come with me. They were too scared. I tried.”

  Anemiki whistled and shook his feathered head. “Sad words, Ituanhi. But I know this.” He pointed to the sword. “You have a long talon!”

  Ituanhi cracked a smile. When their tiny fire smoldered into embers, Ituanhi laid on her back and gazed into the star-pricked sky, tracing old constellations with her eyes until her Seraffi companion kicked up a chirping snore. How funny, she thought, that the two of them should meet like this. He, left behind by his own people. She, running away from hers. If she believed in things like fate, she might have called it a sign. As she drifted into sleep, she dreamed of dust and darkness and scaly things.

  Ituanhi awoke to Anemiki shaking her by the shoulder. “Thunder in the ground,” he hissed as she rubbed the grit from her eyes. Dawn was only just peeking over the horizon, throwing wan light upon the craggy ground.

  Anemiki seemed anxious, as far as she could tell. “Listen, listen!” he said, scratching at the ground with his foot-claws.

  Ituanhi gave him a curious look and pressed her ear to the dirt. Her heart jolted and she stood up, wide awake. “Riders,” she said, and set about gathering her belongings.

  Anemiki cocked his head and gave her a questioning chirp. “My cousin Darsaan is after me,” she said.

  “You are hunted?”

  “I thought he’d given up a few days ago.”

  The Seraffi stood. “We go away.”

  “If they are riding stalkers, we can’t outrun them. Is there anywhere we can hide?”

  Anemiki paused and regarded the landscape with darting glances. “Yes, hide. Cracks in the ground. Not far, not far.” He pointed toward the hills that had once belonged to his people. “Dead Lake. Not a good place.”

  Ituanhi peered in the direction she had traveled from. Already a cloud of dust could be seen to the south. Beyond this, the solitary peak of her homeland speared up from the ground, leagues away, in stark contrast to the surrounding flatlands. “Anything is better than back there,” she said.

  It was two hours of hiking beneath the rising sun before they reached the place that Anemiki had spoken of. Unlike the sharp badland crags, the route leading to the Seraffi hills was smooth, dusted with a blanket of silt and painted in dull layers of red, orange, white and brown. Ituanhi thought back to the way her father had once described the land surrounding the faraway coasts.

  They crossed the hills until the landscape dipped before them in a wide, dusty bowl. Formations of stone climbed the sky in crooked columns, bearing the same layered hues as the walls of earth which surrounded them, dotted by small caves.

  “Once filled with water, say the elder ones,” Anemiki hissed.

  Their path took them down, down, down the water-smoothed slope until the ground near the center split into wide cracks. A large fissure gaped before them, a hideous wound in the bed of the dead lake. Anemiki went forth with halting steps and peered into the darkness. It was a grim-looking hole, filled with dust, shadows, and a foul damp stench.

  “I don’t like this,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Kah! Nor me. But if we quiet, if we careful, we safe.”

  Anemiki lowered himself into the darkness, foot-claws first until he was out of sight. Ituanhi paused before the entrance, hands clammy, mouth dry. Humankind was not meant to go into a place like that. Even as a child or adolescent, she never dared to explore the abandoned caverns and shadow realms of her mountain home. A sharp crack and a Hiyah! from behind made her turn. At the rim of the earthen bowl were seven, no, eight shapes: white-cloaked riders upon pale green stalkers. They rode with haste, the men goading their reptilian mounts with whips, shouting and hollering. The rider in the lead wore a red tunic of nobility. It was Darsaan, come across nearly two weeks’ worth of sand to fetch the runaway bride. Already she could see his grin of triumph as he urged his steed.

  It was all the convincing Ituanhi needed. She scrambled into the opening, her boots scraping against stone. Below her, Anemiki hissed for quiet. Within ten nervous steps, the outside world became nothing more than a cloudless blue scar overhead. Ituanhi found herself surprised, for the earthen chamber was wider than she’d originally judged. A small staircase had even been worked into the path under her feet. Who built these steps, in what dim era? She didn’t dwell on such thoughts.

  Anemiki waited for her in the spot where the final flecks of daylight yet reached. Beyond him, the passage diverged three ways, each one as dark and forbidding as the other. She shuddered.

  “Ituanhi-ki, we could sneak this way, lose them.” Anemiki’s voice was so quiet that she could hardly make out the words. “Some paths lead back outside.”

  “Where do the others go?”

  “Down.”

  “Cousin Ituanhi!” a voice shouted from above. Her blood froze. It was Darsaan. “You have ran far enough. Come out and return home with us. It’s a crime, keeping your new husband waiting for so long.”

  Ituanhi clenched her teeth until her jaw throbbed. As she began to shout back an obscenity, a hand covered her mouth. “Khii, say nothing,” Anemiki whispered into her ear.

  Heavy feet shuffled above. “The stalkers won’t go any closer, sir,” said another voice.

  “You stay here then,” Darsaan said. “The rest of us will go down and drag her out.”

  Anemiki took Ituanhi’s hand and led her beyond the light into total, wretched darkness, as stealthy as a ghost. A symphony of crunching dirt and rustled tunics chorused behind them. Anemiki had chosen the left-forking path and he strode ahead with sure steps, pausing only momentarily to sniff or possibly to drag his claws across the cavern wall. Confused voices rose in the dark behind them. “Light a torch you fools, and split up,” said the voice of Darsaan. The two vagabonds hurried their pace, slowing only for the Seraffi to scuffle vaguely at the stone walls around them.

  The complete and utter blackness flooded Ituanhi’s senses, solid smoke, everlasting night. It damped her soul, closing in on her from all sides. It was as though she breathed darkness instead of air. The rotting smell of the tunnel threatened to choke the life from her throat and lungs. As Anemiki’s path lurched from right to left to right and back again, her entire sense of direction shattered, replaced by a dull, weary numbness which twisted her guts like damp rags. She began to gasp in small, frantic breaths, her heart racing in her chest. Her foot slipped on a loose pebble and she fell, a feeling that Ituanhi would forever remember as pure, infinite oblivion, before crashing against the hard, dusty nothingness of the cavern floor, wheezing, coughing, burning with pain. A pair of gentle hands helped her back upon her trembling legs. The voice of Anemiki cooed to her. “Everything is so dark and close,” she said, finding his hands again.

  A fierce crack shattered the nightmare stillness, reverberating and ringing against the stones.

  Anemiki squawked. “Kiiii! Thunder below earth?”

  Ituanhi shook her head. “It’s a gun. A weapon.”

  More shots, faint voices shouting. No one had caught up to them yet, what were they firing at?

  “Kahiii! What kind of weapon speaks the tongue of lighting?” Anemiki’s grip on her hand slackened for a moment and he sniffed the air. “Oh no,” he moaned.

  A pained scream in the darkness.

  “What’s happening?” Ituanhi asked. Anemiki tugged her hand.

  “Fly! Hurry!”

  Before Ituanhi could protest, the Seraffi picked up his run and the two of them renewed their race between shadow and stone. Anemiki seemed more frantic than before, barely pausing, his show of stealth from
earlier forgotten as the tunnel rattled with the sounds of talon and boot and breath. Through the depths of the world they fled, woman and winged demon, through what Ituanhi would have sworn was the underworld itself. She barely noticed the deepening miasma of filth until she found herself barely able to breathe again. Another family of sound began to chorus through the tunnel: the padding of small feet and an evil hiss that rose and fell like some unholy tide.

  Without any warning, Anemiki quit his run. Ituanhi stumbled right into him, and the two went down against the rocks together. Ituanhi groaned, clutching at her shoulder. It would be bruised fiercely, should she ever see again.

  “What happened? Why have we—”

  “Kssssss! Quiet!”

  Their voices expanded outward, echoing into a vast expanse. Within that expanse, the dull chorus of hissings rose, punctuated by reptilian chatter. The place reeked of slime. The blood in Ituanhi’s limbs went dead cold. Claws scraped against stone all around them, drawn by their commotion.

  “Anemiki…” Ituanhi said, trembling.

  “Ituanhi-ki, I had another mistake. Time for your long talon.”

  “Can we run?”

  “Too late.”

  The pair rose to their feet, unsteady in the darkness. Ituanhi found her sword hilt and drew it forth. The blade hissed against the leather like a living thing and the threatening noises before them drew back for a brief instant. The sword shook in her dirt-scorched hands even as she fell into a fighting stance. Anemiki stepped in, back-to-back against her, his feathers brushing the back of her neck.