EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (27 page)

“Putrefaction,” Sara said while crouching low.

Ezekiel stared. “But how? He’s hasn’t been dead but for a few minutes. For that matter, why is the horse dead anyway? There’s an arrow sticking out of his right leg. That’s enough to maim him, not kill him.”

Sara grimaced as she looked around and scoped out the battle scene.
Damn curators and their need to know. It doesn’t matter how or why he died. It matters that we get the hell out of here
.

Sara grabbed Ezekiel’s arm and tugged to get him to follow her.

Ezekiel planted his feet and gripped her arm tightly. “Sara, one of us knows something and needs to share it with the other now.”

“We’re not doing this right now,” she said firmly.

“Oh yes we are.”

She turned back at him with fire in her eyes. “
Look
, Ezekiel. Look around you. What do you notice?”

He did as she bid and she watched as he saw Danger’s stomach bulge up on its left side as if it would burst with the contents spewing forth only to deflate suddenly with a black, gooey mass eating its way through the flesh. Then Ezekiel spotted the man with an arrow through his eye from before. The arrow was gruesome enough. It was what came after that was sickening. The entire socket and half of his face had turned black with a wasting disease of putrid, midnight slime.

“What is that?” Ezekiel said in horror as mercenary after mercenary fell around them with the same disease. Even if their wound from being pierced by the arrow wasn’t deadly, the blackness spread throughout their body at a rapid pace anyway.

“Poison,” said Sara grimly. “The same kind the Kade mages like to use on enemies of war.”

He gasped. “They’re here.”

“Them or their regiment, yes. Which is why we need to go, regroup, and find out how to attack,” she said urgently. “We’re sitting ducks right here.”

He nodded. “We need shields and mages of our own to counteract the falling arrows.”

She looked up at the sky where the black arrows still fell like iron rain all around them. “Or least to get out of range of these blasted missiles.”

“Let’s go,” Ezekiel said, looking around cautiously. “But where?”

She nodded. “Back that way is uphill. We’ll have a better chance of scouting the enemy and any others of our company that got away.”

He gulped audibly.

She turned and whispered fiercely, “Stay low, stay on my back and do what I do and say.”

He nodded and grabbed an arrow to notch into his crossbow.

She raised an eyebrow.

“You never know,” he said defensively. “There might be Kade troops already on the ground fighting our men.”

She said nothing, but she highly doubted it. The Kade mages were continuing their offensive from a safe distance. Why risk your men if you could kill all of your enemies in one fell swoop from far away?

She set out in a crouch low to the ground as she tried to weave around dead bodies, screaming men and overturned supply carts. When they’d gotten maybe forty feet away, she stopped in the shadow of a large wagon with sacks piled high to the top. It was good shelter from which to reassess the situation. Peering around, she took stock of what she saw around her. In the distance she knew there was a dense grove of trees maybe thirty feet away that would provide shelter.

Unfortunately between here and there was nothing but open ground. No wagons to hide behind. No mercenaries to take arrows in their sides instead of her. Nothing but grass and dirt. It would have to be a flat-out run, she decided.

Sara stared at the paths of the arrows overhead and knew it would be bad.

“I think we can make it,” she said.

As the arrows streaked past the other side of her shelter, the sacks above split open and potatoes tumbled from the top to hit her in the sides and on the head. She flinched but didn’t move as she turned her head to check on Ezekiel. He was too silent for such a usually chatty fellow.

Her stomach sank as she realized she didn’t hear his panting breaths for a reason. He wasn’t there.

Groaning, Sara looked back at the carnage of the one-sided battlefield that was now aflame.
 

“Some guardian I am,” she growled as she turned back and dove back into the fray. She had no choice. She couldn’t leave him behind.

Quick and sure of foot, Sara raced around dying men, looking for the one who mattered to her. She was usually unemotional, but never callous. Not like that. But she justified passing person after person by the sight of the arrows in each of their chests. Even if they weren’t already dead, they soon would be. And there was nothing she could do about it. Practicality like that would always win out with her.

Just as she took another step forward for a run, she heard the streak of an arrow coming straight for her chest. Sara threw herself backward and landed on the ground breathing heavily to see a still-quivering arrow in the dead flesh of a Cams orphan who had been running past.

She watched in horror as blood gushed from his pierced neck as he arced his back in pain in a useless attempt to get away. His body fell twitching to the ground and Sara crawled over to him on her hands and knees. Flinching each time an arrow streaked overhead.

The young orphan turned pain-filled eyes to her, and Sara felt her own emotions well up in response. There was nothing she could do for him. He was dying.

But she realized soon enough that the arrow had managed to pierce his neck in the only place that wasn’t immediately fatal. She knew that the poison would eat him alive and dissolve his flesh within minutes, but she couldn’t watch that happen. She shuddered. She couldn’t let him die this way.

Sara turned her eyes back from his pierced throat to his shaking form. His eyes met hers, pleading. He fingered the knife at her waist. She knew he’d been taken from a life on the streets of Sandrin and given a home here with the mercenaries, like most of the Cams had been. But if there was one thing her friends at the fighter school had taught her, it was that an orphan always remembered their life before they had ‘made good.’ And they always made a pact with their friends who lived as they did—in the sewers, in the alleys, in the shadows of opulent homes, under bridges, and in stick hovels—that if one asked the ultimate price, the other would give it. Sara had never been an orphan until recently. But she knew what it was like to have less and want more. To suffer and not have the pain end. To hope someone would be there at her last moment and, if needed, kill her to end the nightmare. In this case, her nightmare was of going berserk and killing those she cared for.

In this boy’s case, his nightmare was of a slow and painful death on the battlefield.

Lips trembling, she raised her gloved hand and placed it over his mouth and nose. Pressing down firmly, Sara waited while his breaths shuddered to a stop. He didn’t struggle. As he died peacefully, she took her hand away and closed the lids of his eyes.

Wishing him a safe journey far from these lands, she turned on her hands and knees to scout for another path.

That was when she saw it.

An overturned weapons cart. She knew what it was because the thin metal disks on the sides were supposed to be spelled for an illusion to
protect
it. They weren’t now.

The mage holding the spell probably died
, she thought.

Which was why the cart was visible to everyone as moonlight’s rays bounced off the thin metal disks and illuminated it in an oddly beautiful display amidst the blood and gore.

Teeth gritted, Sara knew she needed what was in that cart. If not to protect herself from the blasted arrows, then to fight against what was to come. If she could locate a small circular disk known as a finder in the supplies as well, even better. She could use it to find Ezekiel.

She darted forward, this time putting on a burst of battle magic speed that made her fleet of foot and able to dodge arrows without diving to the ground. With a couple of acrobatic flips, one in which she had simultaneously back flipped over one arrow and opened her legs to escape another by letting it fly between her shins. She landed against the back of the weapons cart, yanked the padlock off the door to open it, and jumped inside.

When she did, even in the darkness, she knew she hadn’t gotten to the weapons cart as she’d hoped. It was the
same
cart that she had seen from a distance. But its disguise hadn’t been to hide one of the numerous carts filled with swords, knives, and shields. No, this held something different. She held her breath tensely as her eyes scoped out the too-bare walls around her.

She noted that even though the door had been closed and sealed with a padlock, the air inside was clean and circulating with the even breaths of another person at the far end.

“Who is there?” a woman called out as chains rattled in the back.

Sara was silent. Not wanting to give her presence away. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She desperately did not want to go outside without something to shield her body, but she also didn’t want to get into a knife fight with someone else inside of a cart that at best was four feet high and four feet wide. She had no idea of its length, but she guessed double that.

“Who is there?” said the woman again. “Please help me.”

Sara eased back and halted before stepping outside. The sound of a renewed hail of arrows stopped her from exiting. The rain of arrows before she entered had seemed like a lot. But this sounded like a torrent was coming down in a renewed assault. If she backed out of the cart, she was as good as dead, no matter how many flips and dodges to the side she was able to do.

Growling, Sara stayed put.

She took out her knife. The woman sounded helpless. But you never knew.

Sara said, “I’ll ask the questions here. Who are you?”

The woman’s voice echoed in the night. “I’m Nissa.”

“Nissa,” said Sara carefully. “Why are you chained here? Be careful of your answer. I’m just as likely to slit your throat as help you if I don’t trust what you’re saying.”

That was the absolute truth. She didn’t have time to rescue a woman only to learn she was an enemy out to kill her.

Nissa answered. “My name is Nissa Sardonien. I am a mage. I am a prisoner of the Empress of Algardis.”

That was smart
.
In one stroke she’s told me she’s useful either way. If I was an ally of the Kade mages, I would free her. If I was an ally of Algardis, I’d be sure to keep her shackled but safe for the imperial court’s reward.

Sara took a step forward. Her outstretched hand held a globe of battle fire. It lit the interior of the cart in a stable glow. Stable in the sense that it wouldn’t combust in her hand. Not unless she did something stupid, like fall to the floor. The light was enough for her to see Nissa. She wore a white robe with a parted slit down the front and long, gossamer fabric that covered even her feet. Her hands were hidden by the draping sleeves.

“Show me your hands,” commanded Sara. “Slowly.”

Nissa raised her hands as far as she could, until they were just above her seated waist and her palms were out. The chains prevented her from moving them any higher. Then Sara saw what covered her arms. Like thin sheets of metal they sheathed each arm from the wrist to the elbow. They weren’t innocuous jewelry, though. Those were mage bands encircled that prevented Nissa from working magic.

“What kind of mage are you?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” Nissa said, lifting her chin so that her long and straight hair fell back to reveal a defiant look on her face.

“Try me.”

“Very well, I’m a sun mage.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” said Sara. There were a lot of mythical things showing up in her life right now, but having a living sun mage show up was taking things a little too far.

Nissa’s lips thinned, but she said nothing.

“Even if I
did
think you were telling the truth,” said Sara, “the only living sun mage was killed by her Kade mage compatriots months ago.”

“I am she,” Nissa said defiantly.

“
You
are the nameless one? The scourge of the battlefield that set fire to thousands of men with a sweep of her hand? That woman that caused the red rays of the sun to pierce the tents of imperial mercenaries as if they were weapons? Weapons that burned the flesh off men as if they stood in the middle of a raging fire pit?”
 

Nissa let no regret show on her face. “I am.”

Sara crouched down as she watched Nissa’s eyes and the cart rumbled as the sound of a trumpeting war elephant rushed past. Once it had stilled again, Sara said, “So then tell me, Nissa of the Sun Mages, why are you still alive? You stand amidst thousands of your enemies. Each of which would gladly roast your head above a pit for the friends you’ve killed.”

Nissa smiled. “Why don’t you ask your captain?”

Sara flashed a bitter grin. “I asked you, and I’d be careful to not dodge my questions again. I’m not having a very good day.”

“So I see,” Nissa purred as she leaned back against the wall, the thump of her chains against the wood the only sound.

Then Nissa sighed. “I was taken to Sandrin to be given an opportunity to help the empress of Algardis find…something. I refused at first. But after some persuasion I agreed to do what was asked of me.”

Nissa shifted and Sara’s mage light shone on something curious. Narrowing her eyes, Sara noted in a flash scars that been hidden before. Deep, parallel grooves on Nissa’s chest just below her breasts.

“They tortured you,” Sara said.

Nissa nodded. “The standard imperial fare for prisoners of war. It was what came after that that convinced me to turn on my compatriots.”

“And what was that?”

“The future,” said Nissa.

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Nissa opened her mouth and then a shriek of a different kind broke their concentration. It wasn’t the sound of a human or animal screaming, but the sound of an object that Sara had only read about in her textbooks. But she recognized it instinctively from the drills she had endured at her father’s hands. It was the sound of a ball of battle fire coming down.