Junipor rushed into the room, finding all three of the Aiverix warriors on their knees. They were coughing profusely and writhing in pain. Sly screamed until his voice turned into a guttering spasm, the skin of his arm began to slip off like loose rolls of scroll paper. Dunsk was throwing up buckets of bile, his eyes were melting in their sockets.
Junipor screamed as she saw Trixy get up, her skin was sickened like that of a cadaver. The warriors gums were shriveling to expose rotting teeth, and a decomposing tongue slipping through her jawline.
“No, how could you! You’ve opened the cauldron!” The red haired stranger wearing a red robe cried out in alarm.
“What is this?” Junipor couldn’t believe what she was seeing, it was a living nightmare. All three of the warriors were falling apart in front of her eyes. A cracked open cauldron sat at the back of the wall, it was spewing a thick dark blanket of corrosive liquids all over the floors.
“This is bad, I have to contain this now.” The red haired strange woman took a step forward.
“How?” Junipor asked with a stutter.
The strange woman looked over her shoulder with a frightful glare. “I’ll drain their souls before they’ve been taken by the Mouldering.”
“Their…souls?”
“Yes,” the answer sounded devoid of any emotion, “ It’s the only way.”
“No,” Junipor pushed her away.
One by one, all three of the Aiverix warriors of the Yew clan got up on their feet. Their limbs were shaking as something diabolical wracked through their bodies.
“You idiot, I have to! They’ll be slaves to the pestilence otherwise!” The red robed woman tried to interject over the noise of the others screams.
“What are you—“ A slash interrupted her. Junipor felt a thick burning sensation run down her arm. She jolted to the side to see a slice of meat peeling from the wound. She cried out in pain and quickly jumped back.
Sly lifted up the hatchet coated in her blood, and lunged again.
Junipor pulled her knife from her waist and tried to riposte the axe’s thrust, but his weight was too grave. Junipor found herself on the backfoot, trying to stay out of reach as the axe’s sharp edge slit through muscle and chipped at bone. But with each attack, Sly became slower.
Trixy tried to attack as well, reaching out with a sword that was quickly dulling in her grasp. Her movements were awkward, as if being guided by an unseeing hand.
Dunsk struggled to advance, falling back on his knees, he continued gurgling and dry heaving. What was left of his eyes plopped onto the stonework.Amidst all the gore, Junipor saw her opening, and returned a stab at Sly under his arm. It didn’t phase him, instead he grabbed hold of her and hacked at her thigh.
Junipor screamed in pain as Trixy then jabbed at her shoulder. A painful kick helped to dislodge her, but Junipor’s body felt like it was on fire. She felt her fingers growing weak as blood streamed down her arm, coating her fingers and the knuckles of her fist.
Just as Sly was about to make another attack, someone caught him and pinned him in place. Somehow Dunsk, with his eyes gone, was able to sense where he was and hold Sly down. Dunsk was fighting whatever was driving his sickening body, but it was a losing fight. He tried to speak but his words were almost impossible to make out. Junipor could’ve sword it sounded like he was begging her to kill them.
Junipor pulled her pistol from her belt, its crude oak grip stuck to the blood in her palm. She aimed as best she could, then pulled the trigger.
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Nothing happened. There was no discharge or spark, just a sharp click as the hammer met the firing pin.
“You kidding me!” Junipor cried out in frustration. In her fright she realized she had forgotten to light the flint, and there was no time.
Trixy launched at her again. Not sure what else to do, Junipor threw the gun at Trixy’s forehead. The impact caused the dying veteran to drop her blade. Junipor grabbed it in mid air, and sliced at Sly’s throat. The blood that leaked from the wound was black, and smelled of sulfur. But despite his wound, he still moved.
“Damnit,” Junipor tried to walk back.
“Let me drain their souls,” The stranger tried to reach out but Junipor pushed her back again. Junipor struggled to make sense of this, and hoped it was all a bad dream.
Another jolt of pain made Junipor scream, Sly’s axe cleaved at the meat of her shoulder. It caused a spurt of crimson to shoot in the air. With adrenaline fueling her limbs, Junipor struck back with a swift jab. She ignored the metallic taste in the air as the rusted blade sliced into Sly’s skull. Yet even as Junipor withdrew the blade, she couldn’t believe that the sickened Aiverix still walked.
The red haired woman stepped forward, stopping Trixy in her tracks with a hand on the warriors arm. Where she touched her, Trixy’s body began to fade, and dry out like an aged husk. Trixy’s voice, her real voice, screamed out in pain, begging for it to stop.
Junipor sliced upward, cutting through Trixy’s arm.
For some reason, none of the Aiverix seemed to notice the stranger. Even after trying to drain Trixy’s soul, they didn’t seem to care. “You idiot I have to do this.”
“No,” Junipor turned to face the dying warriors. Her hand clutched at the sword withering away into rust, and drove it forward.
Junipor woke up in a cold sweat, her head throbbed from an intense migraine. Three weeks had come and gone since that terrible day in the Sacred Sands, and yet still Junipor couldn’t shake the nightmares that plagued her each night. Her body was still wrapped in bandages, her sister had taken it upon herself to help replace them when needed.
The dragon knight had come from across the ocean, supposedly charged with a quest from his king. He was trying to reach the Fanfow mainland but a storm caused his ship to drift off course, and eventually sink. He flew as far as he could until finding the small island of Hightsland. He had heard of the islands of fear, but didn’t know thats what was on the horizon. Not seeing another option, he glided upon exhausted wings until landing on the islands shore. He then marched west, only to find himself in the Sacred Sands. Dust storms prevented him from flying again, and he quickly got lost…until stumbling upon Junipor and the entrance of a buried temple.
After saving her life, the Dragon hadn’t left the village. Over the past three weeks he had become a curious enigma for all the Pharine villagers. Dragons were known to come from the Island nation of Soverland, which was far to the west. Few ever saw them on the main continent, and fewer knew what they looked like. To Junipor’s knowledge, a Dragon had never set foot on the frozen tundra’s of Fanfow until now. It was surprising to learn that they were surprisingly humanoid in stature, with scales along the spine of their backs and glorious wings upon their shoulders. Currently the knight was in the tavern, where he spent most his days, and Junipor had yet to thank him for saving her.
It felt so strange, so wrong, to acknowledge the events that took place in the Sacred Sands. To say out loud that she was the sole survivor, and the three warriors she had lead into the desert had perished under such bizarre circumstances, made her feel sick.
Junipor wanted desperately to pretend that it never happened, but each night she was forced to re-live that dreadful experience. Slowly she adjusted her position under the sheets. Francesca was curled up alongside her and was rudely awoken by Junipor’s movement. The fennec looked up at Junipor in annoyance before giving a cute yawn, and beginning the long process of pacing in circles to find the perfect place to get comfortable again. Junipor rolled to her side and curled up in the fetal position, her tail reached around so that the tip of its fur padded her nose.
Her wounds still ached, but luckily none of them were life-threatening. The gash in her left shoulder was the most painful, even after three weeks it required extra layers of bandages to keep from re-opening. There was a genuine fear of infection, but had it not been for the Dragon Knight’s expertise in battlefield medicine things might’ve gotten much worse.
Junipor knew that she needed to find a way to thank him, especially before he decided to leave. But for now she was so tired and even with a fire lit in the corner fireplace, her body was shivering from the cold. Cold sweat coated her brow, she held the blanket tighter. Her naked body, wrapped in bandages, clung to the bed sheets.
Outside, the night was beginning to wane, but there was still a good hour or two before the sun would rise. Junipor closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, hoping that this time there would be better dreams waiting for her.