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Lithoniela, of Baltoris
The Bonemancer’s Effigies
Part I
-Field of Bones-
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The desert approach to Queen’s Oasis Lake,
Near the small border town of Sadofort
Second month of 192 NC
Great Wyvern!
Caruso pulled his blade back, his dark-brown eyes concerned.
“Did I hurt you lass?” He asked seeing Lithoniela puckering her mouth. She moved her left arm right and left to get the feeling back to her numb fingers.
“Your blade is heavy,” she told him, readjusting her grip on Zestari’s shortsword.
“It is,” Caruso replied. “You’re using your weak hand.”
“It’s fine,” Lithoniela replied. “Again.”
Caruso shrugged his shoulder and slashed at her with his longsword. A custom made one, the grip and the blade belonging to different weapons. She tried to parry it away, the force of the bigger blade rattling her arm. The Lorian came at her again stepping forward, but she rolled to his left and then jumped on him.
He pivoted trying to find an angle, Lithoniela’s blade slapping his sides once, before rolling away on the sandy terrain. Caruso came after her and used the point of his longsword to push the lighter female Zilan back, steel tip touching her shoulder until she dropped on her arse.
“You were injured,” Lithoniela protested a little frustrated.
“Not enough to let you get away. You are dead lass,” Caruso replied and gave her his free arm to help her stand up again. “But it was scary what you did there.”
“Ah,” Lithoniela hissed. “Damn it.”
“You did well,” the fighter assured her with a smile. He’d a tooth missing there that made it amusing. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he added. “What?”
“Your face is funny.”
“Is it the beard?” Caruso asked.
“The tooth. Where did you lose it?”
“Never had one,” he admitted. “The gap was always there. I can whistle pretty darn well though.”
“Ha-ha,” she chuckled and then her eyes found Gimoss watching the green Oasis bordering the lake, next to a covered head to toe Aelrindel. Lithoniela’s face darkened.
“You don’t want to think about him lass,” Caruso said.
“Why is that Mister Caruso?” Lithoniela queried and sheathed her shortsword. “He did kill your friend.”
“Brit should’ve kept his mouth shut,” the Lorian explained. “I’ve seen some bad dudes in my life. He’s one of them. Ralnor is the other.”
“In what way?”
“There are three types of killers. The Leper dude is the type that doesn’t give a shit,” Caruso explained. “Ralnor does, but not enough to spare you. He’s the practical one.”
“What is the other type?” Lithoniela asked narrowing her eyes, when Gimoss turned abruptly, shoved the distracted and probably half-delirious from the heat sorceress down and then started laughing hard at her incensed curses.
“Evil cunts that find pleasure in it. Pardon me language lass,” Caruso said.
Lithoniela nodded and Faelar’s wiry figure appeared returning at the distance. The Ranger had left during the night to scout the Lake’s approaches for soldiers. Sadofort was kilometers away, but there had been several battles around the lake and its woods for months during the previous year.
Several small skirmishes and a couple of big ones.
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“There are guards at the fort,” Faelar reported after he unloaded two large leather water bags from his horse, they used to refill their flasks. “One patrol reached the lake and stayed for a bit. Cofol riders. Didn’t have time to approach close enough though. They have cut down the trees on that side to better nail you with the scorpios from the parapets.”
His tone making it clear he wasn’t interested to test their aim.
“Sadofort has a merchant town and a bazaar,” Aelrindel said. “We’ll blend right in.”
“We don’t look like merchants,” Faelar argued. “What about coin?”
“I’ll charm whomever runs the hostel,” Aelrindel countered. “We don’t need it.”
Lithoniela didn’t doubt that.
“Where was the camp?” Gimoss asked staring at the palm trees.
“You mean Prince Nout’s?” Faelar asked standing back. “The other side of the lake, at the edge of the trees. It was overrun twice, burned and looted.”
“Why are we discussing this?” The sorceress protested. “The plan was to go to Sadofort. That stupid town is half a day away!”
Faelar stared at Gimoss puzzled.
“You’ll not find anything of value there,” he told him. “Other than the dead.”
Aelrindel paled and snapped her head at the hideous monster, she had decided to bring along. A decision Lithoniela couldn’t come to terms with.
“No,” she said hoarsely taking a step back. “You’re not having us dig up bodies Gimoss!”
“I doubt they are buried,” Faelar told her. “Why do we need dead bodies Doll?”
“We don’t,” Aelrindel hissed. “He’s looking for the Aken.”
“THAT’S THE DEAL!” Gimoss bellowed as loud as he could, a manic expression on his dilapidated face. The healthy skin burned to a crisp since the mask he frequently wore along the helm reached boiling temperatures in the desert.
“The old camp,” Faelar murmured with a glance at Lithoniela. “How is the arm Princess?”
“Much better,” she told him setting her shoulders and extending her still bandaged arm. “But I’m training in the blade also.”
“Not enough time for that,” the ranger grunted.
“So,” Caruso intervened treading carefully. “We’re going to look for corpses?”
“Arrgh! I can’t… Goddess!” Aelrindel moaned in frustration tossing her arms up and walked away stumbling comically in the soft sand. She seemed to get the hang of it after a couple of tiresome strides, but then she went down head first like a graceful ostrich.
Fine, it was very funny, but everyone decided not to react out of respect for her plight.
Other than Gimoss that is.
“AHAHAHA!”
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Faelar raised his right arm, extended index finger pointing upwards and made a circle with it, signaling for them to gather around him. Lithoniela stood bend at the waist and hurried the twenty meters to the edge of the tree line where the ranger had taken cover. The rest of their group following after her stooped with the exception of Gimoss that just strolled after the sorceress snickering.
“What?” Lithoniela whispered and Faelar pointed at the opening the Prince’s men had cut out of the Oasis to raise his large camp. Lithoniela slotted her bow over her head and crawled on all fours outside the rotting fallen trunk to peek at the camp.
The perimeter wall had been torn down, large parts of it still standing though. Made out of cut palm wood it was a glorified fence more than a defense structure even in its hay day. Not much of the camp remained, the tents had been burned or broken apart, the firepits covered in desert sand. It extended for two kilometers in diameter and one could barely see the tiny white walls of Sadofort in the distance. A small branch coming from the Third Tributary -one of Yeriden’s sources, or feeding, minor rivers- poured in the Lake from the North, but it was well behind them and the land leading to Sadofort was relatively flat terrain.
Good for horses, she thought, her eyes scanning the different shapes and broken up structures of the old military camp. The Prince made sure he’d room to use his cavalry. Prince Nout, now the Prince Heir, didn’t have the time to finish his attack on Sadofort and he had retired to Yin Xi-Yan to recuperate. According to the reports they had received back in Rida, the third brother Prince Atpa had finished the job, but only after most of the trapped Issirs had escaped into the desert overrunning the camp.
There were people moving about inside the camp. She also spotted a couple of them walking in and out of the Oasis but on the other side than the one they had taken cover.
“Well?” Aelrindel hissed.
“I don’t know,” Lithoniela replied. “Scavengers?”
Faelar nodded. “There are more on the outside of the wall.”
Across the camp was his meaning.
“You can see that far?” Caruso whispered.
“I went in and checked,” the ranger grunted. “Keep your voice down.”
“Friendlies?” Lithoniela asked and Faelar shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know.
“What’s on the other side of the wall?” Aelrindel asked washing her face and hands from the dirt they had picked up crossing the Oasis.
Almost a month without a bath had brought the sorceress to the end of her wits. She wanted to dive into the lake immediately, but Faelar had forbade them from relaxing before they could assess the situation.
“They burned most of the dead there,” Faelar replied. “They didn’t do a good enough job and they probably just stopped altogether once the officers were away.”
“The Issirs probably didn’t even bother and Atpa wanted to get out of the desert as fast as he could all of sudden,” Aelrindel hissed. “Fucking snake.”
“They wouldn’t know we’re not fellow scavengers’ right?” Lithoniela probed.
“We carry a lot of weapons,” Faelar pointed. “People might get nervous.”
“I don’t,” Aelrindel retorted and got up. “Fuck. My back is killing me and I have something crawling up my leg that just won’t die!”
“We two go first, check it out and then wait for nightfall to approach with the animals,” Faelar started looking at Lithoniela, but Gimoss rolled out of cover stiffly and walked towards the camp. “Fuck,” the ranger cursed with a grimace. “Now what?”
“Can’t we just leave him do his thing?” Lithoniela asked equally frustrated.
Aelrindel puffed her cheeks out, her tanned face and shorter hair making her look like a cute hoodlum.
“I want to agree,” she said and slotted her flask of water on her large leather belt. “But in the grand scheme of things, I can’t allow him to do whatever the fuck he wants.”
“Why?” Lithoniela asked.
“It’s a cursed family responsibility,” Aelrindel murmured.
“Don’t be an idiot lass,” Faelar grunted.
“He’s looking for Aken Faelar.”
“I haven’t see one for centuries,” he retorted. “They tend to stick out. Most of the times.”
“Eh,” Aelrindel scoffed. “I’m not in the mood for war stories Faelar.”
“I’m going after him,” Lithoniela decided and stood up, Caruso following right behind her asking in a casual voice.
“So, just for shits and giggles. What’s an Aken lass?”
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“You, ugly motherfucker!” Gimoss asked one of the shifty-looking vagabond’s carrying a spear and a large bronze pot. “Are you all together?”
The Cofol half-breed paused to stare at him unsure.
“I’m minding my own business,” he replied in Common, deciding to opt for diplomacy. “This is mostly Derik’s crew.”
“What about the other ones?” Lithoniela asked face hidden under Zestari’s hood.
“Looking for jewelry,” the man replied eyeing her suspiciously. “Are you from Sadofort? Them fuckers have stripped the dead clean already, if you’re fixin’ on finding gold.”
“Thank you,” Lithoniela replied and the man nodded with a grimace.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Sure… kid,” he replied. “Just finish afore the night falls.”
“Why is that?”
The scavenger shrugged his shoulders and put the pot on his head like a helmet turning to leave. “Weirdos come out at night.”
“Aha!” Gimoss grunted and the scavenger hurried to get some distance between them without replying.
“Aha?” Lithoniela probed the deformed freak now staring directly at the sun over their heads.
“We wait for night!” Gimoss barked and crossed his arms on his chest. “Were you dropped on your head at birth? Don’t answer you buffoon! It’s a rhetorical query!”
Lithoniela snorted and went to intercept the others that were cautiously approaching from the Oasis, signaling for Caruso to follow her.
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Hoooo-ho-ho-ho-ho.
The Desert Owl called looking at her. Its large yellow eyes and pale white plumage making it stand out on the branch of the old fig tree. While the Oasis outer layer was protected by the date palms, its innards housed a great variety of plants, mainly peach and olive trees, some showing heavy signs of cultivation.
“You started early,” Lithoniela told the spying bird and Aelrindel who had stopped at the edge of the lake to remove her dirty ‘plebs clothes’ snorted.
“It’s a warning to turn around,” she said ditching clothes before Lith could avert her eyes, then grabbed her pants with both hands and shook them manically to find whatever bothered her. “They’re weird like that,” she added tossing the pants away.
“Uhm,” Lithoniela murmured numbly and watched her dipping in the lake with a scream of delight. There was this impulsive and naughty cheerfulness the sorceress possessed, as much a self-serving way to draw one to her and equally an innocent defense mechanism.
No.
But her mind was already comparing the real thing against the illusion. It made her feel dirty.
Ah stop it.
“How was she? Zilyana?” Aelrindel asked perceptively, her head poking out of the surface, graceful long ears drooping soaked.
“You knew her for far longer than I did,” Lithoniela murmured not wanting to talk about it.
“Not like that, I didn’t,” she replied. “Do you want to know why?”
You brought her up on purpose, Lithoniela thought sourly.
“Why?” She croaked hearing a branch snap on purpose. Faelar was within earshot.
“She was my pupil. Well, my mother’s initially,” Aelrindel replied spitting water out. “I took her role. It’s what we do and what you will also do when you take a pupil. A teacher is a pedagogue and a mother, or father. The bond is very strong. Which is why we don’t taint it.”
“It was just a game,” Lithoniela protested and looked away. “It didn’t mean anything for her, or me.”
“It did and I was talking about Faelar,” Aelrindel argued calmly. “You can either have a trainer, or a partner. Pick one Princess.”
“So you’re setting rules now? I thought I was free to do whatever I wanted,” Lithoniela murmured. “If you were so close with Zil why befriend Gimoss?”
Aelrindel slapped her hand on the water’s surface angry and stood up in all her naked glory, the water stopping just below her navel. Lithoniela realized she was standing in the shallows all this time.
“I made the trade to save us both,” she replied sternly and crossed her arms on her chest. “I was spent and you were injured. It’s called survival. I can’t befriend him, the bastard killed my Rin and Zilyana. He also killed many members of the Coven. He’s a god darn monster. But sometimes you have to move forward, else you’ll lose everything. Trying to kill him all over again will offer me nothing but a fleeting rush I never looked for a month ago. It won’t bring anyone back, but it could rob me of those I care about,” Aelrindel sighed at that. “There are a lot of monsters out there Princess. This monster has its mind elsewhere.”
Lithoniela nodded and stared at her boots.
“Gimoss told me I was avenged, after he killed Zil,” she murmured. “What did he mean?”
“Eh, let the past be. Best you keep away from him,” the sorceress griped and then dived backwards into the lake. A moment and her head emerged again out of the surface, her shorter hair plastered back on her skull and her eyes glowing in the coming darkness.
“Are they right?” Lithoniela asked. “The birds.”
“They are,” Aelrindel replied her voice strange. “They can see the threads of the future. Which is why you don’t go about asking them.”
“You do.”
“That’s true,” Aelrindel replied sadly. “But I have already looked dear.”
“The Sibyls got stuff wrong all the time Ael,” Lithoniela said to cheer her up and she nodded a relieved smile forming on her luscious mouth afore she chuckled a reply.
“You know what Princess? You’re darn right there.”
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“What is he doing?” Lithoniela asked keeping her voice low two hours later. They had returned to the now fairly quiet destroyed campsite. Gimoss hadn’t moved from the spot they had left him.
“Leave the wyvern to do his thing,” Faelar hissed and reached for her injured hand. “Can you pull the string?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. Stop lying. Stay behind me. Keep quiet,” he grunted dropping her hand and rushed across a large destroyed and half covered in dry mud tent. Lithoniela ran stooped after him, Caruso following two meters behind them but quickly left out of sight, whilst Aelrindel sprinted towards Gimoss.
Faelar moved fast, zig-zagging to avoid discarded broken tools and gutted saddles. Some tents poles still stood, resembling long spears stuck on the ground, treacherous unseen lines connecting them. Lithoniela held her breath and leaped when the Ranger in front of her did it, then rolled behind the still standing west part of the torn down walls, next to him.
“Remnants of pyres. Them black mounts,” Faelar whispered, bright blue eyes glowing in the dark and Lithoniela popped her head to see for herself. The barren field uninhabited at first glance.
Then she saw a shadowy figure stooped on the ground.
Another two fifteen meters away.
“Are they?” she whispered and Faelar signed for her to keep quiet. “They can’t hear us,” she said lowering her voice even more. “Can they?”
“I need to approach.”
“I’ll do it,” Lithoniela said and Faelar turned to stare at her.
“You don’t know what to look for.”
“I want to learn Faelar. You are not tasked to protect me.”
“Eh, that was uncalled for,” the Ranger said with a grimace. “I’ve done Edlenn’s bidding all this time. This I’m doing for me Princess. Stay.”
Damn it.
He made to get up but paused undecided. “She’s half right you know. The sorceress.”
Eh, a ranger’s ears hear everything, she thought.
“What’s the wrong part?”
“You need to preserve your line,” Faelar murmured.
“What about yours?”
“I had a son, the Queen’s war and my stubbornness took him,” he said. “But we can’t squander yours. We almost went extinct in the blink of an eye.”
“I’m way younger than Ael,” Lithoniela argued a little uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t you speak to her first?”
“Ah, you grew up in the bloody woods, but you have your mother’s wit,” Faelar grunted and then puffed out. “Forget about the sorceress. Aelrindel got spoiled beyond repair since birth. She can’t live without drama, or glory, but you can and you should. Something must be left behind. This is bigger than you or me Lithoniela.”
She didn’t exactly expect to think about that, given where they were, but the ranger sounded genuine.
Even caring.
“You want us to have a baby?” Lithoniela asked him blandly only half joking and the old ranger shook his head. “Can it wait after we finish whatever it is we’re doing here?”
Only the latter part was more a taunt.
“As I said equally witty, as pretty. Don’t presume you’ll be able to do it on the morrow, or that any of us will be available,” Faelar replied with the hint of a smile and covered his head with his hood. “Try to stay in the dark,” he told her and jumped out of cover.
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Lithoniela spotted three more human figures moving about in the dark and searching the ground for corpses. She heard movement coming from the nearby trees on the other side of this roundish half a kilometer wide field, hugging the west walls of the campsite.
They were plenty of corpses around. Most rotted away leaving behind bleached or blackened bones where the fire had touched them. But it was a shoddy job this, she thought walking carefully over broken skulls and legs and crackling large piles of burned remains. Done in a hurry and abandoned when Atpa’s army moved on. The guards at Sadofort uninterested to finish it properly. The dead were left to the elements, the Oasis moisture and the desert sun eating at them in the months that followed. No sign of who the dead were was left behind. Cofols, or Issirs now joined in silence.
Their final resting place a field of bones.
Faelar stopped near the first figure and the man slowly got up dropping the long radius bone he held down. A Lorian, his head and mouth covered with a scarf.
“Use the other pile,” he rustled eyeing the silent Faelar. “This one is occupied.”
“Any loot?” the ranger asked casually.
“Nothing today.”
“What about the others?”
“Go and ask them. Fuck off was my meaning.”
Faelar signed for her to move after him towards the next group. Lithoniela rushed after him a little spooked by the eeriness of the place. It reminded her of Oakenfalls and she didn’t want that memory spilling out.
But it did.
Faelar paused and turned to glance at her worried. The two men digging in the ground at the base of the large long extinguished pyre stopped what they were doing and looked at them.
“We’re looking for gold,” Faelar said in an unconvincing manner and Lithoniela touched his left hand comfortingly, her voiceless song assuring him she was fine.
“No gold,” the Issir said. “But you might get lucky.”
“Right. Mind if I look around?”
Lithoniela examined the two men. They were both Issirs, which was a bit strange, but they looked normal and dressed in simple tunics. Another man came towards them. This one clad in Cofol white leather armour, a saber strapped on his waist.
“Go ahead.”
“Are you a hunter? The Oasis is the other way,” the second Issir asked, a large bag held with a rope over his back, looking rather heavy.
“Looking for different prey tonight,” Faelar retorted tensely. “What’s in the bag?”
Lithoniela took a sideways step unsure what had the ranger agitated, the approaching armed man answering with a query of his own.
“What’s under the hood?”
A Lorian, she thought. Pretty good looking.
Wearing a Cofol officer’s armour.
Hmm.
Faelar shoved her away and kicked the nearest Issir squarely in the chest hurling him back. Lithoniela gasped twirling around on a leg and realized the Lorian was rushing her way with his blade drawn.
What in all hells? She thought and jumped away from his attack. The man paused and then came at her again his saber swinging. Lithoniela stumbled on cracking bones, a little panicked and unsure whether to use her shortswords or her bow, but found her footing quickly and stood up to face the approaching masqueraded Lorian.
“Did you steal that?” she taunted mostly to get her courage back, unsheathing her blades one after the other.
“What’s under the hood?” The man repeated and Lithoniela realized she couldn’t feel any emotion coming out of him.
Neither anger, nor fear.
Not even bloody curiosity.
Oops.
“Hey!” Faelar bellowed and the man turned his way, a steel-tip arrow exploding out of the back of his cranium, the ranger’s close shot nailing him between the eyebrows. Her opponent stumbled back, neck snapping violently the same way but faster than his body, a solid crunch as if something had broken and then he went down.
Lithoniela gave him a glance and leaped over his body to help Faelar. The ranger had stabbed the second Issir below the left shoulder, the blade left there, then turned and fired an arrow on the Lorian. The first Issir, the one he’d initially kicked, had gotten up in the meantime and lunged at him going for his neck.
Faelar fell backwards taking the man with him and Lithoniela found herself climbed on the back of his opponent. The ranger punched him in the face snapping his head back and into Lithoniela’s chest, but the Issir withstood it without a single moan, unlike the groaning female Zilan. The Issir reached and wrapped both hands around Faelar’s neck next.
“Ah,” the Issir said seeing the ranger up close as the latter thrashed his head right and left to escape strangulation. The scavenger pressed down harder using their combined weight. He seemed to pin the ranger down for a moment, but the next he got stabbed by Lithoniela’s blades through both ears and froze up completely.
“Hells!” Faelar croaked and shoved them both off of him, then grabbed his bruised throat with his hand. “Are you alright?”
She nodded and went to get her blades out, a shadow standing over her.
“Naah!” Lithoniela gasped and twisted away, a hand clasping her shoulder and pulling her back, fingers digging in through the soft leather. She screamed in the Issir’s face afore her elbow cracked the man’s nose, but he recovered surprisingly fast and reached with his other hand for her throat.
Lithoniela jerked her head back almost breaking her own neck and then got gore in her eyes and mouth. She coughed it up, the grip on her shoulder relaxing and then Caruzo’s voice was heard as the mercenary yanked her upright by her bad elbow.
“ARRGH!” She hissed in his face gulping down foul blood and then stooped to spit it all out again. “What is this?”
“Apologies,” Caruso told her worried. “I thought I cut you.”
“You didn’t,” Lithoniela gasped and eyed the ruined face of her opponent. Caruso’s blade had exited out of the mouth creating a gruesome cross, like a bloody second opening there. “I meant his blood tastes like lead.”
“He’s a construct,” Faelar informed them and used his peleg to chop the first Issir’s head off. “Dismember the others quickly.”
“What?” Caruso asked ogling his eyes and the recently killed Lorian got up, Faelar’s arrow still stuck on his cracked forehead. “Mother of all griefs,” the mercenary said bewildered and turned around to face the reanimated construct. “The fuck is this thing?”
Lithoniela flanked the Lorian and the man’s bloodshot eyes followed her disregarding Caruso. She got her bow out, her heart thundering in her hurting chest, nocked an arrow and loosed it nailing the approaching freak at the same time as Faelar. Her’s smacking him in the chest going through reinforced leather and the ranger’s hitting him under the right shoulder blade. The Lorian stumbled on his feet, but didn’t go down. He just set his eyes on her blankly. Lithoniela had another arrow nocked, her right arm burning in pain, but Caruso’s chop got to the staring Lorian first.
The mercenary had used so much force, the chopped off head almost connected with Lithoniela and she had to step aside, a fresh coat of foul gore covering her.
“Here they come in the dead of night,” a voice sang coming from the nearby date palms in almost unrecognizable Common. “A master and his pupil to add to the blight,” an unnaturally tall figure had come out of the foliage. Lanky and sinewy, carrying a staff, dressed in plain long robes. Hands, chest and neck painted white, ending just above his upper lip. Snake eyes and forked energetic tongue adding to his wraithlike appearance.
It reminded Lithoniela of the freak in the woods outside Rida, but this creature clearly wasn’t him.
“Suharto?” Faelar said gravely. “You’re not supposed to farm in Raoz.”
The Aken stopped less than fifteen meters away and regarded them.
“Close enough King’s Ranger. I’m Grogoceq. Would it be remiss of me to presume that treaty annulled? Something about you lot getting the god’s scorching steel shaft up the arse. He-he,” he sniggered and locked his eyes on Lithoniela with great interest. “Absolutely fascinating,” he commented licking those mauve lips with a meaty forked tongue. “I’ll have you last.”
Lithoniela opened her mouth to rebuke him, but sensed the shadows coming alive around them. The seemingly empty field now sporting many more silent figures standing up, as if awakening from their stupor.
“What in Naossis’ tits?” Caruso gasped looking about him.
“Fall back!” A distressed Faelar bellowed and loosed an arrow at the smirking Grogoceq. The Aken dissolving into thin air and reappearing next to Lithoniela. The Zilan flinched backwards and dived left into a roll, turning around to fire an arrow when she landed on her feet.
She missed everything, the Aken nowhere to be seen.
Goddess!
“Get her out of here!” Faelar grunted slotting his longbow and getting his steel peleg out along with a long dagger. “We can’t fight a fucking Bonemancer in the dark.”
“He-he. I lied,” Grogoceq gushed in Lith’s ear from behind, white elongated very veiny fingers wrapping around her free wrist, when she went to her quiver for another arrow. Lithoniela smelled burnt bone and then screamed feeling her own wrist-bones cracking. “Mmm. I’ll put them back. Don’t worry,” the Aken whispered sounding aroused and dragged her near his insect like hard body. She heard a buzz, the air turning into a foul-smelling gooey substance, everything around her wrapping and dissolving. The camp, the sky and the Oasis gone.
They landed inside the woods twenty meters away and back into their realm.
The night turning into day a moment later.
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
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