When I dreamed, it was always of floating green islands. Slow waterfalls tumbled off the sides of rocky earth and disappeared into smoky blankets of mist and unpainted clouds. I jumped between the floating islands with a lazy, drifting bounce, somersaulting amid endless blue sky, punctured by the occasional flock of giant white birds.
In the far distance, sailing ships passed through the azure air like it was water. Often I attempted to reach these vessels, but even my greatest leaps fell short and left me to land on another lush island, conveniently placed to catch my fall. In this dream paradise I never noticed anything living besides the trees, birds, and the distant ships.
Perhaps it is wrong of me to say when I dreamed, as if I only did it sometimes.
I was always dreaming.
I had dreamed of islands for so long, I knew no other life. Then an awakening began. A soft, orange glow peeled back the colors of blue, green, brown, and white, like a sun rising in the morning. The light came from torches which lit the cavernous mausoleum where I had been kept. I don't remember smelling anything in my dreams, but as my crypt was illuminated, my nostrils filled with the aroma of dirt, dust, death, and terror.
Fear emanated from those who awoke me. The delicious scent of their terror filled the cavern like the light pouring from their torches, reflecting off the stone floor and around the group. The five stood twenty feet from me, three males and two females.
Closest to me was a boy with shaggy brown hair, freckles, and disheveled clothes covered with dirt. He held a leather-bound book, its pages and spine crumbling with wear only decades of use would beget. The boy's flesh almost matched the color of the clouds from my dreams, and his dilated pupils hid the true shade of his eyes. His heart raced like the staccato rush of a warhorse galloping down a rocky slope.
Behind the boy was a man holding a bow with an arrow nocked and pointed at my face. His leather clothes were cut tight against his body and oiled to a soft shine. His long dark hair was tied back and his eyes were giant pools of blue. His hands shook as he struggled to keep from releasing the shaft he had pulled back. There seemed something familiar about the man, but my lethargic brain fought against any attempt to remember, and my eyes darted to the next member of the group.
To the left and five feet behind the man crouched an attractive woman who had recently passed her girlish years. Her thick dark brown hair was knotted up into a ponytail on the top of her head. She wore tight-fitting leather pants and a suede-patched green shirt. The clothes were covered in a fine layer of dirt, splotched with mud. She surely spent an abundant amount of time in the sun, her skin was almost the same shade as the dark patches of leather on her tunic. Her soft brown eyes gazed down the long sight of a heavy crossbow with determination, its unwavering barbed tip pointed at my sternum. The sound of her heartbeat might as well have been a soothing breeze of wind chimes when compared to the boy and archer.
I would have to kill her first.
Five feet behind the brown-haired beauty towered a large, grizzled man who carried a single-sided battle axe and a metal shield engraved with light purple etching. His chain mail hung about him, weightless as comfortable pajamas. He seemed ready for combat, but I tasted his fear like I sampled the dust and dirt in the air. His protective stance made me wonder whom he was blocking from my gaze. I focused behind him, and when my vision adjusted to the light I saw he stood in front of a beautiful girl. She peeped from behind the old man's shield at me with horror and disbelief.
The maiden had long blonde tresses cascading like white waves down to her lower back. A sudden memory of similar hair, but sun bright copper in color, ran through my thoughts and then disappeared before I could capture it. Her eyes were light blue, and her pale, creamy skin made me think of a cold drink of milk on a blistering day. She wore a fine looking purple tunic of crushed velvet and thick leather riding pants. Sparkles of gold at her ears and neck hinted at exquisite jewelry, but before I could focus on the glitter, the girl noticed my attention and ducked behind the big axe warrior.
The young boy said something, so I gently turned my gaze toward him to ensure the man and woman pointing weapons at me would not be startled. The boy stuttered out words I did not comprehend and I squinted at him in an effort to make my brain puzzle meaning from his language.
I sat on a long stone platform. The gray dais felt cold to the touch and it reminded me of the waterfalls that had been my companions for so long. I couldn’t remember anything before the islands. Maybe I didn't want to recall memories from before those dreams.
The boy shuffled his feet and studied his book with intensity.
"Are . . . you . . . the O'Baarni?" he stuttered through a thick accent. The name filled me with memories. A handsome man with dark hair, graying at his temples. A massive battlefield, rivers of fresh blood streaming around countless bodies. Men, women, horses. The smell of flowers and the brief flash of thick copper hair. Mocking laughter.
A single scream of heart-rending agony.
"Are you, the O'Baarni?" he said again, glancing back and forth between his book and my face. I realized that I was clothed in a soft gray robe and my bare feet touched the cold stone of the cavern floor. Sudden energy pulsed through me like the tide of an ocean. A memory of power came to my head, but the sensation was more familiar than a fleeting recollection.
"I do not know," I said. My brain told my mouth to say the words and my lips obeyed reluctantly. Still, he seemed startled by my response. "I have been dreaming. Is this a dream too? Were you supposed to wake me?" The boy glanced down at his book and flipped through the pages with frantic speed.
The large old man barked something command-like, and the boy replied back in their foreign tongue. The skittish man with the bow shifted his feet, but he didn't concern me. I found my eyes focusing again on the dark-haired young woman with the barbed crossbow aimed at my chest. Our eyes met and I held her gaze. After a few moments she started to bite her lip, and her heart began to beat faster. She said something strained to the boy and I gave her a small smile.
"We . . . can . . . not sleep . . . you . . . O'Baarni?" he said with hopeful emotion in his eyes.
Exhaustion crashed into me after the boy asked his question. I wanted to go back to the island, but I fought against the sudden desire to lie again on the stone and drift away to sleep. Another memory struggled beneath a thin layer of emptiness, as if I might be close to recalling something once held sacred.
"I can't remember. What is your name?" I spoke gently, wishing that he would understand better.
"I am named Paug!" He couldn't help smiling with excitement, and I found myself mirroring his enthusiasm. The other four people watching our exchange relaxed somewhat and I guessed that they meant me no harm.
"What are your friends named?" I figured an introduction would keep the woman from putting a hole through the important part of my chest.
He pointed behind him to the man with the bow.
"His name is Iarin." The man seemed startled to be introduced to me and managed a ghost of a smile.
"Her name is Nadea." The woman with the crossbow nodded but didn't lower her weapon.
"His name is Greykin," he said, pointing at the old warrior. Greykin also nodded before clearing his throat and spitting.
"She is Jessmei." The beautiful girl smiled at me and raised her right hand, then brushed the loose yellow hair back over her ear.
"What is your name?" the boy asked me after he had introduced his friends.
I considered the language barrier before answering.
"I don't remember." I tapped two fingers to my temple and shook my head. Paug flipped through his book again and smiled in satisfaction once he seemed to figure out what I had said.
"Do you . . . know . . . sleep . . . years?" he asked.
"It feels like a long time. Many years," I whispered while he flipped through his book. He nodded once I spoke but didn't look up from the pages.
"Do you have . . . hunger? Want food?" he read from the book and then looked at me afterward with an infectious smile.
I didn't feel hungry, but I thought I might get them all to relax if I ate in front of them.
"Yes," I said, and nodded.
The girl in the back yelled something, and she made her way toward a pile of equipment twenty feet behind her. The old man barked disapprovingly at her, but she had already moved outside his reach. He glanced back to me as my eyes followed her. I moved my gaze to the man with the bow, Iarin. His arms were shaking from holding the arrow taut for so long. The woman Nadea also appeared tired from pointing the large crossbow at me.
"Iarin and Nadea should lower their weapons. I mean no harm," I said to Paug. He flipped through his old book, but before he found the translation I made the shape of holding a bow with my arms and lowered it. He smiled and turned to tell Iarin, but the tall man had already lowered his weapon. Greykin made a sharp remark, but Iarin shrugged his shoulders and grinned back at me. Nadea replied to the axe man before lowering her own weapon. Jessmei walked past with a hunk of bread, yellow cheese, and a small piece of meat.
She studied me intently as she walked up to Paug. Greykin yelled out something, causing the blonde girl to open her mouth wide and look at me in fear. She handed the food to Paug before fleeing back behind the safety of the large man.
"Food . . . you," Paug said proudly, not needing to consult his book. He held out the bread, cheese, and meat to me, but he didn't move toward me.
I leaned forward off the stone platform and pushed myself to my feet. As I stood, the euphoric energy of the stone ground coursed through me. My blood burned, awakened and on fire. A metallic sensation filled my mouth, and the cavern spun dramatically. The orange light faded to gray. Nadea yelled, and before my vision faded to black, I saw Paug's horrified facial expression enlarge and distort.
Coolness rubbed against my face as my field of vision spread back from nothingness. I was lying on the stone platform bed. Nadea was applying a cool, wet cloth to my face and lips while Paug hovered on the other side of the dais and rested his palms on my chest.
"You fall down," Paug said, without his book. He looked concerned that I had fainted, but also carried an excited smile on his round face.
"Thirsty. Water," I said as I moved my hand up to touch the cloth Nadea held.
"Yes!" Paug said. He disappeared from my field of vision, and I heard his booted feet rush to their pile of equipment.
Nadea continued to caress my face with the cool rag. She whispered soft alien words I couldn't understand, but her relaxing movements helped me close my eyes and hear the familiar sounds of birds and water. A metal cup pushed against my lips and I sat up, with the aid of a few hands on my arms, and was able to drink. I opened my eyes and saw Paug's companions gathered around me, and I wondered why they were so interested in me drinking. The water burned down my throat like fire. It gave me power that felt like the stone on my feet. I startled, recalling another memory from before my dream. Laughter of friends, food, and water enjoyed with company. The sensation was wonderful.
Paug's cherub face split into a grin when he saw me enjoying the water. It wasn't entirely the pleasure of my thirst being quenched that satisfied me. The water seemed to be magical and was pushing back my fatigue.
"More please," I said, after I had drained the cup. Nadea sat next to me on the stone bed. She handed me a half-full water skin and I drank deeply. A bit of the water dribbled down my face onto my robe. Again I experienced the surge of fire burning inside me. I heard all of their hearts beating and the sound of the air leaving their lungs in the still silence of the mausoleum.
My vision cut through the darkness now like a sharp sword. The crypt was spherical, about six hundred feet in diameter. The pedestal I had been resting upon was in the center of the room. Across the massive dome I made out a small tunnel carved into the wall. The ceiling of the dome was smooth, like the perfectly chiseled floor. It must not have been cut by hand. My guess was that the cavern had been created with powerful magic.
"More?" Paug asked as I shook the empty skin. I nodded, and Nadea had a full one in my hands within seconds. I drank this as urgently as the first, and relished the strength that flowed through me.
"Food?" Paug sat next to me now on the stone platform and handed me a chunk of bread. I carefully took it from him, pulled off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. The bread was hard, so I had to chew many times before swallowing. My audience breathlessly watched every bite, but didn't seem to be afraid of me anymore.
"I am quite a source of entertainment, aren't I?" I said to Paug with a half-smile. He looked confused and then grabbed his book to attempt a translation. Greykin stood ten feet behind the boy, between Jessmei and me. He said something to Paug and the others erupted in laughter. Paug's face turned red with what I assumed was embarrassment. He said something in an apologetic tone before flipping through his book.
"No . . . you need food. You are not strong," he said. I nodded and he turned to smirk in Greykin's direction.
Within five minutes, the bread had been consumed and I tried a small bite of the cheese. It was so delicious that I had to force myself to eat slowly. The pangs of hunger ripped through my stomach now that I had eaten, and I wondered how much time had passed since food had last been in it. The meat was salted and bitter. Perhaps the beef was on its way to going bad, but I still enjoyed the complex flavor, even if each small bite forced me to drink a mouthful of water afterward.
When I finished eating, exhaustion crashed into my body again. Meeting Paug and his friends had been a nice recess from the floating islands, but now I wanted to return. My ears missed the sounds of the waterfalls and the large white birds. My body missed the sensation of leaping through the blue sky.
"I need to sleep again. I am tired," Paug nodded at first, but once he understood what I meant he shook his head.
"No sleep. We . . . go," he said. I ignored him and slid my body behind him to curl up on the stone bed. My legs brushed up against Nadea's as she moved out of the way.
"No. No. We go!" Paug said as the other voices began an angry retort. Their disappointment didn't matter though. The warm darkness began to close in on me. The stone felt familiar on the back of my skull, and the angry voices became like the murmuring of the distant ocean or the hum of a lover's satisfaction.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
There were no more floating islands, birds, or ships sailing through the air. Only seconds had passed before rough shakes on my arm awoke me. A moan of frustration left my mouth, and I winced against the throttle of consciousness. Why couldn't I go back to the islands?
"Wake up, please. Many days have passed. We have to leave!" Paug pleaded. I opened my eyes and saw his worried face. The boy was obviously upset at my wish to sleep, so I pushed my tired body off of the cool stone. The group's pile of goods and equipment was gone and I wondered if I had dreamed the two beautiful women and the boy's other companions.
"We must go!" The boy shook me again. His eyes were fearful and he almost screamed the words. Iarin was pacing behind him like a trapped animal.
"I will come," I said, while preparing to stand. My hand brushed against something on the smooth stone. Very small writing was etched into the rock. Paug noticed the writing a second after I did and gasped.
Kaiyer,
You'll be angry for what we have done to you, but we had no choice. You forced our hand. I hope you can at least understand, if not forgive, our actions. In the end, you were the one who had everything and destroyed it. You were the one who betrayed us.
I wish you weren't so headstrong and could have accepted the world you were about to create. I wish Thayer, Gorbanni, and Alexia hadn't pushed their agenda. I wish you would have chosen differently. Perhaps your choice makes sense to me now that I know everything. I wish everyone could have told you instead of being afraid. We were always afraid of you. I wish you had seen that too. It is why we couldn't let you be.
I wish I didn't love her as much as I did. I wish she had loved me as much as she loves you.
I am sorry my friend. We will be dust by the time you read this, and you will be someone else's problem.
Goodbye,
Malek
Memories washed through me again, and I had to push against the stone to keep from falling. My body felt so weak. Malek . . . I remembered him, at least some of him, standing with my back to his, as dark menacing shapes descended on us. His dark hair and mischievous smile. His face was young, but he had gray at the hair of his temples. He had been my friend, I was sure. I didn't understand any more of these words. Kaiyer? Was that me? I didn't remember my name.
While my mind struggled to recall the past, Paug spread a thin piece of parchment over the inscription and frantically rubbed a small black rock over it. Once he imprinted the words, the boy folded the paper into quarters and stuffed it into the back of his book. My mind continued to search for something more from my past, but it was like trying to hold onto running water. I had the sensation of years of a life lived, but I could not grasp a single moment or solid memory long enough to recall anything of use.
"We go. Now!" Paug yelled at me and pulled on my arm. The anxious pace of Iarin and the stress in Paug's voice convinced me that something was amiss. The tall archer looked back and forth between us and the entrance with obvious concern. His left hand clenched his long bow, but he didn't have an arrow nocked.
I struggled to my feet and managed to stand feebly, like an old man. I might have tumbled over, but Paug let me lean on him. Unlike in the weightless islands, here my limbs convinced me that I must have been heavier than the massive stone slab on which I had been resting. I almost doubted that the young boy could assist me, but he did so without complaint. Fortunately, each step grew easier as the familiar power of the Earth flowed through my blood and added to my strength. Paug said something to Iarin, and the tall man moved to my side to help me walk faster.
By the time we stumbled to the small portal leading from my mausoleum, I had recovered enough strength to stand on my own. Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed them away from me and attempted to walk with my own atrophied muscles. The first few steps were easier than I expected, although my joints creaked like a dead tree in the wind and my head spun.
The exit turned into a tunnel that climbed upward at a medium grade. Iarin took the lead, with me in the middle and Paug behind. The walls started off cut from smooth stone, like the inside of the mausoleum, but gave way to dirt and rough black rock as we ascended.
"Halfway . . . top," Paug said behind me. He sounded out of breath from the exertion caused by the slope of the tunnel. Iarin was almost running and I wasn't having problems keeping up with him. My body still felt weak, but it was quickly regenerating. The exercise was enjoyable, and my body took pleasure inhaling deep breaths while my mind enjoyed the task of placing my feet on the rocky bottom of the dark tunnel.
After another few minutes of jogging, the dirt and stone walls turned into mud and smooth, slippery rocks. As we progressed upward to the surface, a small trickle of water began to carve into the middle of the shaft. The liquid fed glowing green moss that lit the path wondrously, but the tiny creek also made the footing treacherous with slippery slime. The air grew warm and my senses were overwhelmed by the scented plants and dampness of the surface. A few quick bugs darted from underneath my feet before I stepped on them, and I amused myself by studying their frantic movements.
Finally, we emerged from the tunnel and into a densely wooded forest. The trees were tropical, with large leaves pooling the dampness from the air like hands, and pouring the moisture as a soft rain onto the ground. The scents, noises, and light disoriented me after the journey through the dark tunnel. It was more a surprise of contrast, since even the tropical forest, with its green ceilings and singing birds, paled in comparison to the vivid dreams of the floating islands. This new world was very beautiful, intense shafts of light filtered through the thick canopy. The beams of sun accented the dancing purple butterflies and the small lizards hunting them.
The rest of Paug's companions had their backs to us. They held their hands up in a defensive position, as if they were surrendering. When Iarin cleared from my field of vision I saw that they had reason to surrender. Spread out in a half-circle fifty yards away, crossbows leveled at us, stood eight men.
The men appeared to be soldiers, dressed in cream-colored leather armor, with yellow sashes around their shoulders. Each wore a metal helmet that came up to a sharp dome, decorated with plumes of green feathers on the back rim. Their yellow sashes were embroidered with different insignia designs indicating rank.
Their leader said something, but none of my companions answered him. He said the sentence again with a bit more anger, and Iarin answered as he put down his bow and raised his hands. The leader of the armed men glared at me and said more demanding words I didn't comprehend, but I guessed he wanted me to raise my hands, so I did. He sneered at me in disbelief before issuing the same unknown command again.
Paug gave him a fearful response, and the leader of our captors yelled back at him. Paug grimaced at me and kneeled down into the muddy dirt. He deliberately raised his hands and tucked them behind his head once he had reached the ground, and all of my other companions repeated the same series of movements. I looked over to Nadea. Her expression was grim and she didn't make eye contact with me. Jessmei appeared terrified as the pool of mud seeped into her leggings. Greykin's face was a mask of disappointment. His eyes met mine, and although I didn't speak his language, I knew from his posture that these men intended to kill us.
The leader yelled at me again. I glared at him coldly. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight. I was weak, but guessed I might be able to kill a few of them if I got lucky. Of course, having eight crossbows pointed at me meant I needed more than just fortune on my side. My brain sprinted into action and began puzzling ways to kill the soldiers before me.
The leader spat another command at me. He had a thick mustache, and his front tooth was crumbling with decay. His face turned a bright vermillion at my inability to follow his directions, so he handed his crossbow to the man on his right and lumbered toward me. The lackey fumbled with the two crossbows, and for a few precious seconds only six of them were a threat.
As the commander walked down to me across the muddy, mossy terrain, I examined the long sword and dagger on his left hip. Neither blade appeared to be tied in its sheath. It was another bit of luck in my favor, and the refined observation convinced me that I must have been very familiar with the violence about to be inflicted.
"Sit down!" Paug whispered to me as urgently as he dared, without suffering the enemy commander's wrath. I ignored the boy's words and tried to look confused.
The rotten-toothed leader was a little shorter than me, but he pushed his face up, nose-to-nose, so there was no escaping his vile breath. Then he expectorated the same command he had been repeating before. Despite the stench, I smiled to myself when I realized he was probably yelling, “Get on the ground.” I was starting to learn this language. The smile didn't impress the commander. He screamed the command again and wound his right hand back like a whip to deliver a backhanded blow with his leather-clad fist.
That was his last mistake.
My right hand came up and checked the back of his elbow so he couldn't move his arm to strike me. My left hand reached across his body and pulled the dagger from its sheath on his waist. As I drew the weapon, I turned its point inward, cutting past the leather of his armor, the silk cloth underneath, and into his soft belly. The blade was sharp, and it sliced the inside of his stomach open in a long red streak.
The dagger spun sideways as it left my hand in a throw, spinning drops of crimson blood lazily on its fifty-yard journey, before embedding itself into the soldier's neck on the far left. The man choked out a panicked gurgle from the impact of the dagger, and reached up with his left hand toward the hilt coming out of his jugular. I guessed that it would take him a minute to die, but in the meantime he might not be able to aim his crossbow at Paug and his friends.
My left hand returned to the waist of the commander. I took a fistful of belt, armor, and cloth, while the blood from his stomach wound began to gush over my clenched fingers. I lifted with both of my arms and pulled the commander's body off the ground. He somehow seemed lighter than a feather, but would serve my purpose.
I charged the other men with their leader’s body shielding me.
One arbalist to the right took a shot when his commander began to scream in wet horror. The bolt went wide over my head. As I took three more steps, a second weapon twanged, sinking a quarrel into the back of the commander and choking off his cry.
Four more steps and I had made it to the left of the semicircle. A few more bolts whispered past my head as the soldiers tried to kill me without injuring their commander. They should not have bothered trying to spare him. He would die when I finished with them.
The left most soldier tried to draw his sword. His palm had hardly brushed the hilt when I pushed my pointer and middle fingers together and drove them through his eyeball and into his brain. He had a dagger, but to draw and throw the weapon I would have to spin around the body of their commander, temporarily exposing myself to potential crossbow quarrels. These men seemed inept, so I decided to gamble and drew the long dagger out of the dying man's belt before tossing it.
The dagger left my hand at a poor angle, but it somehow corrected itself in midflight like a sparrow and took the final arbalist in the shoulder. The blade sunk into his armor as if it were made of cloth. My target had not expected the toss or the pain in his crossbow-bearing arm. Surprise caused him to pull the trigger and launch the bolt accidentally toward my new companions. I couldn't spare a glance in their direction, but I didn't hear a scream, so I guessed the quarry had not found a living target.
Four of them were left, not including the dying commander I clutched with my right hand, and the one who wouldn't be using his shoulder anymore. The soldier a few steps from me began fishing for his sword, so I pushed the commander's body toward him with as much strength as my weak body allowed. He flew like a small stone, and both of them tumbled backward. The receiving soldier's left foot caught a tree root and he landed with a wet sounding crunch.
The man who had accepted the commander's heavy crossbow before the battle started frantically tried to drop one of his weapons and fire at me with the other. I sprung toward him, light on my feet because I had tossed my body shield, and angled a slashing kick downward against his leg. My left shin connected above his right kneecap where the muscles formed a teardrop shape. I heard a satisfying snap and tear as the leg separated from the tendons and muscles that held the joint together. The force of my kick also carried through to his left leg, and he flipped over my cutting shin kick and dropped head first onto the wet jungle floor.
The last two soldiers stood twenty yards from me with their trembling swords drawn. Without speaking, they each fell back a few steps toward the edge of the jungle and away from Paug and his friends. I guessed from their facial expressions and the glances they made over their shoulders that they considered fleeing into the jungle.
The man whose leg I had broken lay screaming at my feet, so I bent down and pulled the longer sword from his sheath. He reached his hands after mine to stop me, but I smacked his weak arms aside before I freed the blade. The weapon fit well in my hand, but was a bit light, like a toy. Suddenly a brief memory shattered my concentration.
I stood upon a hill overlooking a grand valley. Thousands of soldiers, clothed in animal-shaped armor, mounting red banners, stood at attention. I walked down the slope and into their ranks. Some of the men and women had their helmet visors lifted; their faces were sunken, angry, and eager for violence. I yelled a command and the masses screamed with feral intensity. The flags had giant skulls on them and they twisted and snapped in the sharp, cutting wind.
I shook my head when my memory was interrupted by another screech. I flicked my wrist downward and let the blade of the sword bite into his brain through his skull. Then I tensed my wrist a fraction of a second later to bring the blade back up and silence the man's screams. I stepped over his body and walked toward the last standing men.
The remaining soldiers looked like cornered rats, so I took my time and closed the distance between us with a slow stroll. My feet were still bare and crushed the rocks, moss, leaves, and damp earth beneath them, just as I was about to pulverize the life from the man before me. This soldier seemed to be the youngest of the bunch, and I inhaled the sickly scent of fear on him and heard his heart beat faster than Paug's. The man hadn’t expected this outcome, but we both knew at this moment that I was going to destroy him. Our eyes made contact, and I read his feint before he tried to make a small cut, pull back, and thrust into me.
My blade swung out to meet his like he expected. He pulled back at the last second and my sword went wide, leaving me open. He dove forward with a thrust aimed at my midsection, but the flat side of the blade glided against the palm of my hand and I pushed the sword wide. His eyes opened in shock as he realized I had read his feint. My relaxed blade swung back with precision and I took the top half of his head off with a horizontal cut. His eyes darted around the jungle frantically while his body toppled. His brain hadn’t realized it was missing its top half and may have tried to send interrupted commands to the rest of his body.
My left hand grabbed along the blade of the falling man’s sword, and I flipped the pommel into my palm as I turned around to face the last attacker. He dropped his sword and kneeled as I walked toward him. His hands went on top of his head and he started pleading with me. I didn't like the balance of the sword in my left hand so I left the blade buried in his chest.
I surveyed the clearing for any more opponents capable of attacking. I had not expected to live through such an assault, but these men proved so unskilled that even in my frail state they were easier to kill than the bugs in the tunnel. I shook my head in disappointment before sliding my sword through the neck of the one who had the dagger buried in his shoulder. Once his annoying cries of agony were silenced I made my way over to the last living soldier.
He had pushed his commander's body off and clawed at the ground to scoot away from me. My sword cut the strap attaching his helmet to his skull and I smacked it off with the flat side of the blade. Then I grabbed onto the thick, oily hair on his head and dragged him back across the wet mud to Paug's companions while he kicked and screamed. Perhaps they would want to question him. The small group hadn't moved from their position on the ground in front of the entrance to the tunnel. They surveyed the massacre with fear and shock.
"Do you want to talk to him before I kill him?" I asked Paug. I put the edge of my sword to the soldier's neck and he started to say frantic things in the unfamiliar language.
Greykin got off his knees with a grunt and began to ask the soldier questions. The man replied with hysterical passion, but the words were still intelligible. Nadea further interrogated him before Iarin had his turn. They each stared at me in fearful awe after they finished their questions. Jessmei's skin was white and I wondered if it was her normal hue or if she was about to faint. I guessed that the young woman had not seen many battles.
After a few minutes they had finished with their questioning.
"What did they ask him?" I yelled to Paug. He didn't respond immediately and I realized he had sprinted a few dozen yards away from the group to vomit. He also must have been unused to combat.
"More?" I asked Greykin, wondering if the older man would understand me. He shrugged his shoulders, so I drew the sword across my captive’s neck and held his head while he bled out. My companions gasped in horror and started to yell, but they didn't move toward me. I regarded them with a raised eyebrow. They couldn't possibly wish to keep this man alive. He had tried to kill them and would be of little use as a prisoner.
When he stopped struggling I let go of his hair and pulled the weapon belt off of his body. Then I walked over to the other corpses and began to organize their weapons into piles. The commander had the best sword, an ornate affair that appeared to be better crafted and a bit heavier than the others. I tied his belt across my robe before I grabbed the next best sword and attached it on the other hip. I gathered the five best balanced daggers and attached them to another belt I slung over my shoulder. The work occupied me for ten minutes or so, and put my mind at ease. Had I done this before? The familiarity of the task helped to relax my nerves.
My companions spoke a short distance away from me. They sounded angry as they argued amongst themselves. I couldn't understand them so I didn't bother devoting any energy to trying.
I contemplated taking a pair of boots from one of the corpses before I realized the robe I wore wasn't very good for traveling. The soft, thin shroud was wet with mud, water, and blood. These dead men weren't wearing any travel gear, so their camp had to be within walking distance. One of the corpses had a pair of leather boots that I guessed would fit, so I sat on a nearby rock and tied them around my bare feet.
While sitting, I noticed the trail through the jungle the soldiers had used to find us. I looked back at my companions and saw them involved in a passionate discussion. Nadea and Greykin were arguing. Paug had returned to them from his vomiting break, but his back was to me. They did not seem to be paying any attention to me or the trail, so I debated my next action. I needed Paug to learn this language, but I did not need to know any of the decisions the group would make in the next few minutes.
I set off down the trail at a comfortable jog. The soldiers' campsite would be close by, and once I reached it I could acquire pants, socks, and maybe a horse. I could hear and smell Paug, so I didn't have any doubt I would find him again after I obtained some gear. As I ran, the energy of the sun, earth, and water invigorated me.
I was not tired anymore.