CHAPTER FIFTEEN—CHOICES
Shiro slammed his scimitar down over the tendril and it snapped, releasing a spray of hot green-brown liquid that had a viscous sticky quality.
The Scorpion groaned, but he was otherwise in good shape, save for his tattered clothes. “Thank you,” he said, groaning loudly. “There are more. There are thousands of us.”
They paused for a moment, and in the night they could hear the moaning and groaning, and some men howling as they were dragged across the ground.
“We need to get you a weapon,” said Shiro. He sighed heavily. “I am sorry…”
“For”—he groaned as he touched the dirty and bloody wound on his arm—“for what? You have nothing to be sorry for, Master Shiro. That is your name, yes? You lead the army with the high vizier.”
“Yes,” Shiro said.
“You are the man with the jinni.” He said the words proudly, and Shiro was surprised.
He nodded, saying nothing more to that as he consciously felt for the lamp hanging at his side. The Scorpion saw it, but said no more.
Shiro said, “I am going back to the camp to warn the others of what we face. We must assemble a force to stop what is happening.”
“I will come with you.”
“Good.”
They moved, passing by men groaning from over the hills. How could so many men be dragged off? Did this creature truly have such a vast and diabolical reach over these lands?
They sprinted into a field of tall grass that waved in the cool air. From ahead, they could hear the sound of the beach.
“We are close,” the Scorpion said.
“Help!” someone cried.
They both turned and saw the soldier being dragged. He had a sword in his hand, but it had been wrapped about by the tendrils, immobilizing him completely. Because of this, he was relatively unscathed from being dragged across the ground.
Shiro ran to the tendril. As he raised his scimitar to strike, it suddenly uncoiled from the Scorpion and whipped back far out of Shiro’s reach.
“Oh gods!” the Scorpion cried. “I am free! Thank the gods—and thank you, sir!”
“Do not thank me,” Shiro said. He glanced away as the man exulted him for saving his life. No wonder Raz reacted the way he did…
A plume of blue light appeared behind Shiro and the two Scorpions gasped, pointing and babbling with astonishment. Jessamine ignored them as she tuned to Shiro. “We are moving too slow, my love.”
“Did you hear what she called him?”
“Shh!”
Jessamine smiled knowingly, but Shiro remained sober. She always did like to show off. She enjoyed when others gasped in surprise and awe. In a way, she carefully maintained her mystique for just such occurrences.
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“I know,” he said with a nod. “Saving the men… it is slow.”
She put her hand on her hip as she glanced at the two Scorpions. “They have a sword between them. Let these men handle the others while we move with haste. Do you boys think you can do that for us?”
Their eyes widened. “Uh…”
“Yes!” the one with the sword said. “Yes, we can do it.” The two Scorpions shared a glance and nodded. “We will do it.
“Very well,” Jessamine said. “You have no idea how much this helps us.”
Normally Shiro would have rolled his eyes, but he did not want to destroy the morale of the two men, for in Jessamine’s voice dripped sarcasm like honey down the body of a hive that had been cut in two.
Did these men not know, or was he simply more attuned to Jessamine than he knew?
“Come,” she said, turning to Shiro. She moved her head seductively indicating that they keep moving. “I am starting to feel impatient watching you save these Scorpions.”
Her last words spurred him on. “Yes, of course.” To the men, he told them to save as many of the Scorpions as they could and to form a group as large as they could.
Not long after as Shiro ran across the ground and through grass, down hills, he said, “I do not like leaving the men to their fate.”
They still cried out and moaned all about, like the aftermath of a battlefield where countless dead and dying and wounded men let out their sorrows for all to hear.
“You are more important than the few men you could say, Shiro.” Of course, she had chosen to remain as unsullied as possible, having whirled back out of the material plane. Now only her disembodied voice remained.
“That is wrong.”
“No it is not, my love. It is battle triage—something you must understand. If you make the choice to save every man you come across, then you fail to deliver the information you have to Raz and the high vizier Ali.”
“Do I hear contempt for my friends in your tone?”
She giggled. “Just a little, Shiro.” Jessamine said the words playfully, like silk ribbons fluttering in the air.
“Choices,” he muttered, continuing his run.
Suddenly he came up short when a form appeared in front of him. He blinked, realizing it was a Scorpion, all his limps covered, making him look much larger than he really was.
In his hand was a scimitar, and his eyes were wide, his mouth a rictus snarl. “Get away!” he screamed.
“What—why? I can save you.”
“Shiro, love…”
“I said get away! It’s not safe!”
He stepped forward.
“Listen to me, I said—“
The Scorpion lunged at him and Shiro barely stepped out of the way as the sword moved past the air where his face had been. He jumped forward to put distance between himself and the Scorpion that had lunged at him, when suddenly the Scorpion came at him again.
Shiro parried his sword strike, but took a fist in the ribs that sent him sprawling backward, though he did not fall, he cringed against the wound and coughed. That was a powerful strike—and he’s fast. Very fast.
The tendrils slithered across the ground, and Shiro saw it. The Scorpion saw it too, and he said, “Don’t do it!”
He rushed for the tendrils with his scimitar razed. He was going to sever the connection when the Scorpion was thrust forward into the way.
Shiro stayed his blade, and the warrior lashed out with his leg, kicking Shiro in the chest. This time he did go down, and he fell across the dirt and rolled to a stop as bright flashes snapped inside his vision and all the air came out of him.
Immediately he tried to rise as he sucked in air, but he staggered for a moment, unable to get up.
“RUN!” the Scorpion screamed.
He was thrust forward, his blade high with a killing blow ready to strike Shiro. It was going to land, when suddenly a bright light flashed over Shiro’s head and the tendril-enveloped warrior exploded into a ball of flames.
He screamed the tendrils writhed, wriggled and died there on the ground. Shiro screamed wordlessly. “What—what have you done? You killed him!”
“Yes, Shiro,” Jessamine said. “He was about to take your head off!”
He looked at her. “I cannot believe you did that.”
The samurai stood, but he was unsteady on his feet.
“Look at you, Shiro,” she said, striding to him. “You can barely stand. He was going to kill you at the hands… The monster was going to kill you.”
“And you killed him!”
“He was a shield.”
“You had no right.”
She sighed tiredly. “I had every right—and if I have to choose between saving you, my love, and killing a shield, I will kill the shield every time. If you do not like it, then too bad.”
Her words were all honey and undulating musical tones as if she cared not a whit for the Scorpion she had just killed.
Shiro cared.
Perhaps she did not.
But she was right. She had saved him—at the expense of this man’s life. Sighing heavily, he said, “Let’s just go.”
Jessamine had the good sense not to say anything more after that.