Chapter Eight

                The abrupt sensation of locking gazes with someone instead of staring into the darkness shocked Johnsa out of her glide. Once more, her feet snagged a root and she went down with a muffled yelp. Nar reached out, trying to catch her, but only managed to get dragged down himself. The line halted as they waited for the two to stand back up. Pral gave Johnsa a withering look for the hold up, and immediately began moving again when he saw her stand.

                “There’s someone out there,” Johnsa said to Pral’s retreating back.

                “Ignore it. Keep moving.” Pral’s command was dismissive, but his voice was cold. Johnsa and the rest of the group were surprised by this.

                “Ignore it?” Bertran asked slowly.

                “But what if it’s someone following us…” Glyc began.

                “Or someone who needs our help?” Wenley finished.

                “Ignore it!” This time, Pral’s voice was harsh, silencing the questions on everyone’s lips.

                At the back of the line, Hosus perked up. This was unlike him. Pral never lost his temper, never lost his composure. What was making him so anxious? She moved up past her companions, who had been stunned into immobility. Standing next to the twins, she quietly asked them to take up the rear and cover their tracks. Her quiet request and light touch on Glyc’s shoulder spurred them from their daze, and they nodded, stepping back and allowing the rest of the group to pass. Hosus moved up behind Pral, following in his footsteps for a moment. She could see tension in his every move, easily visible in his neck and shoulders.

                What are you hiding from us now? she thought. She moved to walk beside him, matching his fluid gliding steps. He noted her presence with a quick downward glance but said nothing. From this perspective, Hosus could see the strain even more clearly. Pral’s jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared, and his hand was closing reflexively on the hilt of his sword. Something had him frightened.

                Hosus even felt a difference in how he carried himself. Gone was the predatory nonchalance. Gone was the hawk like gaze. In its place was the cringing impression of a cornered animal or a frightened mother defending her young. Hosus felt the slightest tingle of desperation, held tight in check, radiating off of the larger man. Glancing out in the woods, she felt that desperation spike as Pral’s full attention snapped to her.

                “I said ignore it,” Pral whispered, the desperation combining with his anger and menace.

                Hosus looked up and saw true rage in his emerald eyes. Nodding, she fell back into line, giving Pral his usual space when leading the group. She remained behind him, studying the forest around them as much as his back. What is out there he doesn’t want us seeing?

                Pral struck a fast pace after that, blazing a trail through the deepening dark of the afternoon, his footing as sure as ever despite the little light that made it through the canopy. Hosus took mental note that he led them much faster than such travel would safely recommend for the first hour after Johnsa’s sighting. She also watched as the tension seemed to slowly drain from his shoulders and neck the further away they got from that part of the forest, until he seemed as loose and predatory as his usual self.

                As they traveled, Hosus pondered Pral’s unusual behavior. He knew the forest too well to be following a general path, and he very clearly knew about whatever Johnsa had seen. He would not have told them to ignore it otherwise, considering his earlier precautions against being followed. So what was out there and how was Pral connected to it? It was idle speculation, but one Hosus toyed with as Pral hustled them through the forest.

                The day wore on and the forest got darker. Hosus figured it was approaching evening, but the dense forest prevented the little remaining light from filtering through to the ground. What little light did manage to break through the heavy canopy created long flitting shadows that disguised the thick roots. Brief moments of sunlight dazzled various members of the group, leaving them momentarily blinded, rubbing their eyes and groping their way forward until their night vision returned. Pral was forced to wait several times while the twins rough housed, pushing each other into random patches of light and laughing as the other stumbled blindly on, though he waited in silence.

                Pral pushed on into the deepening gloom after even those few patches of illumination were blocked, and for the next half mile everyone had difficulty keeping up. Even after Pral slowed down, the twins were complaining about multiple stubbed toes and bruised shins.

                “Do we have to continue on like this?” Wenley whined piteously.

                “Yes, why can’t we make camp or light a torch or something?” Glyc followed up.

                “No torches. We’re almost there. We’ll make camp soon.”

                “Almost where?” Glyc moaned. “I can’t even see where here is. How are we supposed to see where we are when we get there if it’s impossible to see where we are here?”

                “Wait…” Bertran started, thinking through Glyc’s sentence. After a few moments of pondering, he shook his head, bewildered. “Never mind. I don’t even want to try figuring that one out.”

                Nar chuckled at his brother. “As confusing as it was, I have to agree with the twins. I can’t see my hand in front of my face, Pral. How far away is the camp, and how many more twisted ankles must we suffer to get there?”

                Hosus was glad it was nearly pitch black among the crowded trees as she sensed Pral’s patience wearing thin with the irritations.

                “I’m not having that much trouble,” Johnsa mumbled.

                Despite having said it quietly, everyone heard her. Now Johnsa was suddenly glad it was pitch black.

                “Hey, I can see your eyes, Johnsa!” Wenley chimed.

                “You can?”

                “Yup yup,” Glyc agreed.

                Hosus did notice a soft, almost imperceptible red glow coming from Johnsa’s position, though Johnsa had her back turned toward her. She heard Phanza carefully make his way over to the Ramadan.

                “Allow me to see, if I may,” he said.

                The red glow shifted quickly up and down, following Johnsa’s nod. Hosus could barely make up Phanza’s curious features in the soft light as he examined her briefly.

                “How do you feel? Headache? Thirsty?”

                “Not particularly.”

                “And how does everything look? Your eyes are glowing right now, by the way.”

                “Really?” Johnsa didn’t seem quite as surprised as such a revelation might warrant, but she had experienced more than her share lately and was quickly becoming immune to them. “My vision is normal. At least, fairly normal. Everything is still dark, but I can make out the shape of the roots and trees and everyone. You’re all sort of outlined in silver. I didn’t really notice that before…”

                The twins seemed quite excited by Johnsa’s newest ability, and despite only being two people, managed to crowd around her and pepper her with questions like children around a favorite uncle who had been traveling.

                “How many fingers am I holding up?”

                “What does it make my sword look like?”

                “Can you see me now?” This question amused everyone as Wenley hid behind Glyc.

                “Three. Your sword looks like a sword. And yes, I can see you. I’m taller than both of you, remember?”

                Hosus even heard Pral chuckle at this last comment, though he tried to cover it by clearing his throat.

                “Everyone finished marveling? Can we proceed?” he asked in his usual gruff tone. “Even slow as we are, we should arrive by true nightfall.”

                “And now we can use Johnsa as our torch!” the twins said with matching grins.

                Phanza tsked them. “You two could have the decency to ask her first.”

                “If it means we can stop for the night, I’ll be happy to act as a light source,” Johnsa said quickly.

                “Excellent,” Pral said from the front, turning and heading off again. He left the others to figure out how to use Johnsa to light their way.

                Hosus slowly followed after him, but her attention was focused on the now hurried discussion trying to figure out where to position Johnsa so everyone might have a tiny bit of light to see by. Now that she was aware of it, Hosus felt her eyes using even the very small amount of light from Johnsa’s eyes to pick out the path.

                “Johnsa, you take the lead and just tell people how to move. Your eyes don’t give off enough light to actually be used by everyone,” Hosus offered before hurrying to catch up to Pral.

                “Wait for us!” Nar called as he filed in behind Johnsa.

                Hosus listened as they shuffled after her, Johnsa calling back quiet commands. She glanced back once to see the speed of their progress and very clearly made out Johnsa’s eyes. In the dark, they glowed like coals in a forge.

                “Okay, walk straight. No roots in the way,” Johnsa said. She kept her eyes on the ground, looking up every so often to keep an eye on Hosus and Pral, both of whom were managing to make very good speed over the rough terrain without help.

                Johnsa tried imitating Pral’s gait again but found it difficult to maintain while concentrating on the ground and her followers.

                “Big root in two paces. Make sure to step high. Use your toe to find the top if you’re not sure.”

                Johnsa’s commands improved the pace of the rest of the group considerably, and they were able to keep up to Pral’s reduced pace. After another two miles of quiet commands and considerably fewer stubbed toes, Johnsa caught up to Pral and Hosus.

                “This is where we’ll be camping tonight,” Pral informed the group.

                “I still can’t see where here is,” Glyc said, voicing his earlier complaint.

                “Open your eyes then,” Pral said as he pushed back a heavy branch in front of him.

                Glyc’s eyes opened wide indeed as he looked through the opening. “Woah.”

                Johnsa, who had turned to speak with Phanza concerning her glowing eyes, looked back at what had rendered even Glyc ineloquent. Through the branches lay a large clearing with what appeared to be a large stone table dominating the center of it. The table was twenty feet across, made of a glistening black material that looked like onyx but soaked up the starlight from the clear sky overhead and shone brightly. Along its rim, inch high figures stood out against the black surface, the remnants of an ancient alphabet describing only the dead knew what. Around the table in regular intervals sat twelve stone benches, hewn of the same material, yet unlike the table, the benches absorbed the starlight and became singular patches of perfect darkness around the shining table.

                “What is this place?” Johnsa asked. The table and benches were breathtaking. The combination of the light and shadow demanded her attention with the same level of intensity as when she sensed magic, but she did not feel the same hunger, only awe. These were works of art from a forgotten world.

                “It is the stone table clearing. It has been here for more than thousand years, but only a few know of this clearing. Fewer still can translate the script along the edge of the table, and none during my lifetime,” Pral explained. “It is a safe place to camp for the night, and we will be able to wake with the light.”

                One by one, the members of the group filed through gap Pral held open and stood before the table. The twins were speechless. Nar and Bertran stood transfixed, their eyes brightened by the light shining from the table. Phanza slowly circled the table, his eyes drawn to the script, his right hand held to his face, his face pinched in thought as he contemplated the writing.

                Johnsa followed him. Before her eyes, the letters rearranged themselves into a language she could read and understand. She read softly to herself as she worked her way around the table, and when she finished, she stood silently near the opening.

                “You understand the writing, Johnsa?”

                Pral’s quiet voice did not surprise Johnsa tonight, and she nodded once. She gave him a questioning look as if to ask how he knew. Hosus stood next to him and gave her a measuring look.

                “Your lips were moving. I didn’t peg you for one who thinks out loud.”

                “This is a holy place, Pral. The inscription describes the world and beyond. The table represents our sun, and the benches represent…well, I think they represent other worlds beyond ours. There are twelve benches, and before each bench there is a different name. Between each name, the inscription describes meetings to decide ends of wars, mass migrations, and stopping the spread of plagues. It doesn’t say who met here though, only that twelve did and the decisions made, nominally under the auspices of each named world. I think they considered each world a god.”

                “Makes sense,” Hosus murmured. “We have twelve major deities, after all. Why do you say they refer to worlds rather than the gods then?”

                Johnsa shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. That’s just how it reads to me here.” She pointed to a short section of script to their right. “Here it says, ‘Under the name of these twelve worlds, we here gathered resolve to right the wrongs of our own world. Under the name of these twelve worlds, we here gathered resolve to bring justice to our own world. Under the name of these twelve worlds, we here gathered resolve to ensure peace in our own world. Under the name of these twelve worlds, we do so swear.’”

                “Could you have learned that word wrong? Maybe it was mistranslated as world instead of god at some point,” Hosus ventured.

                Pral shook his head before Johnsa had the chance. “If my instincts are correct, Hosus, Johnsa has never learned this language, nor even seen it before.” He looked to Johnsa for confirmation, which she gave with a curt nod. “It’s part of her new abilities. She is able to intuitively understand things. Fighting styles and ancient, dead languages for example.”

                “Useful,” Hosus remarked, withdrawing her earlier comment.

                “Worlds instead of gods. Interesting.” Pral murmured to himself.

                “Please Pral. Make sure everyone knows this place is holy. Even if it’s only as a forgotten chronicle of a past time, I get the feeling this place is special in some way I can’t even begin to describe.”

                Pral nodded, and motioned everyone over to him, though he had to snap his fingers twice before the twins noticed. When he had everyone’s attention, Pral began. “This is an ancient place, full of memory. We camp here tonight out of necessity; otherwise I would not risk this sacred place. Please treat this place as hallowed ground.”

                Nods came all around. “May I inspect the table? I’d like to study the script.”

                Pral glanced quickly at Johnsa but acquiesced. “Just be careful. And take Johnsa. She could be useful.”

                “Very well.”

                As Johnsa moved off with Phanza, she caught a snatch of conversation between Pral and Hosus, who was asking why Johnsa should help him since she already knew what it said. Johnsa hesitated, waiting for Pral’s response, glancing back quickly but saw Pral watching her. Johnsa met his gaze, showing him clearly she was waiting for his response, but her wait was interrupted when Phanza called to her from the far side of the table. She almost expected Pral to give her a nod of dismissal but he only watched as she finally gave up and moved off to Phanza.

                Hosus noticed Pral’s gaze and wisely held off her commentary until Johnsa was out of earshot. She patiently waited for the end of the staring match, and when Johnsa finally turned away, Hosus let out a soft sigh. The tension between those two was going to be unhealthy for one of them.

                “Is sending Johnsa with Phanza going to help him study the table… or study her?” she asked in a much quieter voice.

                “Both, hopefully. I’ve always been curious about this table. Now we have a chance to learn about something conceivably from another age.”

                Hosus eyed him skeptically.

                “We also need to know as much about Johnsa and her abilities as we can. They could be immensely helpful or incredibly dangerous, as you’ve seen. If Johnsa helps him at all with the translation, maybe Phanza will be able to start putting some puzzle pieces together.”

                Johnsa kept an eye on the leaders of the group as they spoke between themselves. Even though she couldn’t hear them, she was an adept lip reader and would have been able to follow the conversation had Phanza not kept up a running dialogue concerning the table and the script that distracted her. He was particularly excited about one word that he vaguely recognized from some ancient tome in some library. Johnsa rolled her eyes as she stopped trying to read lips.

                “It means ‘Zeruta,’” she said in exasperation.

                “As in the god of the harvest? How do you know?”

                “Same name, but it’s not referring to the god.” She deliberately didn’t answer Phanza’s second question, but he seemed distracted by the possibility that her translation was correct.

                “What does it refer to then?”

                Johnsa shrugged. “Do you not know what any of the rest means? Can’t you decipher it at all?”

                Phanza shook his head. “I’ve only seen this alphabet once, let alone anything written in it. I have no idea what any of it means. Do you?” The piercing look he gave her made Johnsa very uncomfortable.

                Johnsa considered lying but realized it didn’t make a difference. She had already translated it all for Pral and Hosus. If she didn’t tell Phanza, they would, so she nodded.

                “It’s a chronicle. The text describes a series of meetings between twelve unnamed leaders,” here Johnsa motioned to the benches, “who met to discuss major decisions. The big ones I see are ending a major war, preventing a deadly plague, and organizing some mass migration. I already told Pral and Hosus this, but what Pral found interesting were the names in front of the benches. In front of each bench is a different name that you would find corresponds to each of the twelve major deities.”

                “Really? But they span several different religions. You’re absolutely sure?”

                Johnsa started to nod, but shrugged instead. “Not absolutely sure. It’s just how I understand it. And I don’t know the language either, so I’m not sure how I know it.”

                “Perhaps it comes from your ability. Hmmm…” Phanza muttered to himself, his lips pursed in thought. Johnsa wondered if he was contemplating her power or the translation.

                “Do you happen to know what the names are referring to, if not the gods?”

                “As I understand it,” Johnsa began hesitantly, “the names are referring to other worlds. Part of the text at the beginning, near the vows, describes this setup as a scale model of what’s beyond our world. I don’t understand it very well.”

                “A scale model of…” Phanza whispered. “Do you know what this means? If the translation is correct, and the model is correct, it could be a breakthrough in astronomical studies. Some scholars have predicted other worlds beyond ours. This would corroborate their theories.” This led to a series of rattled explanations or requested translations as he examined the table with glee.

                Phanza’s excitement was contagious, and Johnsa found herself smiling and nodding along, though she had a difficult time following much of what he described. She had to stop him and ask for an explanation when he got into concepts of orbits and revolving stars, and Phanza delightfully went into great detail about the movement of stars in the night sky. The two stayed up whispering by the light of the star table long after the others turned into their bedrolls.

                Dawn came early, but Johnsa was only glad to be able to see unfiltered sunlight again, if only for a short time. She had listened to Phanza’s explanations regarding the worlds beyond the world until the moon was high in the sky before an involuntary yawn stopped him mid-explanation and they had decided to sleep. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought about the mage’s child-like enthusiasm for the subject, one he claimed had been a passion of his for many years.

                Phanza had fallen asleep next to her, but his eyes opened as she sat up.

                “Good morning,” he said with a smile, his eyes blinking slowly as he woke himself up.

                “Good morning to you too, sleepabed.”

                “Sleepabed? It’s barely dawn.”

                “Yes, and you’re the last one up.”

                “Really?” He sat up quickly, looking around for Nar, who surprisingly was already awake and stowing his bedroll. “Huh.” Phanza said, looking very confused.

                “Stay up late, that’s what happens.”

                Phanza eyed her. “I notice you haven’t moved from your blanket yet.”

                Johnsa couldn’t help but laugh as she threw back her covers and stretched. “Caught red handed it seems.”

                With a smile and a snort, Phanza stood. Offering Johnsa his hand, he said, “Come. Otherwise we’ll miss the group meeting.”

                She accepted his hand and pulled herself up. “I wonder when we’ll get out of this blasted forest.”

                Together they began to walk around the table before it caught their attention again. In the early morning light, the table looked entirely different. Just like the starlight, it absorbed the soft light and gave it back off, transforming the dark material into a luminescent pearl. In the starlight it had looked beautiful but hard. Now the table looked soft and comforting. It was an amazing transformation, and Johnsa couldn’t help but touch the table, just to make sure it was really there. Her finger met solid resistance and warmth. Johnsa felt her eyes slide closed, and the warmth radiating from the table moved through her, crawling through all of the dark and cold places of her mind, finding each fear and bringing it into the soft morning light. A moment later she opened her eyes again, feeling calm for the first time in days. Her self-doubt was, for the moment, removed, and she felt like herself again.

                “I can see why they would meet here,” she said quietly to herself.

                “Pardon?”

                Johnsa looked to Phanza. “Nothing. Let’s see what today’s travels will show us.”

Chapter Seven

Hosus moved away from the camp, working through the decomposing bodies and making sure none of their tracks were visible. With all of the scavengers and remains from the battle, it was unlikely anyone would be able to pick their trail out specifically. Still, Pral seemed to think discretion was necessary and Hosus was very careful in obscuring any trace of their passing.

She worked her way quickly through the glade and the thin, surrounding forest. When she reached the plains, she inhaled deeply. A soft breeze brought fresh air to her nostrils, free of the stench of the death and decay behind her. She drank in the pristine air and watched as the wind blew across the golden fescue of the plains.

The sun was not yet high but gave the rippling grass a beautiful glow. It was as if the oceans had become solid enough to tread upon, and as Hosus slowly made her way through the golden waves, she felt almost ethereal. The breeze, even the land itself, moved around her as if she wasn’t there at all.

Hosus paused, letting her body go loose, head tilted slightly upward to catch the sun, and allowed herself to slip into the illusion of not existing. In her stillness, she saw the life of the plainlands. A hawk wheeled far and above in search of a meal. A fox poked its head up over a rise to the south, seemed to look through Hosus, before giving a bark and disappearing again.

Taking another deep breath, Hosus felt a contented smile spread across her face. It was a perfect morning and she felt the stress from her near-miss earlier spilling out of her. This was the only worthwhile magic, Hosus thought. The magic of a moment, to appreciate the simple beauties of the world. She stood a minute longer, feeling the exhaustion of their journey, even the throbbing bump on her head, fade into the land around her.

She head the hawk scream and watched as it folded its wings as it plummeted toward the earth. A small plume of dust erupted into the air and Hosus could hear, even over that great distance, the small squeak of the hapless rodent that had become the hawk’s breakfast. Through that dust, Hosus could make out the shimmering silhouette of a man striding quickly in her direction. She squinted through the haze, trying to pick up any distinguishing features about the approaching individual, but he was still too far off.

Instinct and Pral’s precaution warned her to be careful, and she crouched low in the tall grass. Hosus began moving back to the relative concealment of the tree line, careful not to leave a trail after she’d just finished concealing it. Glancing out over the plains, Hosus could see the person disappear behind a hill. She put on a small burst of speed that put her among the thing tree trunks.

Once a few steps inside the trees, Hosus turned back to look once more for the figure. He topped a rise and paused, turned toward the copse Hosus was concealed in. Even from that distance, she felt like he could see her, and was in fact looking right at her. The feeling left her discomfited, and once more Hosus turned back to rendezvous with the others. She would need to tell Pral to be on the lookout, just in case they were being followed. Across the plain, the figure smiled.

Hosus reached the clearing and was nearly overwhelmed by the stench of decay. Forcing down bile and missing the clean air outside on the plain, she saw Phanza kneeling next to Johnsa, talking to himself. Bertran and Nar had returned with some lengths of a particularly itchy-looking vine. The twins had all of the gear stowed and ready to go. Hosus did not immediately see Pral, but she heard grunting from behind some trees she assumed was him.

Nodding to Phanza, Hosus followed the grunts and found Pral chest deep in a freshly-dug hole. She cocked and eyebrow at him. Pral inclined his head toward the giant, bloated corpse of the Slandra that had nearly killer her the night before.

Hosus nodded. “Covered the trail. Saw a man out on the plain headed in this direction.”

At this, Pral’s head snapped up. “Could you see any details? How far was he? Did he see you?”

Hosus shook her head at his first question. “I would estimate he was the better part of a day’s travel away. And I believe he saw me. At least I got the feeling he did.” Pral’s eyes went hard at this news and he climbed out of the hole. The hard dirt clung to his sweaty body, blending in to his dark skin as he unceremoniously kicked the Slandra body into the hole. Menace oozed off him, and Hosus was suddenly suspicious.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

Pral glanced at her, his green eyes burning. “Nothing. I know nothing more than you do, Hosus.” His green eyes bored into hers.

Hosus held the gaze another moment before shrugging. She didn’t believe him but she could deal with the issue later. “Time to move out?” she asked.

Pral nodded. “Ask Phanza to come over here. We don’t have time to fill this in by hand.”

Hosus paused. “Is that wise? We don’t know enough about Johnsa yet to really be using magic around her, do we?”

“We’ll have to risk it.” He turned away and donned his shirt. Hosus waited another moment, watching him, before turning back to the clearing.

Stepping out from the trees, Hosus saw Phanza handing a now conscious Johnsa some water. Hosus greeted them both as she approached.

“Phanza. Johnsa, good to see you conscious again. How’s your head feel?”

Johnsa looked confused. “Fine. Why do you ask?”

Phanza quickly glanced at Hosus. “You complained of a headache earlier.”

“I did? I don’t even remember waking up earlier,” Johnsa responded, concern creeping into her voice.

“You were tired. Nothing to fear,” Hosus reassured her. “Do you mind if I steal Phanza for a few moments?”

Johnsa nodded. Phanza stood and walked with Hosus a few steps away. “Pral needs you behind those trees. He wants you to fill and cover a hole…by magic.”

Phanza raised his eyebrows. “Is that really wise?”

Hosus shrugged. “I said the same thing. Pral said we have to risk it. We’re moving out as soon as you’re done.”

With a sigh, Phanza nodded before heading off into the trees, following Hosus’ pointed direction. Hosus turned back to Johnsa.

“We’re getting ready to leave. Feeling up to it?”

Johnsa stood slowly. Hosus waited, watching for any sign of the pain that had wracked the other woman earlier but saw nothing. Johnsa looked to be feeling just fine.

“Feeling all right?” Hosus asked again.

“Yes. Great, actually,” Johnsa responded, somewhat surprised. “After that battle I should be sore all over. I can’t even find a scratch.”

Hosus didn’t react to this news, but she stowed it away. She knew she had to pass it on to Pral and Phanza. She put on a smile.

“Lucky you. Maybe you want to take my pack today then,” Hosus finished with a laugh.

Johnsa returned the smile. “I could do that. I don’t have anything of my own to carry anymore.” Her smile faded as the impact of what she had said sunk in.

Hosus could only watch on sadly as Johnsa looked forlornly around the glade, eyes pausing on each human body littered among the scaly Slandra ones. Tears welled up in the other woman’s eyes that she hastily brushed away. The tears were replaced by a hardness that Hosus recognized. It was the look of a survivor, the look of one who should be dead by the will of whatever god took pity was still alive to avenge those who were not.

Johnsa began moving among the bodies, kneeling next to some, touching others despite wounds, bloating, and decay. Hosus remained where she was, understanding the need for a final farewell to the dead. She nearly went to Johnsa when the Ramadan fell to her knees beside one body and started shuddering, but a quick glance at the insignia on his shoulder told Hosus the man was Johnsa’s second-in-command.

Johnsa’s shuddering stopped after a few moments and she stood again. She started to turn back but something caught her eye, as she bent and retrieved something from the ground, brushing it off on her pant leg. When she finally turned back toward Hosus, she looked relieved and some of the hardness hard left her eyes.

“Find something?” Hosus asked. Johnsa was walking back but her attention was fully fixed on the object in her hands.

“Hmm?” Johnsa looked up, distracted.

Hosus pointed at the object in her hand.

“Oh. This? Nothing. Just something that could be useful.” Before Hosus could ask what it was, Johnsa had tucked it into her boot.

Hosus shrugged and beckoned to follow her over the packs.

“Pral and Phanza should be finished soon. Then we’ll be off.”

“Off where?”

“North. We are headed out of Teradan lands.”

“By the gods, why? That far north it’s only wilderness and past that the Dead Lands.
There are barely even any cities in the north.”

Hosus raised her eyebrows. “You know much about that region it seems. Born there?”

Johnsa shook her head. “My father was a…a merchant. He had contacts everywhere and I went everywhere he did. We spent some time in the north, even ventured a ways into the Dead Lands because my father was curious. By the gods it was cold, though.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Why are you going north? I’m sure Terada could use you in beating back the Slandra. You would all be most welcome.”

Hosus shrugged. “We have business that cannot wait, unfortunately.”

***

Johnsa was curious and intrigued by this group. What kind of business would these people have in the North? Even the army her father fought in only traveled that far north to fight off the packs of ice wolves that had ravaged local herds.

She thought about the lie she had told Hosus concerning her father. He had been a battle mage in a mercenary army she had affectionately referred to as the Band. It was with the army that she had traveled so extensively and where she had learned how to fight and survive. None of which was information she shared with most people, especially strangers such as these who might be mercenaries themselves. Johnsa did not want to be co-opted into a system that traded blood for money. She’d left the Band for just that reason.

Hosus was giving her an odd look, but before Johnsa could comment on it she felt a pull. Something very near was having an overwhelming pull on her, both mind and body. She turned and through the trees, Johnsa could see a beautiful glow arising from the ground like a faint mist. She felt herself moving toward it, felt herself craving that mist more than anything else in her life. A small part of her mind focused on this craving, focused on the wrongness of it. It served as an anchor for her consciousness, and Johnsa fought a losing battle to regain control of her own body.

Suddenly the craving ended and Johnsa could only make out a muted glow where the mist had been. The release on her body left her mind reeling, and she had to clutch her head against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Johnsa? Johnsa! Are you okay?”

The dizziness passed quickly and Johnsa was able to turn toward Hosus, who was a few feet away looking very concerned.

“I’m fine. Just dizzy for a moment. I must be thirsty I guess.”

Hosus did not look entirely convinced, but her attention shifted at the approach of Pral and Phanza, emerging from the trees very near to where Johnsa had seen the mist.

“We heard your shout. What’s going on?” Phanza asked, moving towards Johnsa. Johnsa caught Hosus shake her head slightly, and Pral changed direction to stand next to Hosus.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just dizzy,” Johnsa responded.

“All right now?” Pral asked. Johnsa nodded. “Good. We’re ready to go here. Everyone grab their packs.”

Johnsa watched as the group quickly hefted the packs and waited for Pral to take lead. Now was the time, she decided.

“Pral,” Johnsa asked quietly, “I was hoping I could borrow some supplies and a pack. I need to return to Terada and inform my superiors of what has happened here.”

Pral shook his head. “We can’t afford to be generous, I regret. Our supplies are limited already. You will have to travel with us until we find a settlement or town where you can purchase your own equipment.”

Johnsa muttered a curse. She needed to return to Terada and inform the Council of Seven that the Slandra menace was very different from what they had anticipated. But to do that, she needed supplies and those in her former camp were beyond rescue at this point. As grateful as she was to these people for all of their help, Johnsa had no real reason to trust them and absolutely no reason to join them. I have duties to fulfill, she thought vehemently. Finally, she sighed and nodded her head in acquiescence.

“I thank you for all of your help. With luck, I will to be able to repay you for the supplies I’ll need.” Pral had already turned, assured of her decision even before she spoke, and was leading the group away. Johnsa glared at his back, frustrated that her decision was so transparent. She was tempted to go off on her own anyway, but the plains she would travel through were hardly bountiful.

Hosus was watching her and gave Johnsa an understanding look accompanied by a shrug as if to say, “what can you do?” Johnsa sighed again and rubbed her eyes. She had only know these people for a day and already they were giving her a headache. Without a pack of her own, Johnsa filed in with the others.

Pral took point, leading the group back through the trees and toward the real forest. The twins fell in behind him, then Phanza, and Johnsa found herself in tucked into the middle of the group. Nar and Bertran followed her and Hosus brought up the rear, a running diatribe about covering Bertran’s tracks streaming forward to the rest of the group. The few times Johnsa glanced back, Bertran was smiling but the big man was walking gingerly. Johnsa couldn’t stop herself from grinning when she noticed his steps were only leaving deeper imprints, despite his best efforts.

They moved quickly, leaving the copse behind and traveling over the plains back into the forest. Once they reached the actual forest, their pace slowed. It was an old forest, and the giant trees had spread their roots thick and far, making for hazardous walking conditions.

The group walked for several hours, picking their way carefully past the trees. Johnsa was completely lost, only able to catch glimpses of sunlight through the thick canopy. Pral, however, chose his path confidently, never slowing except to allow the line to catch up to him.

Johnsa watched him carefully, studying how he moved. He almost seemed to glide over the rough terrain, his feet almost but never quite touching the ground. His right knees is weaker than his left, she thought to herself. She stumbled over a thick root as the thought disoriented her. How did she know that? She rubbed her eyes as a sudden pain blossomed behind them and she had to pause.

She felt Nar and Bertran slide past her, though she did not see the uneasy looks on their faces. A light touch on her shoulder made her turn. Hosus was looking at her with that same guarded look as earlier.

“Headache,” Johnsa muttered, forcing herself to continue walking. “Probably just thirsty still.”

Hosus unhooked her water skin from her pack and handed it over. Johnsa accepted it, drinking deeply and swirling some in her mouth, holding the warm water on her tongue for a moment. Surprisingly, her headache eased somewhat.

“Better now, thanks,” Johnsa said, handing the water skin back to Hosus.

Turning once more to the path, Johnsa Hurried to retake her position in the line. She edged past Bertran and Nar with a smile and filed back in behind Phanza. Deciding not to study Pral more, Johnsa turned her attention to the forest around her.

The thick canopy prevented much from growing on the forest floor, but through the trees Johnsa could see small clearings of sunlight, probably where storms had felled some of the giant trees. Everywhere else, gigantic mushrooms sprouted, out of the ground, off of the trees, sometimes even off of other mushrooms. To Johnsa they appeared to be miniature staircases climbing the towering trunks. Some of those on the ground even had shadows or discolorations that looked like tiny doorways. The thought amused her until her attention was drawn away by a movement behind a fallen tree overgrown completely with the odd house-like mushrooms.

Johnsa peered into the deep shadows, searching for the source of the motion while her body unconsciously mimicked Pral’s gliding method of avoiding the entangling roots. Her crimson eyes probed the gathered darkness, attempting to pierce the obscurity, when suddenly golden eyes met her gaze.

Chapter Six

"Calm down Johnsa!" Phanza said with authority.

"Why should I? What have you done to me?!" Johnsa said harshly.

"We have done nothing. Like Hosus said before, she found you unconscious among the dead. Whatever happened to you happened before we showed up. In fact, if no one has seen you like this before, it is safe to assume the change occurred during your battle."

Phanza felt pity for this woman. She had been changed, possibly forever, into something that even he could not understand. There was just no simple way to experience that. And although her expression did not look comforted by his explanation, the burning intensity of her crimson eyes had diminished.

"Please, let us help you. We can help you discover what has changed and if necessary, help you learn how to control it,” he continued.

Phanza stoically ignored Pral's murderous glance at his offer to help. A magic-stealing being was not something to be left alone and unguarded. With those eyes, she would not be able to hide from whatever might understand her newfound ability. Fortunately, Johnsa was so focused on Phanza's words she missed Pral's look.

"Control it?" Her harsh voice was softened by her hesitation.

"Excuse me?" Phanza was momentarily taken aback. "Control it?"

"You said control it didn't you? What do I have to control?"

Damn, I said too much! Phanza watched as fear crept into her features. How will she react to learning she absorbs magical energies? Phanza sighed. What to do? What should I do?

"Show her Phanza. She can handle it."

Phanza glanced in Hosus' direction. Did she know about Johnsa’s ability? But her words held such confidence in their new charge that Phanza nodded immediately. He didn't understand how she knew, but that was something he could ask about later. Phanza took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing himself for a little demonstration.

Raising his hands in a cup before him, he uttered, "Vrecta" three times in a swaying cadence. From his palms rose a small wisp, an ever-changing cloud shimmering with bright lights. The wisp started drifting toward Johnsa, who shied back but did not turn away. She seemed unaware of the savagely hungry look on her face as she watched every minute change in the magical cloud approaching her.

The rest of the group watched on curiously, some entranced by the wisp and others carefully watching Johnsa. When the wisp was an arm's length from Johnsa, it bumped against an invisible wall and stopped. Then, it vanished. A red flare erupted from Johnsa’s eyes, forcing everyone but Phanza and Hosus to shield their eyes. Those two watched intently as Johnsa's back arched with a sharp inhalation of breath, watched as an ecstatic smile spread across her face.

The flare up only lasted a moment, and ended almost as quickly as it happened. The group watched as Phanza nodded to himself and bent to whisper with Hosus. Nar glanced at Glyc and Wenley, who shrugged in unison but looked to Phanza with concerned faces. Bertran fidgeted, trying to emulate Pral, who merely looked on dispassionately.

Johnsa had her eyes closed, red pulses illuminating her eyelids, completely oblivious to the rest of the group. It took several vocal prods from Phanza and a sharp poke from Hosus before she focused on reality again.

She looked confused and somewhat disappointed when she opened her eyes again. Her eyes, still shining brilliantly, bathed the onlookers' faces in a bloody light. With everyone looking at her, Johnsa looked down sheepishly.

"Johnsa..."

She slowly looked up to the young wizard.

"Hmm?"

"Through some unknown cause, you are now immune to magic."

There was a long delay before Johnsa reacted. "Wait...what?"

If the entire group hadn't been stunned into silence or taciturn by nature, one of the twins would have invariably made a rude comment about Johnsa's eloquence.

"I correct myself. What I should have said is that you absorb magic. I'm not sure how or why, but any magical energies directed at you disappeared. They just vanish into you. That is what happened with the wisp."

"Hold on, did something like that happen last night when you examined her? Is her ability to…to draw in energy what made you faint?" Nar asked quickly, a puzzled and worried look creating odd wrinkles on his brow.

Phanza nodded. "When my magic probed through her, it was absorbed almost immediately. What's more, because of my physical contact with her, Johnsa unknowingly absorbed a large portion of my innate energy as well."

"Something similar happened to me when I found her," Hosus added. "When that big Slandra came up on us, I tried using a blinding spell. It came off my blades, but it disappeared. I put it together after Phanza fainted last night."

***

Throughout this conversation, Johnsa sat with her legs tucked under her, a dumb expression covering her features. While everyone else was focused on Phanza's explanation, Pral had quietly made his way next to Johnsa.

"You are an odd one."

His quiet words jerked Johnsa out of her daze.

"Excuse me?"

"You were just informed that something fundamental in you has changed. And although you've been hiding behind that stupid look, you've been assessing all of us, our combat potential."

"What are you talking about?" Johnsa asked, turning to face her examiner.

"Tell me, Johnsa. What were you before you joined us?"

"I am...well, I guess I was a Ramadan in the Human Protection Forces."

"A Ramadan eh?" Slightly raised eyebrows were his only betrayal of surprise. "That's impressive. Tell me, were you the one who rescued those men from the ambush a few days ago?"

"Yes, but how did you know we were attacked?" Could she dare to hope others had escaped? "Did you meet other survivors?"

"No we did not. However, Hosus was caught in the fight while scouting for us. She informed me of the battle's outcome."

"She was there?" Johnsa turned to stare at Hosus. As if she had heard her name called, Hosus stared right back, staunchly ignoring the argument concerning Johnsa's ability raging over her head.

"Indeed. Now tell me. What hand does Nar favor?"

"His left," she answered automatically.

"How does Hosus stand in defense?"

"With her left shoulder back and her daggers in a reverse grip. Why do you ask?" Johnsa was curious as to why Pral was asking these questions, but they also made her nervous.

Pral nodded to himself. "Yet you have never seen these things. How do you know?"

"I..." Johnsa paused, her confusion causing a small furrow in her forehead. She had no idea how she knew. "I don't know," she finished slowly.

Pral touched her shoulder, an almost sad look on his face. "You have an extraordinary talent," he said quietly.

Johnsa knew he was not talking about her new anti-magic ability.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, but Pral had already faded away, back to sitting with the group, adjudicating the argument with slight nods and waves of his calloused hand. Johnsa watched him for another moment, wondering about this enigmatic leader of such a diverse group.

What is your purpose with these people Pral?

Johnsa slept poorly that night. The revelations concerning her new abilities had left her badly shaken, and blinding red eyes dominated her nightmares.

It was the red eyes that made Johnsa flinch back into consciousness. It was almost the darkest part of the night, after the moon had set and only the stars remained, and Johnsa could barely make out a figure standing watch just beyond their campsite.

Pral. Sudden comprehension, void of any identifiable source, came to her. She suppressed a shiver at the realization that her new gift had bestowed that knowledge on her.
She watched him for a time before exhaustion dragged her back into unconsciousness.

***

Dawn greeted the small encampment through a thick covering of dark clouds. Hosus could almost taste the moisture in the air, and she was not looking forward to traveling through the wilderness in a storm.

Pral greeted her waking with a nod. He stirred from his post and began moving among their fellows, gently nudging them awake. Hosus yawned and knuckled the small of her back. An unkind root had taken refuge beneath her bedroll, one she had not noticed before retiring, and caused her minor discomfort all night. She would have moved her blankets but after there was no guarantee anywhere else would be more comfortable.

Hosus rose and shook Phanza and Bertran awake. The twins were already up and beginning their preparations for the day's travel, eager to be away from the stench of death that filled the glade. They were wise enough to fish out the oiled cloaks in anticipation of the rain. Bertran elbowed his brother, and Nar swatted at him drowsily. Nar was a notoriously late sleeper and everyone took great delight in finding new ways to get him out of his bedroll in the morning, and Hosus watched as Bertran began rolling him toward one of the corpses. She glanced over at Johnsa. The Ramadan was still in a deep sleep, her breathing easy and steady. After the shocks she received the night before, Hosus decided not to wake her yet.

Hosus noticed some movement from the sleeper when the smells of breakfast, mercifully prepared by Phanza, filled their campsite. She quickly filled a bowl with porridge, of which they had very little left she noted, and sat down next to Johnsa.

"Good morning," she said quietly.

Johnsa's eyes fluttered open, but a single ray of sunshine slipped through the clouds and made her close them tightly again.

"Morning it may be but there's..." she began, but a groan of pain interrupted her. She clutched her head, her face contorted in pain.

"What's wrong?" Hosus asked quickly, beckoning Phanza over.

"My...head..." was all Johnsa could manage, her jaw clenched tight.

Phanza joined them and knelt to examine Johnsa. Hosus noticed that he was wearing a pair of thin leather gloves but was still carefully avoiding lingering contact with Johnsa's skin. Hosus saw a great deal of sense in that, as they still did not comprehend the changes that had occurred in this strange woman.

Another outcry drew Hosus' thoughts away from Phanza's precautions and back to his charge. As she listened to Phanza quietly ask Johnsa about the pain, Hosus watched as Johnsa's skin glowed red for a moment and then...rippled. She could think of no other way to describe what happened.

Hosus snatched Phanza back from the groaning woman. Covered or not, she did not want to take the chance of Johnsa siphoning off more of his energy. What is going on?

Another rippled transfigured Johnsa's body, moving out from her center. Hosus watched as it reached her extremities and then, impossibly, continued. She watched as the rippled moved from Johnsa's arms and into the air. The ground it passed over turned to stone and roots to dust.

Hosus lay transfixed by the horrible thing emanating from Johnsa's body. Her mind screamed at her to move, but her body wouldn't respond. Time seemed to slow as the ripple spread, and Hosus could only stare in sheer terror as it spread closer to her.

But the ripple dissipated less than a foot away from its source. Johnsa now lay in a perfect circle of stone and ash. Hosus stared at Johnsa, still glowing, but now glowing white instead of red.

She glanced over at Phanza. He looked pale as a ghost, and Hosus imagined she didn't look much better. What they had just witnessed had only lasted a few seconds and had not involved them, but they were both panting as if they had run several miles.

"W-what was that?" Hosus managed, though it barely came out as a whisper.

Phanza swallowed hard and licked his lips before answering.

"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to know either. But one thing is for sure, we're both lucky to be alive and whole." He couldn't keep himself from shuddering.

What is she?! Hosus thought wildly.

The others glanced over, curious looks on their faces. Curiosity turned to concern when each noticed the newly formed stone circle. Almost as one, they rushed toward Hosus and Phanza.

"Stop!" Hosus held up her hand imperiously. "Don't come any closer."

They all stopped dead in their tracks, all except for Pral who was giving Johnsa a wide berth as he circled around to get behind Hosus and Phanza.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, still moving.

Hosus took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

"I'm not sure. She was waking up, some sunlight blinded her. She started to say something then clutched her head. She looked like she was in a lot of pain so I called Phanza over. She started to glow red like after she absorbed magic last night," she looked around to make sure everyone understood, "and then something...rippled through her." Hosus shuddered at the memory.

"Rippled through her? Explain."

Phanza continued. "Like a pebble thrown into a pond. Her body just rippled. There's no other way to explain it."

Pral was now almost behind them, though he had never taken his eyes off of Johnsa. He watched her as though she were a sleeping lion who would awaken and attack at any moment.

"Okay, so she rippled. Then what?"

"Hosus knocked me back. Thank the Gods she did, or I'd be dust right now," he finished hesitantly.

This statement stunned the group.

"You two are okay though right?" The concern in Wenley's voice was enough to bring Hosus back to her senses. She grabbed Phanza's arm and started crawling backwards.

"We're fine," she said as Pral helped them to their feet, "just a little shaken."

Pral looked them both up and down but noticed no physical hurt. He gave them a reassuring nod. Then all eyes went to Johnsa.

"What else happened? Why is she suddenly laying in a circle of rock?" Pral continued.

Hosus picked the story back up where Phanza had trailed off. "After I pulled Phanza back, she rippled again. Only this time the ripple didn't stop. It went right out of her body, right through the air. Everything it passed over turned to stone and dust."

Noticing Nar's shiver, Hosus flashed him a small, reassuring smile. "This keeps happening and even you might become a light sleeper," she quipped.

The joke hung still in the air between them all for a moment. Finally Bertran couldn't resist a chuckle, giving his brother a little shove. His laugh was infectious and soon everyone joined in. The twins were clutching their sides, gasping for air, and even Pral let out a snort of amusement. It was a nervous laughter, the type that followed a battle when one laughed at his continued survival. It helped relieve some of the group's tension.

After that one snort, Pral remained quiet, a considering look on his features as he continued to watch Johnsa.

You say she glowed?" he interrupted.

His quiet voice cut through the laughter, and Hosus nodded. Everyone was once more soberly examining Johnsa's still form.

"She glowed red. Just like her eyes after the absorbed magic last night, " Hosus reiterated, "And after the second ripple disappeared, she glowed white for a moment."

Pral's lips were pursed and Hosus could see what he was thinking.

"You think there's a connection." It was a statement, not a question.

"Possibly. No way to tell for certain. Any thoughts Phanza?"

All eyes turned to the mage.

"Her abilities are unlike anything I've ever seen or even heard of. I would imagine that the red glow of the absorption and the red glow before the rippled are linked somehow but as you said Pral, there's no way to know for sure."

Pral nodded at the assessment. "No more magic anywhere around her. From now on, someone watches her every hour of the day and night. She's too dangerous to leave on her own. Glyc, Wenley, finish packing up the gear. Bertran, Nar, I want you to go look for some vines or tough leaves. Anything we can use to bind her if it becomes necessary. Hosus, I want you to scout our back trail, see if our path is well-concealed. Don't go more than a mile. Phanza, I want you to keep a very close eye on Johnsa. Don't try to wake her until Nar and Bertran get back. If she stirs, call me. I'll start cleansing the site." He looked around to see that everyone understood. "Good. I want everyone finished and back in fifteen minutes."

At his barked orders, everyone moved out. Hosus was hesitant to leave Phanza, but Pral fixed her with a steady gaze. She sighed and faded into the underbrush back the way they came.
Phanza seated himself a few feet distant from Johnsa. She seemed to be asleep again, for her breathing was deep and even. Even so, she seemed to glow softly, illuminated more than the pale filtered sunlight could account for.

Although he had gotten control of himself again, Phanza was still badly shaken by what he and Hosus had experienced. In his years of studying, he had never before come across anything like the woman lying before him. He had read of demons who siphoned off the life energy of those around them, but from what he knew it had been restricted to living things. That ripple had turned even the ground to stone.

"What brought that on?" he muttered, thinking about the ripple. His analytical mind started churning through the facts, protecting him from the memory of almost being vaporized. They had found no similar stone circles where they had found her. She had not absorbed any magic but for the little he had fed her the night before. "Very curious."

Crouched and gazing at the still form, Phanza considered Pral's orders. His prohibition against magic was a wise decision, considering the circumstances, but it left Phanza useless. If they were forced to fight for whatever reason, he would be unable to aid the group. That thought troubled him profoundly. His magic was his entire reason for being and without it, he was a deadweight on the group.

With a shake of his head, Phanza turned his mind away from such dark thoughts. He would find a way to contribute and understanding Johnsa was the way to do it. He focused his thoughts on the problem in front of him.

In an effort to better understand what they were dealing with, Phanza attempted to systematically categorize what they knew of Johnsa's new abilities.

"She can absorb magic." He lifted a finger.

"She can do that ripple thing which apparently sucks anything living or life-giving dry." Another finger.

"She can read fighters," came Pral's soft voice from across the fire's remains.

The twins straightened abruptly and Glyc wore a positively shocked expression. Phanza nodded, curious as to how Pral knew but not overly concerned. He lifted another finger.

"How does she..." Glyc started, but Wenley threw a pot at him before he could finish.

"And she can glow." Wenley added smartly.

A fourth finger lifted almost begrudgingly, but Phanza had to admit it was something new and possibly linked.

Phanza looked at his raised fingers and wondered how many he would add as long as they traveled with this unique and enigmatic woman.

Chapter Five

“What was that?!” Glyc and Wenley asked in unison.

The group had been walking along the border of the wood heading west into the setting sun and away from the battle of the day before, or so they hoped, when they had heard an ear-rending scream from a grove further out on the plain. The group had stopped and was looking out across the grasslands. A sudden and almost viscous silence had descended after that scream, and everyone felt discomfited. Even the stoic Pral showed some nerves by loosening his sword in its sheath.

“Be wary,” Pral said, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He was answered by the soft rasp of bared steel as Bertran revealed his weapon. Pral looked over at him and shook his head. Bertran shrugged and replaced the great sword, but his fingers constantly twitched as if seeking the grooved hilt.

“Shall I investigate?” Hosus asked.

Pral shook his head again. “Something that makes that kind of sound should not be confronted, even by you, Hosus. We’ll try to bypass it in the woods and see if we can put some distance between it and us before full dark.”

Hosus nodded. What could that have been? Maybe it was an animal, but…that pain. It was all too human. Who could have done that? These thoughts intrigued her, and she spared a quick glance for Pral as he began moving deeper into the protective confines of the forest. He was absorbed in finding a fast path away from the shriek and wouldn’t notice if she disappeared quickly. At the moment he had all of his attention on the trail, Hosus slipped, unnoticed by her companions, out onto the plain.

Moving quickly away from the group, she veered toward the grove, maneuvering behind a few hills to block her from view of the forest. She needed to find out what had caused such anguish. She couldn’t have explained why she needed to, only that she did. She let out a mirthless chuckle, reflecting on the real possibility that her curiosity would be the death of her. Slowly approaching where she thought the source must be, she was greeted by the sickly sweet smell of death and decay. She peered through the screen of trees at a small clearing filled with bodies. As she moved closer, she saw both the bodies of Slandra and of men.

Were these the men from the battle a few days ago? Why did the Slandra follow them? Looking out at all of the bloody corpses, Hosus noticed it had only led to their deaths. She was astounded to see that a great many more of the bodies belonged to the Slandra than the humans. They must’ve put up one hell of a fight to take out that many snakes.

Creeping forward into the clearing, Hosus stepped lightly around the dead. She finally came within the borders of the human camp, which she could only tell by the torn cloth of the tents and some overturned cook pots. Peering around one of the mangled tents, Hosus saw a single crouched figure. She could not tell if it was a man or woman, but she was relieved to see it was human. The person’s red hair stood on end, but that was all Hosus could see. Circling around, Hosus managed to get a better look at the mysterious figure. It was indeed a woman, and a badly injured one at that. Her hair was not the only thing dyed red. All of her clothing looked as if it was crusted with dried blood. Even her face, the parts not covered in dirt, looked like it was caked in blood. But it wasn’t her hair, or her blood-stained appearance that held Hosus’ eyes. The woman’s eyes were red too, not only the whites but the irises as well. Only her pupils looked natural, and Hosus shivered in spite of herself.

A final flash of sunlight illuminated the woman, and it seemed as if those red eyes sucked in the light until they glowed. Darkness fell quickly, and as the sun dropped, so did the woman. Hosus did not stand yet, even though she was hidden by the dark. She didn’t move at all. Those eyes…those red eyes were burned into her mind. What by the gods does it mean? She can’t be human!

Waiting several unearthly moments in the dark, Hosus crept forward through the bodies and bloodied grass until she lay no more than an arm’s reach away from the now supine figure. Even in the soft moonlight, the woman gave off a reddish aura, and Hosus shivered again. She did not understand who or what lay before her, but it was something powerful. Listening carefully, Hosus heard the soft, even breathing of one in exhausted slumber.

Leaving her here would surely mean her death with all the scavengers around. What do I do? Hosus did not enjoy her uncertainty. In her hunting and stalking, she rarely felt it, even when she dealt the death blow to her quarry. Random thoughts fluttered around her mind as she mulled over this dilemma. What to do, what to do…Pral certainly wouldn’t be happy if I just showed up with this exotic woman. Hosus made up her mind. I won’t leave her to die! she thought vehemently.

Arising from her small hideaway among the corpses, Hosus moved quickly now that her hesitation had been overcome. She stepped over the few bodies in front of her and moved into the clear circle surrounding the woman. The lithe hunter moved up and scooped up the sleeping form, struggling slightly with the dead weight in her arms. Turning back the way she came, she started to hurry back to the others when a soft hissing filled her ears.

***

“Hey guys! Guys! Where’s Hosus?”

Pral looked back at Nar, who had taken up the rear guard. “She’s gone, some time back. She took off toward the source of that scream as soon as we turned deeper into the woods.” Though Hosus thought she had probably escaped unnoticed, Pral had been aware of her every step that had taken her out of eyesight, and finally out of earshot as well.

“Why would she do that? You told her not to check it out. Fool woman, when she gets back…” Bertran fell off into muttering soft curses, but his worry was etched on his features.

“Are we going after her?” asked the twins.

“We go on. If she is in trouble, she’ll have to figure out how to get herself out. She’s good at that.”

“What if she can’t? What if this time, when she needs us most, we forsake her?” Phanza said, almost in a whisper.

Pral looked back at the sorcerer, a murderous glint in his eyes. He did not appreciate being second guessed. “Alright then. We’ll vote on it. Those of you who think we should go hunt down our hunter, raise your hand.” Every hand but Pral’s shot up. An angry growl escaped from Pral, he who showed no emotion in battle.
“Follow me, and keep up. This won’t be a leisurely walk.”

Turning off the trail he had forged, Pral started at a jog through the underbrush, heading straight back to the plain. The other members eyed each other dubiously, but with mischievous grins on their faces, then ran to catch up with their leader.
Running almost full speed through a forest, even a thinning one, was no easy task, especially when encumbered by weapons and armor. After the initial jog, Pral had taken to alternating between sprints and runs. As he said, it was no leisure walk, and soon the group began to only run on the sprints and jog on the runs. Though they escaped the restricting confines of the forest relatively quickly at their pace, it left them winded for the longer portion.

Pral allowed them to rest for a moment when they reached the grasslands, but after a quick gulp from their water bags he drove them relentlessly on again. When they finally reached the knoll covered in death, they were exhausted. While the rest panted with their hands on their knees, Pral looked at them with something bordering on disdain. He was breathing normally and was only mildly sweating.

Before anyone could even slow their racing hearts, a soft hissing had every weapon pulled from sheathes and quivers in an instant. Pral held his hand down, ordering everyone to stay put and be silent, and he went forward noiselessly into the clearing ahead.

Expecting a silent return, everyone was startled when the clear ring of steel clashing against steel sounded back to them. Ignoring Pral’s command, they charged forward into the clearing to see Pral and a single gigantic Slandra wielding an enormous mace facing off, the bodies of two women lying slightly behind Pral’s defensive stance. Phanza took a looked closer and discovered that one of the bodies was Hosus. A sudden fear sprang up within him and he quickly muttered a curse that staggered the Slandra and allowed Pral to quickly decapitate it.

“Is she all right?” Phanza asked quickly, hurrying over to kneel next to the fallen hunter.

“She is alive, but it seems her impetuousness will leave her with a nasty bump and a terrible headache, which you will not heal for her,” Pral responded in a monotone.
Phanza nodded, moving forward to cradle Hosus in his arms. Bertran stood over him, peering anxiously down at his dear friend, but Nar had moved to the other body beside Hosus.

“This one is also alive, though barely. Her pulse is weak and her breathing shallow, but I see no injury. Phanza, will you examine her after you wake up Hosus?”
Phanza looked over at the other woman, nodding absently.

“Walleth utum,” he whispered, and Hosus’ eyes fluttered open, “welcome back.”

Hosus looked up into the sorcerer’s eyes, and a small smile formed on her lips before a grimace of the pain in her head transformed it. “Remind me not to do that again,” she said, a bit breathily.

Phanza smiled down at her, and then gave her into Bertran’s protective arms. Shifting over to the other still form, he closed his eyes and placed his hand upon her forehead, gripping her temples lightly with his fingers. “Utumari collasci imentro,” he said in a rising crescendo. He felt a small surge of energy pulse through his fingertips, leaving him slightly woozy. He expected the spell to return to him after it had time to work its way through the body, but after several moments, nothing happened. The spell did not return. Puzzled, Phanza opened his eyes and looked down at his patient. He looked straight into two gleaming red orbs that seem to pulse in the woman’s eye sockets, not with her heartbeat, but with his.

Phanza almost dropped her then. But his soft touch upon her forehead alone was strong enough to hold her. He did not understand why, but he could not release her. Through his fingertips, he could feel both of their heartbeats slowly matching in rhythm. When her beat mirrored his, he felt a sudden pull on his fingers…except he felt the pull force through his skin and race through his body to the core of his energy. The feeling latched on and ripped the majority of his energy right out of his body.

“Phanza? Phanza! Wake up man!”

“Wha…wha…what happened?” Phanza asked groggily. He realized belatedly that he was on his back in the grass, and no longer holding the woman.

“You just looked down at the woman, and then went stiff. Next thing we know, you’re unconscious right next to her,” Nar volunteered.

The event came back to Phanza quickly. He focused inward, examining his innate power. He was astonished to find only a miniscule amount of energy remaining. He sat up shakily, looking over at the woman next to him. Though she remained still, her eyes burned a brilliant crimson, a pulsing beacon in the deepening darkness.

“You okay?” Nar asked, worry tingeing his usual cheerful voice.

“I’m fine. I’m not quite sure what happened, but I’m all right.”

Suddenly, the area plunged into darkness. Nar let out a yelp, and even the imperturbable Pral released a soft curse, raising his sword again. Everyone waited a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust, searching with eyes and ears for some remaining enemy, and only then did Phanza notice that darkness had descended because the woman’s eyes had closed. Phanza pointed this out to the group, then bent over to peer at her intently. Her breathing was deep and even, and it seemed that she was once again sleeping. He was not about probe her to find out and risk losing his remaining energy, but he touched Nar on the arm and pointed at the woman.

“I cannot touch her again. See if she sleeps, but do not disturb her.”

Nar nodded, then crawled silently over. He nudged her gently on the shoulder, and was satisfied when she did not react.

“Good enough for me,” he whispered back to Phanza.

“Nar, stand back from her. No one is to come within three paces of her tonight, not until she wakes up and we can question her,” Pral commanded.

Everyone nodded, and Bertran bent to build a small fire.

“Um, are we really going to stay here? In the middle of all these dead people?” Glyc asked. Wenley nodded vehemently in agreement. “I mean, if she knocked out Phanza when she was asleep I can understand not wanting to touch her, but staying anywhere surrounded by the dead makes me…anxious.”

“And nauseous,” Wenley added.

Pral gave the twins a withering look. “No one touches her. And since Hosus is not likely to leave her, we stay. You can go your own way if you like.” He continued to glare at the twins as they hastily argued that staying together was probably the best idea.

Bertran had stopped when the twins began speaking, but now continued to stoke a small fire. Normally, Pral would have forbidden this, but though he showed nothing, even he was slightly disturbed by the evening’s events and allowed the comforting light. Everyone huddled around the small blaze, taking heart from the small light that winked in the darkness. Hosus leaned wearily against Bertran’s shoulder, her right arm wrapped in an improvised bandage, her eyes half-shut. Phanza was feeling the consumption of his energy, and was having a difficult time remaining conscious, so he had wrapped himself in his cloak and laid down to peer into the flames.

Sleep overcame him. His unconscious mind drifted in a world of emptiness and blinding red light. It was a restless and uncomfortable night for the young mage.

***

Dim light filtered through her eyelids, and Johnsa squinted even though her eyes were still closed. She stifled a groan when she became awake enough to register the pounding ache forming right between her eye brows. Keeping her eyes firmly clenched, she sat up, feeling around for her sword.

“Ah, she wakes,” came a voice only a few feet from her.

Despite the terrible pain behind her eyes, Johnsa’s eyes snapped open. She quickly took in the still form of a younger man, and arrayed carefully around the ashes of a small fire sat or stood six other people. She had to look again when two of them looked exactly the same, but it was the large man with a long sword slowly exiting its scabbard that made her scrabble back. Feeling her back smack against a tree, sending a fresh wave of pain through her skull, Johnsa slowly stood, prepared to run.

“Who are you?” she demanded roughly, her voice hoarse after the previous night’s massacre. Her hands gripped the trunk behind her, steadying her against the almost overpowering dizziness.

“We are friends,” came the reply from the small woman sitting in the middle of the group by the sleeping figure. The woman looked pointedly at the man with the sword, to which he merely shrugged and began drawing his blade along a whetting stone. She gave him another look he ignored completely before she returned her attention to Johnsa.

“My name is Hosus. I found you last night surrounded by dead slandra, and tried to bring you out. I was attacked myself by a slandra and my friends here saved me.”

The scene of the night of the attack came crashing back into the forefront of her mind. She remembered the engulfing tide of Slandra that had crashed against herself and her men again and again, coming ever on no matter how many fell. She remembered seeing her men being brought down one by one around her until she stood alone in a sea of slithering serpents. She could see her dead comrade whose blade she wrested from his cold grip, see her weapons slicing through enemies like butter, her vision going red in her bloodlust…and then, nothing.

“I must thank you for rescuing me. But how did you kill so many of the snakeheads?” Johnsa said slowly. She had been completely surrounded when she had blacked out. Outside intervention was the only explanation for her survival, but she was still suspicious.

The man with the blade then looked right at Johnsa, his eyes seemingly piercing to her very soul.

“We killed none of the slandra,” he said quietly.

Johnsa felt a rush of confusion. If they hadn’t finished off the Slandra, who had? She looked at the one calling herself Hosus. Johnsa felt her eyes narrow, her suspicion overcoming her confusion.

“If you didn’t kill them, then who did?”

“You are the only survivor of your band. There are no human footsteps leading into that glade after the Slandra arrived, nor are there any departing. The only logical conclusion is…”

“That you killed them all,” came a soft voice, finishing Hosus’ statement.

Johnsa turned to regard this new speaker with fear and confusion overwhelming her. He was the young man next to Hosus, now sitting up, but his slate eyes held a weary experience that belied his youth. He returned her frightened gaze calmly, and she took some small comfort from that.

“How is that possible? I was impossibly outnumbered. I was completely surrounded and then I blacked out. It couldn’t have been me,” she ended, nearly shouted, her breath coming in painful gasps. To the group, she looked like a cornered animal, frightened beyond measure and probably dangerous.

“Be still,” he said gently, “all will be well.” He waved his hand in a small gesture of healing, and to everyone’s eyes but Johnsa’s, her eyes flashed brilliantly for a moment.

Johnsa felt a little better for some reason, and she managed to get her breathing under control. Her sniffling nose, however, refused to be mastered. When the man saw her in control of herself, he continued.

“Before we go any further, I do believe introductions are in order. My name is Phanza.”

“Johnsa,” came her surprised answer
.
“Well met Johnsa,” Phanza replied, bowing his head slightly. “This is Hosus. The man sharpening his sword is Pral, the twins are Glyc and Wenley. The slumbering giant’s name is Bertran, and next to him is his younger brother Nar.”

Johnsa nodded to each named, though she received a guarded look from Nar, and surprisingly, gleaming smiles from Glyc and Wenley. She quickly returned her attention to Phanza expectantly.

“Tell me, what color are your eyes?” he asked suddenly.

Johnsa was confused by this rather random question. She took on a cautious look. “Blue,” she responded hesitantly, “why?”

Her suspicions were furthered heightened when the other members of Phanza’s group looked at her and then at each other furtively. Phanza was the only one who did not look away.

“Can you tell us why your eyes are now red?”

“What are you talking about?”

Phanza pointed to a sword that had somehow avoided being completely covered in blood. Her eyes everywhere at once, Johnsa knelt to pick it up. Looking down into the reflective surface above the guard, she saw fiery hair, a blood-covered face, and two red eyes looking back at her.

This revelation completely overwhelmed Johnsa’s fragile hold on herself. She scampered back until her back was against the tree again, lifted the sword in front of her, a feral expression painted onto her features. “Who are you? What have you done to me?” she screamed at the group.

Chapter Four

A red sun dawned, bathing the plains in a sanguine light. Crows cawed fitfully as they landed to feast among the bodies of the dead. They made no distinction between human and Slandra – to the birds, they were all delicacies in their feast. The crows’ calls seemed like a final bugle sounding the retreat for the escaping humans.

Johnsa glanced back at the descending avian cloud a few miles from her position. The site of the battle, the abandoned resting place for so many of her men. Those remaining were weary and bloodied, trooping along the outer edge of the forest they had fallen back to. After being ambushed by the vicious Slandra warriors earlier in the night, her men were in no condition to fight. She sighed, and then grabbed a soldier by his arm right before he collapsed from exhaustion. As she asked him if he was all right, she paused to survey the ragged line of her troop.

“How did it come to this?” she thought to herself.

Johnsa had joined the force of human warriors that had been growing since late autumn to combat the Slandra raiders that had left their mountain homes. Johnsa had proved her skill as a commander early on, with several decisive victories to her name, earning her the commanding rank of Ramadan. Her quick wits hadn’t helped her during the night, even against the smaller Slandra force.

Reflecting back on the skirmish, Johnsa felt confident there was nothing else she could have done to avert the silent death that had descended upon the army without warning. She was only glad she was able to save as many as she had from doom, though it did little to ease her mood. They were now far fewer than they had been, all because the army had not had enough intelligence on the enemy. The few scouts that had returned had quoted a roughly accurate number, but Johnsa somewhat petulantly thought those who survived had been cowards who did not survey the Slandra closely.

The Slandra had caught the humans in a pincer attack shortly before dawn. The snakes had dispatched the outriders and perimeter sentries more quietly than Johnsa could possibly have imagined, and then they were in among her men, slaughtering them in their sleep. If it hadn’t been for one injured man who set a Slandra on fire, the silent foe could have possibly destroyed the entire company. As it was, the commander of the army had been killed, slain in his tent. It was only after desperate combat that the humans managed to escape the trap and force an opening in the Slandra lines. Johnsa had sounded the retreat, and she and her men had fled toward the forest bordering the plain. They were walking along that border now, heading north and hopefully towards sanctuary.

The column ahead of her stopped, and even she was grateful for a rest. She had her surviving scouts leading the group, and she trusted them to find a safe place for a few hours so her men could rest. It suddenly occurred to her that they were all her men now.

A messenger jogged quickly down the lines towards Johnsa, carrying a message from the scouts. They had found what they thought was a respectable campsite, and by her leave, they should begin to ready a camp.

Johnsa walked up the line, giving encouragement and praise to soldiers as she passed, helping those who stumbled, and showing a confident attitude. She knew, as a leader, that her attitude could make or break the army. When she reached the column’s head, she surveyed their resting place. It was a small hill, bordered on the plains side by several fallen trees that had fallen away from the woods and into a natural cleft in the earth. Johnsa scrambled over them, wincing as the bark bit into her skin, and finally determined they would provide an adequate defense. The hill wasn’t particularly tall and so would not give a big advantage of high ground, but it would do. She called to the bugler and told him to give the signal to stop and make camp. He blew three short notes, and Johnsa heard her entire army give a sigh of relief.

It was another hour before everyone managed to get situated on top of the hill, and it took Johnsa a quarter hour to find soldiers who were in a good enough condition to stand watch. When everything was finally ready, she pitched her own tent. Using a wet cloth, she wiped the bloodstains from her armor, oiled her sword and finally laid down to a few hours of much needed rest.

Noon came and passed, and Johnsa slept on. Only the clamor of pots and pans finally roused her, and even then it was not easily. Sitting up groggily, Johnsa spent the next few moments rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before finally standing from her bedroll. She strapped on her armor briskly, splashed some water on her face and pulled her hair back with a leather thong. Walking from her tent, she surveyed her remaining men preparing their meal after their short respite.

Upon her exit, the man standing guard over the flap addressed his commander.

“Ramadan, the men were lax. On my patrols, I found two asleep and the others did not even detect me. They should be reprimanded.”

Johnsa shook her head sadly. Though her second-in-command was smart and eager, sometimes he was too keen to deal out punishments for minor infractions. “That will not be necessary Lens. I will speak with the men, of course, but reprimands are not needed. After our ordeal last night, everyone is tired. Besides, everyone knows you walk lighter than a winter-starved mouse,” she joked.

Lens made as if to object, but then thought better of it. Though the Ramadan seemed to be in an understanding mood, he knew how quickly that could change and did not want to anger her. “By your will, Ramadan,” he replied with a crisp salute. The doubt in his eyes did not escape Johnsa’s attention.

Johnsa watched him move off to the food lines to bring her breakfast, considering his future. If he could learn tolerance, he might just make a fine commander himself, he was already a splendid tactician, but she recognized a brutality in his nature that would be difficult to conquer. Realizing she had duties as commander to attend to, she put him out of her mind and began a quick assessment of the camp.

The sun was a few hand spans above the horizon when Johnsa felt that her men were rested enough to continue their march. They would march until sunset just to put more distance between them and the ambush site. She ordered her captains to begin packing, and soon every tent was taken down and the ranks formed up. Johnsa watched the proceedings with a small smile, proud of her men that they could perform well after the bloody massacre of the night before.

The thought made her grimace, and several of her men frowned with worry. She was their commander, their Ramadan. They were very protective of her and often chided her when she tried to take on too much. Lens approached silently behind her, and those same worried faces became stony replicas of each other in an instant. They were protective of their Ramadan, but they did not feel the same sentiments for her lieutenant.

“Ramadan, your men are ready to move out. Should I sound the march?”

“So ordered, Lens.”

He saluted Johnsa’s back as she continued to study the column, and moved off to the buglers. A barked order had them lifting their horns and the army began moving. With their divisions reformed, her men looked like a fit fighting unit once more.

Her small smile returned, and grew a little bit more when she saw her men visibly brighten under her proud gaze. She had not fought long with these men at her side and under her command, but their fights had been hard. She knew most of them personally and had been in major combat with all of them. She knew their strengths and weaknesses, their skills, and most importantly their limits. It was this intimate knowledge of her men that allowed her, in her opinion, to command them as well as she did. They trusted her, and she them, to get through any situation.

Mounting her tall chestnut stallion, Johnsa looked out once more across the lines of troops before trotting to her position in the middle of it all. She had discovered that positioning herself in the midst of her men not only made her feel more comfortable, but also made it much easier to coordinate actions should they be assaulted.

Gently nudging her way into the mass, she filed into next to Lens. As the military zealot he was, Lens never moved with the army unless he was at his designated place. His training had been so ingrained that his rigidity would hamper him should he wish to seek a command of his own. It would very likely get him killed.

“Maybe he knows that,” she thought to herself, glancing at her second. “Maybe he doesn’t move without the army around out of cowardice.” That sentiment slipped its way into her thoughts before she could even react, and she shook her head to clear away such doubts in her lieutenant. She knew he was not the bravest of men, but he had certainly shown courage the evening before. No, he was not coward, merely prudent. She glanced once more at Lens before allowing her horse to carry her forward.

Though everyone felt uneasy along their march, they were not attacked. Nightfall came, and the army had made good speed down the forest’s border. Johnsa called the halt when her scouts informed her of a defensible grove of ash trees a little further into the plains. The men crowded into the small glade among the trees, posted scouts before pitching the horse lines, and set up camp in a circular pattern around the Ramadan’s tent. Johnsa could feel the general agitation and doubled the patrols around the camp perimeter. She was disquieted by their unhampered march, and was not about to allow the snakes to surprise her again. When she finally felt her men were as protected as well as they could be, she crawled into her bedroll and puffed out her candle. Although she lay in her sheets for what seemed like an eternity, sleep evaded her.

Shortly before dawn, Johnsa finally gave up and rolled out her sheets. Donning her armor and weapon, she walked out into the cool darkness. Standing outside her tent, she took a deep breath and relished the crisp air prickling her throat. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, taking in the cool air and all the sounds of the camp. Opening her eyes, Johnsa judged it was nearly dawn, for the moon had disappeared already, and only the stars blinked down at her. Though the night was pleasant, Johnsa felt an itch between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t shake. It had been nagging her all day and even her breathing exercise didn’t lessen her irritation.

“Always darkest before dawn,” she muttered. She walked out to the perimeter and looked for her men. She only spotted one or two, and although this did not surprise her as the men were generally excellent at hiding themselves, warning bells screamed in her mind. She knew the perimeter lay out and should have been able to pick out at least one sentry, but to her eyes the perimeter was empty. She took two steps back still facing the perimeter, and then turned and sprinted back to her tent. She would not risk another ambush. Rushing inside, she kicked open one of her trunks and pulled out a small but well-used roll of vellum. It had been some time since she had used this particular tool but its worth was immeasurable. Unrolling it, she drew her dagger and dragged it across the palm of her hand with a wince. She pressed the vellum to her bleeding hand, allowed the blood to seep in for a second. She cleared her mind and spoke.

“As night meets day, and sun dispels the dark, so show me the way.”

This was a small magic she had learned long ago from her grandfather, who had been a hunter in the southern mountains. It allowed her to see with stunning clarity her surroundings within a mile radius. However, this ability could only be used once a month and Johnsa rarely withdrew the vellum from its protective shell.

Gazing outward while still holding the bloody sheepskin, Her mind flew above her body, giving her an eagle’s perspective and she looked down at her camp and the territory beyond. Shock momentarily held her in a vise grip. She saw her patrols, and though they looked intact, she doubted they would remain so for long. Not very far from them, hidden in the trees and in the troughs of the plains, was the Slandra attack force that had caught them unaware…and it had grown.

Feeling her mind return to her body, Johnsa rushed out of her tent and ran to the alarm bell. Three loud strikes gonged through the camp and she charged off to Lens’ tent.

“Get everyone up NOW! We’re under attack!” she yelled to her subordinate. Lens wasted no time with questions and immediately issued orders while donning his armor. Bugles sounded the scouts to fall back, and before most of the men could even rub the sleep out of their eyes, spears were planted, swords were drawn, and arrows nocked in a tight circle around the tents.

Still holding the vellum, Johnsa allowed her mind to fly upward once more and noticed that the enemy force had not advanced yet. She called for her men to relax momentarily and quickly rearranged her formations. She pulled her small core of berserkers back to the top of the hill to be thrown into the line as she needed, and she ordered her archers to continuously shift along the lines to maintain a steady stream of fire against the enemy. Johnsa tried to view the enemy one more time, but the vellum had cleared, and Johnsa cursed loudly for the short duration of the spell. At that moment, a cold wind blew through the whole camp, and a howl broke the tense silence.

The Ramadan looked out at her men once more, thinking this may be the last time many or all would fight together. It brought a tear to her eye, but she brushed it away hurriedly. Grabbing a horn, Johnsa shouted out to her forces.

“Friends, comrades, I will give you the truth. We are surrounded. The Slandra have us in a corner.” She saw many startled looks at this news. “This may be our final battle together. How will you fight?” She paused and surveyed the men arrayed around the encampment. She saw fear in many eyes, but some too held hope when she looked out at them. “We will make them pay for what they have done to us,” she continued, her voice echoing out to her men. “They will pay for all of the friends we have lost. They will pay in blood. I mean to live through this night and make them taste my steel.” She ended in a shout that every man heard without the horn, and they cheered with her. They cheered even during the Slandra charge that broke upon their blades like waves against the cliffs.

Dawn broke over a bloody field, yet the fighting raged on. The Slandra were bloodied, but the human forces were nearly wiped out. Every man and woman who bore arms lifted them wearily, often painfully. Three quarters of the men who had stood in defense of their lives and their captain now lay dead, sprawled across the hill and under Slandra scales. But the Slandra came on, a teeming, undulating wave of death that crawled toward the final defenders.
Of the human commanders, all but one lay dead outside the protective circle. Lens had gone down after killing five of the snakes protecting his Ramadan, and his efforts allowed Johnsa to fight her way back to the safety of her men. Now, as she looked out at the overwhelming number of Slandra and her dead companions, she felt a wave of despair. Death was almost assured for her and her men. But when she looked out once more at the bloodied, mangled corpses of her men, a feral snarl erupted from her throat. Her eyes turned a deep red, and every man near her felt his hair stand on end.

Johnsa tossed away her shield, and hefted a curved Slandra scimitar. She pushed her way through her men, stalking toward the oncoming Slandra as if she were Death incarnate. Some of her men tried to stop her, but she heard nothing. All she knew was she would rain death and destruction down upon her enemies as long as she drew breath and none would stand in her way. Her men joined her, and when she shrieked in primal fury, they answered her call. Before the sun cleared the horizon, death reigned over the grove.


It was the sound of scavengers tearing into rotting meat that finally aroused the sleeping figure. The person was covered in cuts, their armor all but shorn from their body. Their fiery hair stood on end. Sitting up, the person was surrounded by the bodies of men and Slandra alike. Looking down at the weapons in her hands, at the blood of both man and snake staining the blades, a scream ripped out of Johnsa’s body that sent every scavenger haring away. The knowledge of what she had done powered that scream, and it went on for an eternity. Darkness fell again before Johnsa collapsed again in the circle of death she had created.