“What a shot,” Jason said, hardly believing it.
“I’ve had some practice,” Farfalee replied.
“They’re pulling back!” Aram called, hurling a stone larger than a bowling ball.
Nedwin approached Farfalee, jutting his chin toward where her arrow had flown. “Those three were the leaders?”
“Appears so,” she replied.
“I can get the other two,” Nedwin said.
“By all means,” she invited.
Dropping flat to the ground, Nedwin crept like a salamander to the opposite side of the butte from where they had ascended, then slunk over the edge.
“Don’t watch him,” Farfalee murmured, turning away. “If he succeeds, it will be by stealth.”
“They’re already re-forming,” Aram said.
“They might try to send some up one of the steeper faces,” Farfalee warned. “Corinne, watch that one. Nollin, the far one. I’ll keep an eye on the other.”
Corinne moved to watch the designated face. The others were gathering rocks to help repel the next assault.
“Drake,” Nollin said. “I’ll keep Halco’s amar.”
“If you prefer,” Drake replied, fishing the seed from a pouch. “That should keep the amar away from the fighting.”
Nollin grunted. “Some of us have to survive for the good of the mission. Seems like it’s chiefly my people laying down their lives on our behalf so far.”
“Which is according to plan,” Farfalee reminded everyone. “Nollin, please watch the rear approach.”
He hustled over to the far side of the butte to stand guard.
Two more attacks came in the next few minutes, both quelled before the zombies gained much ground. Aram could throw large stones with chilling accuracy, leaving undead enemies functionless after a direct hit or two. A pair tried to scale the back side, but failed.
Rachel remained unconscious throughout. Jason checked her breathing and pulse during lulls.
After the first two attacks, the night became still. Eventually Nedwin returned, signaling carefully before climbing the easiest side.
“They’ve pulled back,” he announced after reaching the top. “I dispatched two of the three leaders. They were a little tough to find. I finished the man with the arrow in his head and cut down a short, older man. I left the woman alive after she vowed to withdraw with her remaining forces.”
“She could communicate?” Farfalee asked.
“With some exertion, yes. Her mind is far gone. But with her companions disabled and having freshly lost a limb, she made the effort.”
“You believe we can trust her?” Nollin challenged.
“Not much,” Nedwin replied. “But I wanted to prevent us from getting besieged here. I think we can at least trust her sense of self-preservation. More than half of her followers have been rendered inert. She knows I can get to her whenever I choose. I watched her lead the others away before I returned. I demanded that they go north, away from our route, and they complied.”
“You didn’t get infected?” Nollin asked.
“I’m uncompromised,” Nedwin said.
“We should move,” Ferrin urged. “The leader could change her mind. Or she might lose control of her minions. Nedwin is right. We can’t afford to get pinned down.”
“I agree,” Farfalee said. “We’ll have to choose our campsites with greater care. Our scouts should range even farther. Had we stopped for the night atop this rock, we might still have Halco with us.”
“I’ll carry the girl,” Aram muttered, picking up Rachel carefully.
Jason found the climb down the little bluff disconcerting. Fleeing up the craggy slope to escape zombies had seemed simple. But while descending, he found it hard to decide where to place his hands and feet. Forced to gaze down in search of handholds, he became disconcertingly aware of the height and the potential fall. Corinne seemed to climb down without much trouble, which motivated him to endure the descent without complaint.
The rest of the night passed quietly, although Jason kept a hand on his sword. He had slashed his way past two zombies during the hurried escape. It had felt like hacking at bundles of dead sticks—they weren’t overly heavy or solid, and his blade hadn’t cut very deep. He had basically used his sword as a tool to knock them away while he dodged around them.
The group remained in motion until dawn, when Aram shrank and had to lay Rachel down. Nedwin, Kerick, Drake, and Ferrin were off scouting in different directions. Farfalee knelt beside Rachel and wafted a tiny bag of smelling salts beneath her nostrils. Rachel’s eyes opened abruptly, and she sat up with a gasp.
Farfalee placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “We’re all right,” the seedwoman assured her.
Rachel sagged a bit. “That’s good.” She narrowed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Ow!”
“You overextended yourself,” Farfalee said. “I used to see it with wizards of old.”
“I burned a lot of those zombies,” Rachel said with a smile.
“Yes,” Farfalee said. “I was surprised how much power you brought to bear. If you were able to muster much more, you probably would have destroyed yourself along with them. Be grateful you passed out. You must learn to rein in your abilities before they destroy you. It would be shameful to see such promise snuffed out.”
“I’ll try to be careful,” Rachel said, although her expression looked stubborn rather than repentant. “You knew wizards?”
“The eldest of my people remember our father, Eldrin, and the wizards of his time,” she said. “And I am among the eldest. Can you stand?”
“I think so.” With help Rachel arose, her face scrunched up. “My head is pounding. And my joints feel sore.”
“Ideally, I would let you rest,” Farfalee apologized. “Unfortunately, we’re far from the ideal out here.”
“And our biggest asset won’t be back until sundown,” Jason added.
Farfalee nodded. “Without Aram to force a way past our attackers, we might all have perished. Let’s hope we can evade them throughout the day.”
It was afternoon when Drake reported the approaching horsemen.
“Three of them,” he said, still breathing hard after his sprint to rejoin the group. “Heading right for us.”
Farfalee suggested they retreat to the cover of some boulders to help negate any advantage the horses might offer. She got her bow ready. Nedwin and Ferrin returned from scouting before the horsemen came into sight, although Kerick remained abroad.
All three horsemen wore helms and armor. They cantered briskly, eventually bringing their steeds to a halt and saluting from a distance. “Hail, visitors to our land,” called the foremost rider. He waved a white handkerchief. “May we approach and confer under a flag of truce?”
“You may,” Farfalee invited.
The horsemen rode forward at a walk, stopping several paces shy of the cluster of boulders. “Who is your leader?” asked the rider in front, face hidden by a visor.
“I am,” Farfalee answered boldly, striding into view. “Who do you represent?”
“The last remnant of the grand kingdom of Ebera,” he replied, removing his helm. The rider looked to be in his twenties, with thick auburn hair, heavy eyebrows, and shaggy sideburns. He had an unhealthy pallor.
“You’re not infected?” Farfalee asked, astonished.
He gave a somber smile. “None escaped the plague. Some of us have managed to cling to our reason. You are one of the Amar Kabal?”
“Indeed,” Farfalee answered. “Great need has brought us into your realm.”
“No doubt you have your reasons,” he acknowledged. “You come at a timely hour. Our reasoning citizenry has dwindled. Only a few years ago we had five settlements. Now three remain. We must outlast the mindless ones and the hungry ones.”
“We faced many of the walking dead last night,” Farfalee said.
The rider nodded. “Many fell. Others have been left vulnerable. Our leaders are strategizing over how
best to exploit the opportunity. Come with us. Let us escort you to safe beds and warm food.”
“Safe beds?” Farfalee questioned. “Shouldn’t we fear contamination?”
“We mean you no harm,” the rider assured her. “We are drawn to your blood, but we have learned to curb our thirst. We keep herds within the city walls and sate our urges with the blood of animals. We could use your help, and you need ours. The mindless ones and hungry ones have united into savage tribes. The largest lies to the south and already has your scent.”
“How many?” Farfalee asked.
“Several hundred,” he replied, “including a multitude of cunning chieftains.”
Jason shivered. How could they possibly get past an army of several hundred zombies?
“Perhaps you can aid us,” Farfalee allowed. “We have to cross your land and reach the Prophetess of Mianamon to the south.”
The rider hesitated before responding. “You’re aware that none who enter Ebera are permitted to leave.”
“Our need is an exception,” Farfalee stated.
His unblinking eyes did not leave hers. “We allow no exceptions. Do you understand the virulence of this condition? A mighty kingdom succumbed within days. We sentinels have stood watch ever since to contain the epidemic. Without our efforts and our fortunate geography, all of Lyrian would share our fate.”
“I am Farfalee, daughter of Hessit,” Farfalee said calmly. “What is your name?”
“Borial.”
“Inform us about the condition, Borial.”
“The goma worms inhabit human flesh,” Borial said. “We have encountered no other susceptible animal. The worms were perfectly engineered in that respect. They feed on blood, preferably human, but any fresh blood can nourish them. Introduced to a living subject, the worms multiply and consume all internal blood within two days. Once the blood is depleted, the worms keep the body operational and share the desire for more blood with their host.”
“How did you resist the urges?” Farfalee asked.
“Strength of will, I suppose,” Borial said. “I’ve always had a deep sense of self and a strong respect for propriety, which is common among those who have resisted. My aptitude for resistance may also be physiological, a consequence of how the worms physically interact with my tissue and my brain. Most could not suppress the urge, which helped the disease spread. Without the blood of animals, the hunger would eventually govern even the strongest of us. As we’re injured, or as we age, some among us lose our restraint.”
“You appear young,” Farfalee observed.
“The worms preserve our bodies at the age we were taken,” he said. “They can work remarkable feats of healing. But every injury takes a toll, particularly where the brain is involved.”
“Some of the walking dead seem to have lost their humanity,” Nedwin observed. “But the leaders among those we faced were still capable of speech.”
“Succumbing to the hunger seems to accelerate the decline of the mind,” Borial said. “In the end, they become the mindless ones. Some hold on to awareness longer than others. The hungry ones lack restraint but retain some human cunning.”
“Why haven’t they sought to escape Ebera?” Farfalee asked.
“Some have tried,” Borial said. “We don’t let them. We have patrolled the borders since we first established any stability. King Linus helped protect the reasoning individuals among the infected and saved Lyrian. He burned the ships, wrecked the ferries, demolished the bridges, and closed the borders. He retained his reason after becoming infected, and helped those of us with self-possession to wall ourselves away from the others.
“The early days were ugliest. An endless massacre on both sides. Entire towns burned. Fire is the best way to ensure the destruction of the worms. They can hibernate for centuries. Over time they can knit broken bodies back into functionality.
“I do not believe Kel Jerud meant to destroy the world if thieves invaded his tower. Just Ebera. For all their adaptability, he designed the worms with several weaknesses. They are not fond of sunlight. They detest extreme heat and cold. They abhor water. And they perish in fire.”
“I see,” Farfalee said. “The abhorrence of water keeps them off the sea and away from the rivers. The dislike of cold keeps them from scaling the mountains or working their way into the tundra. Their distaste for sunlight further discourages travel. And should all else fail, the reasoning dead hold them in check.”
“Correct,” Borial confirmed. “I’m not sure Kel Jerud anticipated the reasoning dead. We’re actually most important for people like you. Mortals who cross into Ebera and who might exit contaminated actually pose the greatest threat. King Linus still wears the crown, and his incontrovertible edict is that all who enter Ebera must remain. We will attempt to let you dwell among us without contamination for as long as possible. Our settlements are within strong walls, though the largest tribes of hungry ones have found ways to threaten our security of late.”
“Did they only recently become organized?” Nedwin asked.
“To this scale, yes,” Borial replied. “A startling adaptation. One of our great advantages, despite our limited numbers, has always been our capacity for teamwork. Over the years, we began to realize our dream of hunting the mindless ones into extinction. We bred livestock behind our walls while in the surrounding countryside easy prey had grown scarce. The most devious of the hungry ones kept out of our way, hiding in deep lairs. In recent years they have begun to unite and attract followers. All of us can detect blood from great distances, and the blood of our livestock called to them. Unity was the only way to rob us, so they united, and some of our strongholds have fallen, along with some of our most stalwart warriors. Only the three strongest settlements remain, defended by fewer hands than any of us would prefer.”
“And you want our help defending your walls,” Farfalee concluded.
“That, and more,” Borial acknowledged. “Human blood is irresistible to our foes. They can survive on animal blood, but yours is nectar. The scent of your blood could lure them into folly. If we can finally trap them and burn them, all of Lyrian will be safer.”
“We are also on a mission to save Lyrian,” Farfalee explained.
“From what threat?” Borial inquired.
“The emperor Maldor,” Farfalee said. “The former apprentice to Zokar is poised to bring all of Lyrian under his dominion. Our party represents the last hope for the races of Eldrin and any who oppose darkness, injustice, and tyranny.”
“I am willing to accept that your cause is just and good,” Borial said. “However our duties as the sentinels of Ebera transcend all matters of politics and personal interest. None who enter Ebera may leave for any reason. We will faithfully uphold that decree until the last of us expires.”
“We’re not infected,” Drake said with some heat in his voice. “If we were compromised, yes, by all means, prevent us from leaving. But since we’re whole, why not help us make it through your kingdom without contamination?”
“This plague could destroy all human life in Lyrian,” Borial bristled. “The only sure way to contain it is by never making exceptions.”
“Exceptions have already been made,” Ferrin countered. “Maldor has sent spies into Ebera more than once. He will do so again. If he can use the plague as a weapon, he will. He must be stopped. He represents a much greater threat of contamination than our modest delegation. He is the enemy we seek to dethrone.”
“We’ve been attacked by one group of worm-infested maniacs already,” Drake asserted in a steely tone. “Despite your powers of reason, I’m not finding much difference between you and your less civil countrymen, except in numbers.”
“Drake,” Farfalee cautioned.
“What?” Drake replied coldly. “You see where this is going. It won’t end politely, so there’s no use in squandering valuable time.”
“Does this one speak for all of you?” Borial asked, eyes darting.
“We need horses,” Farf
alee said. “With horses we could easily cross Ebera without becoming contaminated.”
“Perhaps,” Borial considered. “We would have to visit the lord of our settlement. If you explain your need in full, he might grant what you ask.”
An arrow appeared in Farfalee’s hand, ready to fly, her bow suddenly stretched. Jason could not say how she had nocked and pulled it so quickly. “We won’t walk into any traps. You cannot imagine the import of our mission. Let us continue on our way, and we will let you return to your duties. You need to dismount now, or your reasoning dead will lose another able warrior.”
Borial smirked. “Farfalee, there are many others like me—mounted, well equipped, and ready to do anything to prevent you and your comrades from leaving Ebera. They know where I am. They know when I should return. Listen to reason. Do not act rashly. Lay down your arms. Join us. Trust others to take up your cause. Your road must end here, for the good of all.”
“I don’t want to harm you,” Farfalee said, unflinching. “We need your mounts, and I can’t have you warning your fellow sentinels.”
Borial did nothing to conceal his outrage. “I have spent more than a hundred years protecting you!” His eyes shifted to Drake. “And you.” Then to Nedwin. “And you. Yet you threaten me because you find the precautions necessary to safeguard humankind inconvenient?” He plunged a hand into a satchel and pulled out a heap of little gray balls piled onto his palm. “Hibernating goma worms. Of no threat to me. But potentially quite problematic for you. Should I toss them in your direction, at least half of you will face infection. That might alter the tenor of our conversation.”
Jason prepared to dive behind the nearest boulder. The other horsemen had each grabbed their own handful of worms.
“Is there any room for compromise here?” Farfalee asked, her arrow trained on the center of Borial’s forehead.
Before Borial could reply, his hand burst into flame. So did the hands of the other two riders. So did all three satchels from which the goma worms had been withdrawn.
“Fly!” Borial cried, face contorted in pain. The three riders wheeled their horses about. Farfalee put futile arrows in two of their backs. Nedwin darted from amid the boulders and tore one rider from the saddle before his horse could pick up speed. Extending a hand, Rachel flung Borial from his saddle with a gesture and a word, then dropped to one knee, one hand pressed to the hollow of her temple, blood leaking from one nostril.