Mary Herbert - Flight of the Fallen

Linsha closed her eyes and fought to bring her heart and her breathing back under control.

“So the Tarmaks have come to your rescue once again,” Sir Remmik said, his voice full of acid.

“Shut your gob, you stupid fool,” Mariana retorted. “You led them to us and handed Linsha to them on a platter. You just can’t see it, can you? The Tarmaks don’t want to rescue their spy. They want her to help keep Crucible under control.”

Sir Remmik did not reply.

Neither did Linsha. She was angry beyond words. Angry at Sir Remmik, angry that her body was hurting in every muscle again, angry that she had walked into another trap. Worst of all, it appeared she was going to be taken back to the Tarmaks and the Akkad-Ur where they could use her to coerce Crucible to obey.

At least this time she was returning to Crucible with some hope. The leaves of the Grandfather Tree lay hidden in her undertunic, and the words of Danian and the image of Iyesta lay hidden in her mind. All she had to do was put them together and deduce what she was supposed to do. Maybe Lanther could help her. She had a feeling she would be seeing him all too soon.

The Tarmak army was still on the move when the trackers returned with their prisoners late in the afternoon of the next day. The forces of the Akkad-Ur had crossed the river two days before, but rather than follow the example of the elves and strike straight across the interior desert, the Tarmaks turned southwest to follow the Run around the southern border of Duntollik. Although this route would also take them through harsh desert lands, it provided a road for guidance and it paralleled the Red Rose River, the western branch of the Toranth, for over a hundred miles. It led to the small towns of Stone Rose and Willik and eventually to Duntol, the largest city in the area. The Akkad-Ur, a veteran of many campaigns, knew he did not need to pursue the band of militia and their tribal reinforcements into the wilds of the desert. Eventually, the defenders of Duntollik would have to come to him.

Under orders from the Akkad-Ur, the trackers took the prisoners directly to the slave gangs and turned them over to the Tarmak overseer. The overseer cut them loose from the horses, chained their feet, and forced them to march in front of him until the Akkad-Ur called a halt for the night at sundown. As the army settled into its camp for some rest, the overseer separated the rest of the Knights of Solamnia and added them to Linsha’s group, which he kept under heavy guard in a place a little apart from the other slaves. The Knights milled around for a short while then sat apart from Linsha and Mariana and waited.

Linsha, too, waited with some trepidation. Although no one had said anything, she was certain they were being kept aside for the Akkad-Ur to interrogate. After all, she and Mariana had been with the tribal confederation for two days, and Sir Remmik and his escort had ridden through the camps. They all were probably due for some questioning, and Linsha doubted it would be pleasant.

She wondered, too, about a reunion with Lanther. She had missed his presence and his crooked smile, but they had not parted in the best of circumstances. Would he be angry? She could see him standing at the edge of the slave camp, his arms crossed, his weight shifted to his good leg, his rugged face glowering at the Tarmak guards as they watched the prisoners.

Thoughts of Crucible crossed her mind as well. She and the others had been brought in slung across the backs of their horses. It was hard to see anything when your nose and face are being bumped and rubbed by the rib cage of a horse. She hadn’t seen Crucible, but she knew he was still there by the distant sound of a dragon roar shortly after the army made camp.

The night grew later, and still there was no sign of the Akkad-Ur or anyone else of authority. No one brought them water or food or gave any indication that they were supposed to do anything more than wait. A new moon slowly settled to the west, and a cold breeze sprang up. Sometime near midnight, Linsha thought she heard an owl cry far away. And that was all. The warriors of the Tarmak slept, while the prisoners shivered in the wind and waited for day.

The army was awake and preparing to move in the early light of morning when the Akkad-Ur and his guards rode down the lines to the rear of the camp where the wagons were being loaded and oxen hitched to their yokes. Among the dust and the crack of whips, they rode swiftly, their blue-painted skins an odd contrast to the yellows, browns, and dusty reds around them. They stopped their horses by the small group of prisoners and dismounted.

The overseer was already busy with the tasks of the day, but he dropped his work on his second underling and hurried over to the greet the Akkad-Ur.

Mariana, Linsha, the Knights, and Sir Remmik climbed warily to their feet, as their guards moved aside and formed a loose square around them. The Akkad-Ur’s escort filled in the line behind the prisoners and he strode to their front.

The busy slaves and drivers close by seemed to sense something was about to happen and they stopped work to watch. Lanther crept closer, his face grim.

“Sir Remmik, did you fulfill your task?” the Akkad-Ur demanded of the Knight.

“I did,” he replied coolly. “The answer was no. They are determined to fight.”

“Good. It is much better that way.”

“Akkad-Ur,” said the Solamnic commander in a firm voice. “You told me if I returned with the reply, you would free my men.”

The Akkad-Ur inclined his mask. “That is true. However, you disobeyed me, and you had to be brought back by my men. I did not ask you to apprehend this woman.”

Sir Remmik threw a scathing look at the guards around him. “I did not. I arranged a meeting with her to discuss Solamnic matters. Your warriors interrupted that meeting and apprehended all of us.”

“Solamnic matters!” The Akkad-Ur sneered. “What have you left to discuss with a traitor?”

Sir Remmik drew himself up to his full height and gave the Tarmak his chilliest patrician glare. “The possibility that she is not a traitor,” he said. “And that you are a liar.”

“It is unimportant. The Solamnics are no longer of use.” The Akkad-Ur raised his hand. Swords flashed in the sunlight as the Tarmak guards drew their long blades. Before anyone could move, they slew six of the unarmed Knights. The rest scrambled in a sudden panic to escape from the tall warriors. Sir Remmik yelled at his men to stand their ground, and he leaped like a madman on a warrior attacking a wounded Knight.

Shouts and cries of horror came from the watching slaves, who crowded closer.

The Knight Commander was so distracted trying to defend his men that he did not see the Akkad-Ur attack the women. The Tarmak descended on Mariana and Linsha like an executioner, pulling a vicious-looking spiked battle-ax from a strap behind his back. “As for you,” he bellowed at Linsha, “you tried to escape, but you will never have that opportunity again!”

Even while he spoke he turned slightly, lunged, and stabbed the spiked end into the half-elf’s stomach. He wrenched the point upward through her stomach and into her lungs. Blood splashed over his hands.

Sir Remmik heard Linsha scream, an appalled cry of fury and grief that wrenched his attention around to her. He turned and saw Mariana vomit a bout of crimson blood. Her hands groped at the metal spike in her abdomen, but she was already dying. Her skin went deathly pale beneath the splattered blood. She sagged to her knees, her face a mask of disbelief and agonizing pain. When the Akkad-Ur pulled his ax out of her body, she pitched forward at Linsha’s feet, and her blood pooled on the graveled ground.