Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

“Lord Marak,” Rejji called softly. “You didn’t leave any bodies.”

“I noticed that,” Marak frowned. “Has this happened before with anything other than your staff?”

“No,” Rejji replied. “The last time it was like the one Halman killed.”

“I suspect the Sword of Torak has similar properties to your staff,” Mobi stated. “Did it warm your hand, Lord Marak?”

“I did not notice,” Marak admitted. “Let us worry about it later.”

The group returned to silence as Lord Marak led them deeper into the ancient city of Angragar. A shriek was heard in the distance as they passed a cross street and Rejji saw one of the creatures several blocks away. Rejji expected Lord Marak to pick up the pace after the shriek, but the Khadoran stayed with the same steady pace they had started with. He wondered if Lord Marak had even heard the shriek or knew what it meant.

“They know we are coming now,” Rejji said nervously, but Lord Marak just nodded.

As they got closer to the square in the center of the city, more shrieks were heard and more hellsouls were seen down the cross streets. Everyone in the party knew that the hellsouls were gathering in the square to attack the humans, but nobody spoke. Lord Marak kept their advance to a steady and predictable pace. Half a block from the square, Lord Marak suddenly stopped.

“Mobi, be very careful now,” Marak said softly. “They will come from my end first, but soon they will come your way too. Pay no attention to what we are doing up here. If you feel there are too many at your end, shout.”

The group stood in the center of the broad avenue and waited in an eerie silence. For several minutes, nothing happened. Eventually, a hellsoul appeared in the square and peered down the avenue. It stood there for a moment, perhaps perplexed by the halt of the humans, and then it let out a loud shriek and moved towards them. Others could be seen coming around the corners of the building in the square. Halman and Gunta moved forward and stood abreast of Lord Marak. Soon the square was blotted out as the black shapes funneled into the broad avenue.

Marak swung the Sword of Torak as the first black shape stepped close enough for him to reach. The head of the hellsoul went flying upwards and turned into a puff of dark cloud as its body fell to the ground as a pile of cloth. Shrieks echoed off the buildings as the wave of hellsouls continued forward. Soon, the three Torak soldiers were swinging their swords back and forth. Bodies started to pile up around Halman and Gunta and Rejji darted behind each of them in turn and touched his staff to hellsouls as they fell. Rejji heard Mobi behind him clashing with his spear and suddenly Mobi’s voice rang out.

“More than I can handle back here. The dead are starting to rise.”

“Now we move forward,” called out Lord Marak.

The three Torak soldiers screamed as loudly as they could and started moving forward, felling the hellsouls as they advanced. The hellsouls hesitated at the sound of the screams, and as they saw the black clad Torak soldiers coming at them through the billowing cloud of smoke, many of them turned and ran. Those that didn’t run were sliced by the long two-handed swords wielded by the Khadorans. Rejji ran after the Khadorans in a zigzag as he raced to touch each fallen body with his staff. As they entered the square, Marak saw that the hellsouls had spread out into a large semicircle, which he figured is what they had planned all along.

“Which way is the temple?” he called out.

“The large building on the right side of the square,” Rejji answered.

“Get ready to run,” ordered Marak. “As soon as we show which direction we are going, the others will try to close in on us. My men will open a path for you to run through. Don’t worry about touching their dead; just get the door open for us. Now!”

The Khadorans turned as one and charged the portion of the semicircle that blocked their path to the temple. Shrieks filled the square, as the intent of the humans became known. Halman and Gunta stopped short and turned to face the curve of the semicircle as the hellsouls converged on them. Marak continued onward and started slashing at the thin line of hellsouls with his long sword. Rejji raced through the gap created by the Khadorans with Mobi on his heels. Mobi halted on the steps of the temple and turned to face the square as Halman and Gunta slowly backed their way towards the temple.

Rejji shouted as he opened the door and Marak signaled his men to fall back as he continued to slice through the hellsouls. As soon as he felt his men pass him, Marak turned and ran. They dashed through the door and Rejji slammed it closed.

“Anybody get cut?” questioned Mobi.

They all shook their heads.

“Wasn’t that a little risky?” questioned Rejji. “We could have been trapped in that block.”

“Not as risky as you think,” answered Lord Marak. “Their swords are a lot shorter than ours. They could not cut us unless we made a mistake.”

“They are also slower,” added Gunta. “And now they are about fifty fewer in number.”

“At least fifty,” Mobi grinned. “And they are afraid of us now. I like that feeling much better than last time. Dumo will like you Khadorans.”

“If the other Qubari fight as you do, Mobi,” smiled Marak, “Dumo is a fortunate chief indeed. Let’s rest a minute before we go to the mural.”

“Did you scream to scare them?” asked Rejji.

“The screaming by itself would not scare them,” explained Halman. “It breaks their concentration and causes hesitation if they are not expecting it. When put together with a change in posture, such as us advancing rather than defending, it can cause great uncertainty.”

“And being uncertain is not the best feeling in a pitched battle,” added Gunta. “They fled back to the square where they were more comfortable, but that in itself gives them a new feeling of being defensive rather than aggressive.”

“They are not so afraid that they will not attack us again,” interjected Lord Marak. “It is just enough to make them wary. What we must avoid is allowing them to surround us. That is why I stopped mid-block so they only had two approaches to us. If they had had four, we would have been in serious trouble.”

“Will we do the same thing to get out of the city?” asked Rejji.

“No,” answered Marak. “Always do the unexpected. I think we shall try to sneak out at night.”

“They will be hard to see in the night,” protested Mobi as he lit a torch.

“So will we,” smiled Marak. “And the Sword of Torak does warn of their close presence as the staff does. Let’s worry about our departure when the time comes. I am ready to see the mural.”

Rejji led the group past the stairs and through the large room with the altar. He opened the door at the end of the hallway and went to the far end of the long table. Mobi caught up to the group and raised a torch high above his head. Lord Marak stood staring at the mural for a few minutes.

“That is Lyra, the Star of Sakova,” declared Lord Marak.

“You know her?” quizzed Rejji.

“Yes,” nodded Marak. “She is around our age and leads the Sakovan people, far south of Fardale. I visited with her not long ago. This makes me more curious than ever. It indicates that our three lives are intertwined in one fate. Mobi, what is the name of your god?”

“Kaltara,” Mobi answered. “Have you heard of him?”

“Indeed I have,” nodded Lord Marak. “Kaltara is the god of the Sakovans.”

“So we have Lord Marak flanked by two people who have been chosen by this god, Kaltara,” posed Gunta, “yet in Khadora we have many gods and don’t take any seriously. This does not make sense.”