T Lain - City of Fire

The half-orc pulled the packet back, but still he hesitated. He waited patiently, though, for his friend to continue.

“The secrets I protect lead to a treasure beyond either of our imagining. If that was all, I would have gladly given it up to save Kalpesh, but the treasure is secondary. These secrets are secrets of power. This disk is the key to an empire beyond this world.”

Tahrain paused, the adrenaline fueling his tired limbs was spent. The half-orc stared at Tahrain with a look that said he was hearing everything and storing it away, even if he didn’t understand.

“It isn’t just a matter of getting this somewhere safe, or keeping it from those who desire it,” the captain continued. “The attack against Kalpesh is proof that someone else knows about this.” Tahrain wiped his brow and looked down. The disk was still partially visible and he fixed his gaze on it. “I don’t know everything there is to know about it. I’ve told you everything I do know, these last few nights. I know that the time has come for someone to seal the gate and destroy the key. I’m sorry, but it has to be you.”

The captain looked toward the meager camp, but his soldiers hadn’t stirred.

“I’m giving this to you so you can finish a job that began centuries ago. I’ve made you learn every part of it in case we can’t make it to the canyon. You’ve got to get away and carry this knowledge somewhere safe. Find people you can trust to help you, and then do the things I taught you.

“We can’t all make it, Krusk,” he whispered. “Unless a miracle occurs, you’re the only one.”

“No. You’re the captain. You will make it,” Krusk said, as if the strength of his words could make them true, but Tahrain shook his head and smiled sadly.

“I won’t. I can’t leave them—” he waved his hand at the sleeping guardsmen—“Fortune is against me, but my whole life has been dedicated to this task. Through you, I can fulfill it.”

Tahrain put his hand on the packet Krusk still held. He pressed it against the half-orc’s chest. Reluctantly, Krusk tucked it away inside his armor.

When Tahrain finally threw himself down amid his soldiers, his eyes still found Krusk standing alone near the edge of the camp, the half-orc’s face turned toward the darkened desert.

“Captain! Look!” one of the soldiers on point called out, drawing the attention of everyone with any attention to spare.

She waved her arms and gestured toward the horizon. In the light of the new morning, Tahrain squinted ahead and saw the unmistakable outline of hills.

Still far off in the distance, but within sight, he thought as he felt a grim strength renew itself in his limbs. There is hope. The canyon is safety. If we can reach it, we’ll stand a chance.

A cry from the rear of the company interrupted Tahrain’s hopeful thoughts. The warning came from Krusk. Tahrain squinted back toward the source of the sound and felt his empty stomach sink. A cloud of swirling sand broke the evenness of the horizon behind them.

“Dust storm?” Polrus asked without much hope.

Krusk jogged through the company, stoically ignoring the pain and frustration of those around him. Stopping in front of the captain, he gave his report.

“They’re coming, Captain,” he growled. He had his bow in his hands, strung. “An hour back at this pace, maybe less.”

Tahrain cursed. “So they’ve caught us. We can’t reach the canyon ahead of them. Now’s the time.”

He looked pointedly at Krusk. The half-orc ignored him but Polrus opened his mouth to ask a question.

Krusk interrupted, “Can you run?”

Polrus blinked, then shut his mouth.

A sneer came to his lips but Krusk leaned in and growled, “Run or die, human. Your choice.”

The challenge was all the lieutenant needed.

“We can run,” Polrus said loudly.

The soldiers around him looked up, startled. He licked his dry, cracked lips.

“We can run, half-breed,” he said even louder, shrugging out of his pack and throwing its useless weight to the ground.

Most of the soldiers followed their lieutenant’s lead, abandoning everything they couldn’t use in a fight.

“Everyone! Get in close,” Tahrain called.

The soldiers kept moving forward, but clustered around their captain. They were tired, sore, and thirsty, but they hadn’t given up yet. Tahrain blinked in the sunlight. He was proud of them, and he wished he hadn’t doomed them all.

“The canyon’s ahead,” Tahrain called. “It’s not close, but if we can make it there, we can use the cover of the rocks to punish them for what they did to our city.” It wasn’t a rallying cry so much as a statement of hope. “They’re close behind. I want everyone to jog, double time, and drain your waterskins if you’ve anything left.”

Some looked at the captain with confusion, but most understood. Water would do them no good if they died before they could drink it.

“Keep them and your weapons, drop everything else. If you can’t run,” the captain continued, already panting, “don’t try.” His face darkened as he said what needed to be said, “And don’t stop for anyone. If you can’t keep up, stop where you are and find cover. Slow them down. Die with honor.”

As the captain ran, he looked around and saw grim determination on the faces of men and women he’d known for years. His lieutenant, Polrus, jogged by his side, and when their eyes met, he simply nodded. They trusted him, he knew, and they were content in their duty.

Then they heard the howls.

At first, the sound was like wind raking across the dunes. Then the sound came like dogs baying in a hunt. That would have been frightening enough, but there was something about the howls that didn’t seem like the wind, or like dogs, but like a language. The howls had words in them, foul, inhuman words crying out behind the exhausted soldiers.

Soldiers started to run, not jog. Bursts of adrenaline carried a few men and women past the front of the company.

When the captain noticed their discipline breaking, he called out to Polrus, “Keep everyone together! No running—double-time, that’s all!”

The captain panted. The lieutenant stumbled but kept up the pace as he moved toward those who seemed on the edge of panic. He couldn’t get to them all, but most started to slow, to maintain a steady pace. Those that didn’t slow, the company passed in minutes, gasping, struggling on the ground, trying to stand.

“Fight,” the half-orc said as he passed the fallen. “Die with honor.”

Before long, the howls behind them mingled with screams as the first to fall out were overrun. Tahrain raised his sweat-soaked head, and the nearness of the canyon surprised him. Already they were passing scrub grasses and mounds of dirt. In a few minutes they’d reach cover.

But there were no more minutes. The soldiers could run no farther. Nearly half the company had collapsed already. Tahrain called out to the half-orc, only a few steps in front of him. The barbarian pulled up short and looked back at his leader.

“Now—now’s the time!”

Krusk shook his ugly head but Tahrain stopped his refusal with a curse.

“Now, damn it! You’ve got to get away. I’m going to die here regardless of what you do. My only hope lives with you.”

He slammed his palm against Krusk’s chest, where he knew the half-orc kept the packet.

But still Krusk refused to part. He gripped his greataxe and looked at Tahrain. When the two pairs of eyes met, Tahrain wondered how anyone could consider this misshapen creature anything but a valiant man.

“Go,” Tahrain pleaded.

“Lookout!”

The cry came suddenly and Tahrain whirled away from Krusk.

A mounted figure seemed almost to materialize out of the swirling dust and heat shimmers amid the remnants of his company. It drove in among the rearguard—a black horse, a rider clad all in black armor, and a sword upraised like Hextor’s own. Tahrain had seen this figure from the city wall, commanding the assault.