The Wanderer's Path: Return of the Beasts

Chapter 12

For the fourth time since they’d left Bagadat, Fannad cursed whatever seed had given birth to the madman the High King had sent through the mage council’s portal but a few nights ago. At first he thought he would be just another tag along mage, but Hale had his hackles up the moment he stepped onto the desert sands. It had taken him one night to have half the battalion spooked with his ravings of their impending doom. Empire soldiers with their knees quaking after a few man’s delusional words. The army must be breeding them soft these days.

The hot desert sun bore down on him with its radiating fire that drew every drop of moisture it touched as he followed battalion he had been given command over. They numbered just over four hundred, but in Fannad’s mind they were worth only half that number.

Within a day of their march they had begun to slouch, mumbling their complaints to each other as they struggled to keep the pace set by Brave, Balin and the others. Fannad noticed Pin making his way past the marching soldiers, and he noted an unusual quickness in the young soldier’s steps. So, swift has found something.  

“Report soldier,” he grunted as Pin drew closer.

“It’s not good One Eye,” he began.

“That’s Sir to you boy,” Fannad growled.

“Ahh, yes Sir, of course Sir, whatever you say Sir.” Pin’s over-exaggerated salute was far more irritating than his reply.

“Don’t be a wise ass, what did Swift find?” Fannad snapped, resisting the urge to crack the cadet in the jaw. Cadet, the boy has seen more than twenty five winters, can we truly keep treating him like a child.

“Nothing Sir, and when I mean nothing, I mean not even a stitch of tent. He mentioned something about Hale’s storm covering the entire village. Thing is, we could be walking over those creatures bones right now.”

“Great, that’s just what we need, another ambush.” Fannad sighed. Go to the village, investigate the attack and find the necromancer. All orders from then High King, and all of them, they weren’t trained for. What exactly was the High King thinking? Fannad desperately prayed that the High King had hidden a tooth within their spineless battalion, someone with the skills to help them with their mission.

As if on call, Fannad saw soldiers spill out from their ranks on all sides as if a sudden explosion had turned them into a sea of bodies. An ear piercing scream ripped through the air, sending a cold shiver down Fannad’s spine despite the desert’s heat.

Pushing his way through bodies with his sword drawn, Fannad stumbled into the clearing and looked down upon a single man on his knees, body arched, and head thrown back releasing a scream that had chilled his heart. Fannad felt his blood boil at the sight, and before he knew what he was doing he had the man’s hair gripped in his fist with his sword laid lightly over the man’s throat. The man’s eye’s opened and met Fannad’s cold gaze, cutting his scream short as recognition dawned on him.

“Did you foresee your death Prophet?” Fannad growled as he tugged on his mangled black hair just to drive home his point. Fannad looked into the man’s wide eyes. They were filled with an uncontrolled fear, and it wasn’t fear of Fannad. The realisation created a cold slice of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach like a piercing dagger.

“Speak!” Fannad screamed as he shook the man like a rag doll, his knife biting the bare skin of his neck, drawing blood that trickled down the side of the prophet’s neck.

A single, raised finger from the prophet brought the man a moment of relief as Fannad shoved him into the hot desert sands. The prophet, sprawled head first in the sand, began digging like a crazed maniac.