What the hell was I thinking? There I was, flat on my stomach in the dirt, pebbles digging into my cheek, stuck in the middle of a gaggle of sobbing zombies.
Yet, only moments before I had been back in Scotland, free of that damned cell, with Karla at my side. I could still feel the press of her palm on my back, her fingers squeezing my upper arm, supporting me as we limped towards freedom. And I had tossed it all away. For what?
Some weird, irrational sense of panic had come over me, an irrepressible sense of unfinished business. It had driven me back to the Liminality, but the anxiety was totally gone now, having vanished the instant I crossed over. I was left with the lingering ghosts of pain and regret.
Urszula huddled with Trisk and Mr. O, dismounted alongside their mantids. The Old Ones were forming up in two columns along the road. From the looks of it, they were getting ready to go after Frelsi.
What a sorry lot they were, all slumped and hunched and coughing and sputtering. Swarms of bees tended to them, struggling to reconstitute them to their full vigor. But I knew from Mr. O’s experience that it wouldn’t take much of that bee juice to make them formidable.
So why was I even here? They seemed to have enough mummies to stage a decent raid. What use did they have for a guy with a sword he could barely lift, whose spells fizzled out as often as not?
I writhed on the ground, wallowing in my stupidity. I should have stayed back with Karla. What an idiot I was.
At least there was a bright side. I was out of that cell. My body was in good hands. My friends would see that I got medical attention and soon.
Urszula spotted me and came bustling over, her eyes wide.
“You are back? So soon?”
I rose up on my knees and shrugged.
She extended her hand. “Come. We are about to move on Frelsi.”
“Nah. You guys go ahead. I’m not much use to you all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know you have special skills. You are special.”
“Oh Jeez.” I looked away.
She helped me to my feet. A real smile, unmistakable as such, now graced her lips.
“You have awakened more than fifty souls. I count thirty-six willing and able to fight. Those too weak, we will leave to protect our rear, if they feel inclined.”
We walked down a gauntlet of trembling, hacking, wobbling Old Ones. They carried a pathetic array of weaponry: gnarled branches, shovel handles, stiff reeds plucked from the roadside ditch. Of course they were just conduits for their spell craft, though it seemed a bit much to call them scepters.
The roadside looked like the aftermath of a fire drill in a nursing home. To be fair, these folks looked more weathered than elderly. Some did seem quite frail, despite the steady ministrations of the bees. A strong breeze might have been enough to knock them over.
I scanned the ground where I had lain. “Have you seen my sword?”
With a zing of steel, Urszula slid it free from a harness strapped to her back. “Don’t worry. I did not steal it. I was just keeping it safe for you. I didn’t expect you back … so soon.”
We strolled between Trisk and Mr. O, now astride their mantids, to the head of the column.
I looked around for her dragonfly. “Where’s … Lalibela?”
She pointed into the sky over the valley, which was thick with dodging, dog fighting winged creatures. “Patrolling. You and I will go with the Old Ones … on foot.”
