These Old Bones

16-2

A strange sound echoed around the clearing, as if a hundred of the Spore Bearers hissed as one, yet, still none of the creatures passed the barrier. Tiera shook her head, telling him nothing changed. Once again, he flexed his hand, the fingers too stiff to hold the sword tight enough. Raising Notch, he pulled back his arm and swung towards the trumpet flute. It wouldn't cause much damage, he only wanted to know what would happen. The hissing rose in volume and, even from a distance, he saw the creatures back away from the edge of the clearing. He stopped his swing before hitting the flute.

"Why did you stop, old man? It made them go away. Break it!" The girl, regaining her composure moved towards him, stopped by an outstretched hand.

"The threat made them back away. We don't know what they'd do if I broke the flute." He searched around, looking for something he could use.

"We can't just stay here, Grey. They're staying away now, but we don't have enough food to wait them out." Tiera moved towards the girl, pulling her close once more. "There's something intelligent about them, about all this. Can that be used to get us out of here?"

"That's what I'm working on." He found what he searched for. A piece of wood, a branch, almost dry around two-and-half-feet long. He pulled it from the ground, wiping the most dry end with his hand. "Who's got some dry cloth in their pack? And I'll need your lantern, girl."

Tiera shrugged off her pack, dug inside and pulled out a spare set of underclothes. She tossed them to him and he didn't have time to feel embarrassed about handling them. The girl removed her lantern from her pack, unused since she bought them all those days ago. From his own pack, he pulled the lantern the girl bought him.

Tying the underclothes around the end of the branch, he then poured the oil from his lantern onto the cloth, tossing the lantern aside, much to the chagrin of the girl. He didn't have time for her to feel hurt about the way he treated her gift. As he worked, he caught a glimpse of the fog barrier shifting. It revealed the Spore Bearers, but also the appearance of a steep banking. Their way out. He held that direction in his mind.

"You're going to burn our way out?" He urged Tiera and the girl to stand closer to him as she spoke, handing the makeshift torch to the Pony Rider.

"I'm negotiating." Taking his flint and steel from a pouch in his pocket, he held Notch under his armpit and began striking for sparks. After several tries, the torch sprang into life, the warmth from the flames feeling better than breathing right now. "Your lantern, girl."

The girl handed him her lantern, almost looking sorry as she had an idea she would never see it again. Brorzjav didn't understand that. Things were things. He could understand becoming attached to weapons, or keepsakes, mementos of people and places. But a lantern was a lantern, not something to sulk over.

He poured the oil over the base of writhing corpses, tossing some onto the flute itself. He made certain every last drop of oil fell onto the mound, watching the movements beyond the fog barrier, then tossed the empty lantern atop the corpses. He held the lit torch high in the air, parading around the mound, showing all the Spore Bearers the new weapon he held.

"Now, I don't know if any of you things can hear me, let alone understand me." He shouted as he moved around the mound, returning to where the girl and Tiera stood. "But, you better believe that I'm willing to burn this mound of yours. All we want is to leave. We leave, nothing burns. Understand?"

To make his point, he brought the burning torch close to the trumpet flute. The flute still poured fog high up into the air. Brorzjav then moved in the direction he saw the slope, pointing the torch that way, then turned, pointing the torch towards the flute once more. Each time he aimed the flaming torch at the fluted fungus, the hissing from the Spore Bearers increased. Every time he moved the torch away, the hisses lessened.