Smell of Death

Joree let out a breath of relief when he finally reached his house. Nothing looked damaged or destroyed. He had imagined-despite his best efforts to remain calm and collected-a thousand different terrible scenarios. Coming to find the house burned down, dismantled, or otherwise mutilated. Soldiers having taken residence, forcing his mother to sleep with the animals. Instead, everything was calm, almost serene.

“Come on,” he whispered to the Delani. He didn’t need to say it. She would follow him anyway. But sometimes he just needed to hear the sound of a human voice, even if that voice was his own.

He approached the house quietly, part of him still waiting for a trap. However, he reached the front door without any trouble. He pushed it open slowly and quietly, peeking in. Everything seemed to be in order. Nothing had been torn apart or displaced, not that there was much inside to get torn apart or displaced in the first place.

“Mom?” he called out tentatively. Silence greeted him. So he called a little louder. Still nothing. He pushed the door open wide, suddenly anxious. What if one of the soldiers had hurt her and then left her here? Or if she had simply fallen and hit her head, and no one had known to look for her?

He hurried inside, searching the small house in less than a minute. There was no sign of Narissa. He turned to the Delani, who was watching him with her blank expression and bright eyes.

“You need to wait here,” he told her. “I’m going to find my mom.” She gave no indication that she understood him. He sighed, then pointed are her. “You,” he said firmly, then pointed at the floor. “Stay here.”

As if in response, she walked over to the single chair in the living room and sat down on it. He eyed her for a moment longer before shrugging and walking out the door. Maybe his mom was out with animals. Yes, that was it. Just out with the animals.

Those thoughts did not stop the nervous knot from twisting inside his gut. He clenched his jaw and strode resolutely towards the shed housing the smaller animals. The door was shut, which meant that his mom probably wasn’t inside. She didn’t like how stale the air felt without a breeze blowing in through the door. He checked anyway.

Upon opening the door, he was hit with a putrid stench. His stomach heaved and he gagged involuntarily, taking a stumbling step backwards. What on Nakadun was that? It was far worse than the normal smells of sweaty animals or their waste. Even during molting season the shed never smelled this rank. He tried to place the smell, but had nothing to compare it to.

Squinting into the darkness, he hesitantly leaned forward, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt. Only then did he notice the other oddities, his other senses finally catching up with his nose. He could see no movement and hear no sound. The baby gibbles should be chittering, the irritable hogbleets snorting for the tiny birds to be quiet. Instead, he was met with eerie silence and complete stillness.

He cautiously stepped inside, the foul smell seeping through his shirt and into his mouth and nose. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far to see what was wrong.

All the animals lay in their pens and cages, dead.

He almost gasped, but stopped himself as that would mean opening his mouth and letting in the taste of death and rot. Small bodies were scattered across the ground, some with fur and feathers sloughing off, tiny insects crawling over and into them. Had they been attacked by a predator? But no, they didn’t look injured or mutilated. Besides, the door had been closed. That meant…these had all either died of sickness, or starved to death.

He felt a cold hand clamp over his heart. Narissa never missed a day feeding the animals. If they had starved, it meant she hadn’t been home for a very long while.

So where in Arkadia’s Flames was she?

***

Jurusi grumbled to himself as he followed the bizarre, uncanny man. Why had Jurusi been assigned this task? He followed orders, stood straight in lines, and arrived on time to drill practice. He didn’t understand why he was being punished. Surely it wasn’t simply because of that comment he had made about the Captain’s outfit. That had been many days ago, and besides, his buttons had been done up wrong. If anything, the Captain should’ve thanked Jurusi for bringing it to his attention.

Besides, why were any of them obeying this inscrutable foreigner? But the frightening figure had demanded a small entourage for a ‘brief task’, and Captain Manisutti hadn’t even batted an eye.

At first, Jurusi had been very curious as to what the mystery man needed an entourage for. Protection? That seemed unlikely. And it certainly wasn’t just for the joy of company.

But now Jurusi knew. The scrambud simply wanted a group of pack animals. Jurusi carried a bag loaded with food stuffs, the two other men pulled a sledge between them full of bedding, weapons, and other various necessities for surviving in the wild. The infested scrambud Vris character didn’t carry a single thing. Except for the terrifying weight of his oppressive presence, of course.

The four of them had been marching in a vaguely northward direction for three days now, and Vris hadn’t deemed to give them the slightest indication of what they were doing. Infested scrambud, indeed. Not that Jurusi would ever say it out loud.

Jurusi was so busy grumbling to himself that he almost ran straight into Vris as the man stopped abruptly. Jurusi’s hasty halt caused Gordelo to stumble into him.

“What the scram, you infested little-” Gordelo cut off when he noticed that Vris wasn’t moving. The three packmen fell silent, waiting tensely.

A few excruciating moments passed. The Vris turned around and started walking southward. He gave no explanation. He didn’t smile, sigh, or shrug. He just walked.

Nobody questioned him. They just followed. Jurusi did continue to curse at Vris inside his head, though.

***

Aniah drifted in a place between waking and sleeping. No, that wasn’t right. This was beyond such finite definitions of consciousness and unconsciousness. She merely existed, and time and place had no meaning. There was no light or darkness, no sound or silence. Nothingness and incredible infinite vastness at the same time. She felt no pain, nor did she feel pleasure. No fear, no joy. Pure existence, devoid of all yet encompassing all.

It slipped away from her, and she slid into an awareness of herself. A physical body, with emotions, sensations, and garish senses. The first thing she noticed was a blazing headache, followed by a fuzzy confusion as she tried to remember where she was and what was going on. Why was she so tired and dizzy? She couldn’t get her eyes to open. Her limbs were unresponsive. Light beyond her eyelids indicated that her eyes still worked, but the lids remained closed, locking her in darkness.

But that wasn’t what caused her to panic. No, the true fear set in when she realized she couldn’t sense her Will. That inner reservoir of strength that she had always relied upon was simply…gone. Not muted, not blocked, completely and utterly stripped away, leaving her mind and soul feeling hollow and empty.

Oh, gods of Arkadia, have I displeased you? she thought desperately.

Voices cut through her mind, and she latched onto them. This was something real, something tangible. They spoke in strange accents, each syllable seeming flat. The language was vaguely familiar, but it was not Manicoti. She strained to listen, fairly certain…yes, that was Kriton. Why was she with people who were speaking Kriton? Where was Joree? Had they been captured? It had probably been that Delani monster. It had turned them in.

But no, they had reached the army already, hadn’t they? Was Aniah sick? Maybe she was in the infirmary, and some of the medics were also treating wounded Kritons?

She would have laughed at the thought if she were physically able. Highness Arellia would never waste resources on a wounded enemy soldier. She wouldn’t even take the time to put them out of their misery, as time was one of the most valuable resources in her mind. You can gain back allies, trust, money, and renown. You can never gain back lost time. A lesson Arellia had repeatedly impressed into Aniah’s mind as a child, back when she’d liked to spend her time out in the gardens or spying on servants.

She forced her attention back to the present moment, refocusing on the words. She had been tutored in the basics of Kriton language, so she could make out some of the meaning. We need to wake the…what was that word? Animal, perhaps? Pet? ...dangerous, could cause (several words Aniah didn’t know)…The Highness grows…hmmm, impatient? Irritated? No, not Highness. The closer interpretation would be ‘King’.

She noticed that the voices were growing louder, and she realized she could hear footsteps. An involuntary panic rose inside her chest, and she felt her pulse quicken.

“Ah, already awake.”

The voice, male and smooth, stood very close now, near her feet. And it spoke in heavily accented Manicoti.

“No need to play dead. I can hear your irregular breathing and see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids.”

Someone else cleared their throat before speaking. This one was female. “Pardon, but she may still be incapable of moving or talking.”

“Nod if you are able,” the man said. “And, well, do not if you cannot, I suppose.” He chuckled softly.

Aniah tried to nod, but it was as if her brain had disconnected from her body.

“I see,” the man said. “We will give you some time then.”

Without further explanation, their footsteps retreated.

Aniah growled inwardly. Those velching Arkadian fiends! The worst part was, she couldn’t even curse at them out loud.

***

When Joree saw the spot where dirt paths became paved streets, his suspicions were confirmed. The roads into the city were heavily guarded by Kriton soldiers. Joree had already checked several other outlying farms and homes. Each had been empty except for the occasional scavenging creature feeding on dead livestock. It seemed the entire population had been rounded up and taken into the city where they could be contained.

Joree felt a surge of anger, partly at the Kritons, partly at Aniah, but mostly at himself. He never should have left his mother alone, no matter what anyone else told him. What did he owe Aniah or her mother? He couldn’t really even say he owed Arellia loyalty, not after what she had allowed to happen to Ranteel.

Well, that was a problem for another time. Right now, he needed to focus on getting his mother out.

A figure appeared beside him, moving so silently that he didn’t notice them until they nearly brushed his shoulder. He barely held in a yelp, leaping back and nearly punching the intruder. He stopped himself just in time, recognizing the Delani.

“Flames and Halls, girl,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

She gazed at him blankly.

“Go back,” he demanded, pointing back the way they had come. “Do you want them to capture you?”

She brushed a strand of silver hair out of her face, which was the closest thing to a reaction he had ever seen from her.

“Go,” he said more forcefully, pointing again. Slowly, languidly, she looked down the length of his arm, then out where his finger was pointing. Then she tapped her nose once and wrinkled it briefly. He frowned.

“I have no idea-”

She cut him off, grabbing the front of her shirt and pulling it up to cover her nose and mouth. He hesitated. That looked like-

“You could smell the dead animals, couldn’t you?” he asked softly. She gave no response. He sighed. “It would still be safer for you there.”

She blinked once.

He shrugged. “Fine, have it your way. We’re probably all going to die anyway.”