[Luke]

In the morning, we bid the grateful family farewell. Our pack horse was heaped with supplies to which they refused any offer of payment. With the new day's sun casting shadows forward, we set off to an uncertain future.

"You were amazing, Psalm," I said as we rode along, "the way you saved that family."

"It did my heart good to help," she replied as a shy smile emerged on her face. "I am renewed."

No doubt, the good food and the comfortable bed the family provided played a part, too. Last night, Psalm was exhausted and fell asleep instantly within my arms. Hardly a week had passed since I met this wonderful woman in a rowdy tavern, and yet I can no longer imagine being without her.

"And almost as important," Psalm added, "I undid Naamah's spells. That might serve us well."

Conflict brewed in my mind. When Psalm nestled within my arms, I was home, a comforting place where my soul found refuge. Yet, more carnal desires stirred deep within me, and in unguarded moments, my mind drifted there. Given our situation and Psalm's inherent innocence, was that inappropriate? And with her ability to read souls, did she know?

A part of me wished to whisk Psalm far away, to have her for myself, and let the world be damned. But many would suffer Naamah's wrath, including both our families. Neither Psalm or I would abide that, and still, Naamah would eventually find us. So, despite the uneasiness that churned in my mind, our path was set.

"You are not yet ready to face Naamah, Psalm." The words blurted out harsher than intended. But would she ever be ready? "You must master the flow of magic."

Psalm blew out a breath and firmed her lips to a resolute line. "And so I shall, because I must."

Closing her eyes, Psalm stilled as her horse continued to plod along in cadence. Within moments, a multitude of tiny magical fireflies appeared around us, trailing tiny blue sparks while they danced and buzzed about. As she spread her arms, the swarm expanded. Shadow took notice, pulling his ears back, then with a series of yips, playfully chased and jumped after them.

Psalm smiled, and upon lifting her arms, raised the fireflies above the fox's reach. "Oh, Shadow," she muttered. "They are not for your amusement."

I let out a laugh, but also took a measure of confidence at her improved skill. "The magic heeds your call, Psalm." But I also knew that as an oracle, she could not wield it as a weapon like a mage.

"The magic..." Psalm said with an airy gasp. "It is exhilarating."

*****

Over the next two days, Psalm continued to amaze me with her magic manipulations. The visual artistry had a serious aspect, though, as she worked to concentrate magical potential energy in one area while depleting it in another.

The landscape became drier as we descended in elevation, transitioning from forests to scrubby grasslands. Thorny trees huddled in washes and low-lying areas where meager rainfall might collect. By no coincidence, the road followed a lazy river that flowed down from the northern mountains, carving a sandy, willow-lined path through a wide valley flanked by red-rock cliffs. Much to Shadow's delight, the desert rats were plentiful, mainly coming out at night. Several times we awoke to the fox's scampers and growls as he pounced under a full moon.

The next afternoon, a small town came into view perched on a flat rise above the river, high enough, presumably, to avoid the spring floods. Lazy smoke rose from some chimneys of adobe-style buildings. Near the outskirts, after climbing winding rocky switchbacks, I pulled the reins back sharply, causing the horse to whinny and prance backwards. Psalm stifled a gasp with her hand.

A body laid face down in a dry drainage channel alongside the road. The dark-haired man wore the blue uniform of the king's army, but stained with dried blood from a wide gash in his side.

My heart raced and my senses primed as I jumped from the saddle and drew my long-knife. Spinning around, I checked for immediate signs of danger, but found none. Upon coming closer to the body, the stench of death choked me. Swarms of black flies circled around. Shadow sniffed the air, but would not approach.

I turned to Psalm, and said, "At least two days ago, maybe more."

Upon climbing the rocky ditch embankment, I spotted at least a dozen more bodies lying within an orchard, each having suffered similar violent deaths. Most were soldiers, but some wore typical workers' clothing, likely local people who joined the fight. But four other bodies that festered in the sun were not human, rather Naamah's monstrous chort.

Holding my breath, I plucked the tarnished sword from a soldier's stiff hand and pulled the scabbard from his waist. And from another soldier, took a quiver of arrows. I might need these.

"There are more dead," I told Psalm, upon returning. "Apparently, they made a stand here and lost." After fastening the sword and scabbard to my waist, and adding the arrows to my quiver, I presented my long-knife and sheath to her. "Here, carry this with you." When she hesitated with a drawn breath, I added, "Just in case."

I did not give voice to something else that concerned me. Logan's army were a proud lot — they did not leave anyone behind, not like this. Unless they were in full retreat.

"We walk our horses from here," I said in an even voice, then offered my hand to help Psalm dismount.

My nerves set on edge as we entered the town in silence save for the horse clops. More bodies were strewn haphazardly on the dusty road or within low rock-walled gardens that surrounded the houses.

Psalm walked with a stiffness, otherwise showing no outward distress. But the death in this place must shadow her soul as it did mine.

She suddenly stopped and froze. "Some are alive here. I see their souls."

We came to a central square shaded by tall, sprawling trees and surrounded by shops and merchant stalls marked with colorful banners. This area must have been a vibrant marketplace in normal times.

Yet strangely, several people slowly milled about with heads bowed passively. A woman in a tan dress and head covering walked past us, hardly noticing our presence. Could they not know of the slaughter that took place?

As I furrowed my brow, Psalm explained, "Naamah subdued their minds. I must free them."

"No, Psalm," I responded, shaking my head. "We must leave. It is too dangerous to stay."

Psalm's face shot around and her jaw dropped. "Luke, we cannot abandon them!"

I placed my hands on her shoulders. "I know you mean well, Psalm. But there are at least two dozen people here, and likely scores more elsewhere. Do you have the strength? And each day we delay, Naamah threatens more communities, maybe even your own." The words soured in my gut. Only now did I realize the hard choices that my older brother must make as king. "I am sorry."

Psalm's cloudy eyes moistened and she trembled. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but said nothing. This had to be difficult for such a compassionate woman.

"Once we stop Naamah, we will come back for these people and all others," I added.

But guilt shaded my soul. I had said 'we', but in reality, the burden mainly fell on Psalm's shoulders. And there was no guarantee that she will succeed.

A growling roar made us both flinch, and we turned around to find two chort glaring with blazing red eyes full of malevolence. Standing within the central square, one gripped a hammer-like maul, while the other held a tarnished battleaxe. They were naked apart from patchy, thick dark fur. The other people, those in Naamah's thrall, carried on as before, seemingly oblivious to the monsters.

With another roar, the chort charged, loping along on thick legs.

"Stay behind me!" I ordered Psalm as I snatched my bow and an arrow from my saddle.

My heart pounded as I took quick aim and let fly the arrow, striking one chort in the chest. The monster collapsed, stirring up dust as it writhed. The other continued its attack, now ten paces away. I had no time to notch another arrow, so I threw the bow down and drew the borrowed sword.

The beast snarled as it swung the maul down, barely missing me as I jumped aside, then thumping hard on the ground. I swung my sword, although unbalanced on my feet, and managed to slice across its massive arm. The chort roared with indignation.

It swung the maul again and I blocked with the sword, but the sheer force shoved me backwards onto my arse and knocked the sword from my hand. Dazed, I became vulnerable, but Shadow came to my aide, growling and nipping at the chort's clawed feet.

Confused by Shadow's harassment, the monster paused for a second, then lifted a stout foot, attempting to smash the offending fox. But Shadow was too quick, darting back and forth to avoid the stomps.

Then, to my horror, the chort turned to Psalm, raising the maul to strike as she backed up, her mouth forming a silent scream.

"No!" I yelled.

But the monster hesitated, letting Psalm back away. Naamah must have imprinted her army not to harm Psalm. I dove toward my sword and snatched it from the dust, then still on my knees, swung low, cutting across the chort's calf muscle.

The chort staggered with another roar from a tusked mouth, and turned its focus back to me. I jumped up to again block a maul swing. My sword blade snapped in two, and again, the force threw me to the ground.

The beast swung again. Completely on the defensive, I rolled left, and the maul pounded the ground to my right, then rolled right, avoiding a strike to my left. I crab-walked backwards, but found my path blocked by a store front wall. The chort had me cornered.

"Psalm, get away from here!" I yelled.

As the chort, snarled and raised the maul for a final killing blow, I said a silent prayer of protection for Psalm.

But with a grunt and a jerk, the chort halted and dropped the maul. It landed on the dusty ground with a thump. The monster spun around to reveal my long-knife buried to the hilt in its back, and Psalm backing away, hands in front of a terrified face.

Taking the opportunity, I jumped up and slashed the half-broken blade of my sword across the chort's neck. Thick, dark blood pulsed out. The monster crumbled to the ground, forever stilled.

Breathing in deep gasps, I bent over and dropped the shattered sword. Psalm froze, her mouth agape, then wrapped arms around herself, her lips quivering. I rushed over and drew her within my arms, and she trembled against my chest.

"My dear Psalm," I whispered while stroking her hair, "you were beyond brave and I thank you. But let us depart quickly from this town lest more chort appear."

Pulling back, Psalm wiped water from her eyes and nodded. After I yanked my long-knife from the dead chort's back, we mounted our horses and galloped away. Shadow ran alongside as we weaved between houses. Within minutes, we reached the town's eastern edge, then slowed our horses to a walk lest we overtire them.

More bodies littered the way, either at road edge or within scrubby brush leading down to the river. My heart sank further — so much death. But one body stood out, cloaked in a purple cape and surround by others. My limbs prickled as dread overcame me. It can't be...

Jumping from my horse, I ran to the face-down body and, holding my breath, tentatively rolled it over to confirm my worst fear.

"No," I cried, dropping my head. "Logan. No..."

A choked sob escaped my lips and tears dripped to the sand. My hands balled into tight fists as countless discordant emotions flooded my mind, competing for prominence — shock, grief, rage, sadness, fear, hopelessness, remorse, despair, and finally, confusion. The king was dead and his army scattered in apparent defeat. What should I do now?

Psalm came up beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder while leaning her head against mine. "I am sorry, Luke," she whispered. "This pain, I know well."

I shouldn't leave my brother's body here like this, yet we couldn't linger longer. Unfastening his purple cape, I draped it over his upturned face. Then, I took up his sword, not only a weapon but a representation of the Muirea Realm. The blade gleamed in the afternoon sun, except where smeared with dark chort blood, and the jeweled handle pulled down on my hand with the weight of unwanted responsibility.

Standing, I attached the decorated scabbard to my waist, and the sword hissed as I sheathed it. Gazing down at Logan, I made a promise with a whisper. "Justice shall be done, brother."

Psalm leaned in and embraced me, providing a compassionate comfort that only she could give.

"Logan has no heirs," I said to her and the world. "By the rights of succession, I am now king."