Chains of Blood by M L Spencer

Author:M L Spencer [Spencer, M L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780999782583
Publisher: Stoneguard Publications
Published: 2019-10-30T22:00:00+00:00

25

The Lonesome Ghosts

Rylan stared back across the pockmarked plain the way they had come. He could only see the area right around them; after that, the gases thickened and became opaque. He saw nothing moving in the fog… until he did. In the distance, ghostly shapes manifested within the clouds of roving mist and angled toward them, their images blurry as if distorted by waves of heat.

“What do they want?” he asked. Whoever they were, they had seen them and were headed in their direction.

Xiana took a step backward, her expression suddenly fearful. “They’re territorial,” she whispered. “They protect their salt mines.”

Which meant they probably wouldn’t hesitate before killing two outsiders who had strayed into their territory.

“Come on,” Rylan growled, bending to pick up his packs. “You’d better start praying, because they look like they know this place a lot better than we do.” With that, he looked down and made a guess, choosing between two paths that led deeper into the fog, away from the approaching people. He caught Xiana’s hand and led her after him, picking his way carefully around the margin of a pool, his feet crunching deep into brittle layers of salt.

On the other side of the pool, the gases in the air thickened again. From behind them came another mournful cry. Rylan quickened his pace, his eyes blurry with tears clawed from his eyes by the caustic fumes. He had a terribly sour taste in his mouth. He brought his arm up to his face and coughed, the action stinging his throat worse.

“This isn’t working,” he said hoarsely.

He could feel himself starting to panic. Pulling Xiana forward by her hand, he randomly chose a different path. Very quickly, it became apparent that it was the wrong choice. The air was scalding. Rylan hurried around the edge of the nearest pool, searching for a break in the mist. He didn’t see one. Choking, he scrambled over salt-crusted hummocks and climbed onto a ridge that ran between pools.

Xiana staggered and fell to her knees, wracked in dry coughs.

Rylan glanced behind and saw the figures moving after them through the fog, much closer now than they had been before. He caught Xiana under her arm and pulled her to her feet, then struggled forward, supporting her weight. Leaning into him, she coughed into his shirt.

“You must find a path,” she whispered, her voice raw and weak.

Gripping her around the waist, he pulled Xiana along with him. Together, they wound their way around green pools until they arrived at a narrow, ribboning salt path. The air there was clean. Xiana collapsed against him, wheezing and gasping. Rylan sank to his knees, desperate to catch his breath. The acid in the air had scorched his throat raw. He could hardly see through the tears in his eyes.

There was a crunching noise behind them.

Startled, he surged to his feet and turned to find a man holding a spear standing at the edge of the pool behind them. The man was wrapped in gauzy cloth, almost like a shroud.

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