CHAPTER 22 
CHAPTER 22 Will this tundra ever end? Rachel thought to Corinne.
It’s lovely, Corinne replied. I like the foxes. And the birds. And the lack of cliffs.
You need to stop being so positive, Rachel scolded. You’re totally unrelatable. You’re going to alienate everyone.
I’m not sure anything I do will make me relatable, Corinne conveyed. I grew up in a tree deep inside of a deadly swamp. I’m an exiled princess. And I talk more with my mind than my mouth.
All the more reason to act grumpier, Rachel affirmed.
The ground here gets too muddy in some places, Corinne complained tentatively.
Very good, Rachel encouraged. That’s a start.
I can’t say I’m fond of the caribou droppings, she added.
Who can? Very relatable. And you’re right about the foxes. They couldn’t be cuter. At least when they’re not chewing on carcasses.
Rachel currently walked at the rear of the delegation, near Farfalee. Corinne was toward the front, closer to Jason. Yet they heard each other perfectly. Their mental link had been very useful back at Howling Notch. They had experimented, and the telepathy worked just fine with hundreds of yards between them. Half a mile apart required a lot of focus. Around a mile apart the communication became too faint to comprehend, like the fading memories of an elusive dream.
From behind, Rachel watched Jason hiking beside Corinne. They leaned together, sharing a laugh. Since reaching the tundra, Jason had made a noticeable effort to hang around her. The flat terrain enabled more socializing than the lofty passes. Rachel supposed it was natural. Not only was Corinne older than him and a total knockout, she also had an innocent sweetness that made her accessible. Rachel plucked a leaf from a shrub and tore it as she walked. Had Jason ever tried this conspicuously to earn her attention? Or was it only conspicuous to her? Why did she bother noticing?
Off to her right loomed the omnipresent mountains, an unbroken chain reaching from horizon to horizon. To the east, west, and north sprawled open tundra, grassy country contoured by hillocks, boulders, tussocks, and low ridges. In the wide-open terrain, almost everyone took turns scouting. As she watched, a twitchy rabbit darted from the shelter of one scraggly bush to another.
We might miss the monotonous tundra when we reach the Forsaken Kingdom, Corinne conveyed.
Nobody seems to know many details about it, Rachel replied.
Ferrin knew more than the Amar Kabal, Corinne agreed. At least he had heard rumors that the disease was transmitted by worms.
Ew, I just stepped in a squishy spot, Rachel complained. You really feel it in these moccasin boots.
Be glad it’s summer, Corinne replied. Kerick said this whole area is under ice and snow for most of the year.
We have land like this not too far from where I lived back home.
You lived in an icy place?
Sometimes. Washington was more rainy than snowy. Huge trees, lots of moss.
That I can imagine, Corinne assured her.
I bet. But not too far north from my home there were reindeer and tundra.
Do you think we’ll be attacked by the walking dead?
Rachel had been trying to avoid dwelling on it. She considered the question. We should definitely expect trouble. There has to be a reason nobody goes there. Farfalee told me a small river forms the unofficial northern border of the kingdom, and they’ve never seen the walking dead on this side of it. We shouldn’t have to worry until then.
How do you kill something that’s already dead?
Nobody knows enough about them. Ask Jason. He’ll have an opinion.
Wait a moment. Rachel could see Corinne talking to Jason, but they were too far ahead to hear. He says you chop them up into little pieces.
But what if that infects you with the disease?
Jason leaned close to answer Corinne quietly. She laughed. You let Nollin do it.
Ferrin and Nedwin were the first to spot a walking corpse. Ever since they’d lost Andrus and Delissa, Ferrin had contributed more with the scouting. A few hours after the group had forded the Agwam River, Ferrin and Nedwin returned to the delegation and reported a lone woman limping their way from the south. Rachel had felt uncomfortably alert since crossing the northern boundary of the Forsaken Kingdom. In a way, it was a relief to end the anticipation. Based on the description, the undead woman did not sound like a major threat.
“We should study her,” Drake recommended. “Approach her and see if she can listen to reason.”
“And when she attacks?” Ferrin asked.
“We see how hard she is to take down,” Drake replied. “The information could become extremely relevant.”
“The corpse is coming directly toward us?” Farfalee asked.
“She can obviously sense our presence,” Nedwin affirmed. “Despite her injured leg, she’s hurrying along a perfect line to intercept us.”
“He’s right,” Ferrin agreed.
Kerick folded his arms. “If we’ll have to face her sooner or later, might be best to get it over with, confront the abomination on our terms.”
“We must neutralize her from a distance,” Halco said. “No close combat.”
“That still may not sufficiently protect us,” Nollin cautioned. He turned to Ferrin. “How certain are you that the disease is transmitted by worms?”
“I heard a rumor. I’ve never personally been to the Forsaken Kingdom, but Maldor has long taken an interest in the plaguelands. He considers the plague the greatest potential threat to his domination of Lyrian. If it ever spread, the disease could destroy all of the kingdoms on the continent, regardless of their power or politics. Research has been quietly conducted. The rumor is probably credible.”
Nollin folded his arms. “Setting aside opinions about rumors, what I hear is that we lack certainty on the matter. This sickness obliterated a mighty realm! We know the condition to be dreadfully contagious. Mere proximity to an afflicted person might spawn infection. For the sake of the mission, some of us should keep well back.”
“Like those of us without seeds,” Aram muttered.
“We’re unsure whether the amar will be immune to the malady,” Farfalee said.
“The amar could not regenerate an undead body,” Nollin asserted. “But the amar could be incapacitated by the disease. The safest course for an infected member of the Amar Kabal would be a quick death to reduce the risk of exposing the seed.”
“What if one of the rest of us becomes infected?” Corinne asked.
A troubled silence settled over the group. Farfalee spoke. “If the disease manifests, we would need to accept that the afflicted person had become a puppet controlled by an illness.”
“How will we know if we catch it?” Rachel asked. “Or if the disease has taken hold?”
“A sudden craving for blood and brains?” Jason guessed.
The joke fell flat, earning uneasy smiles instead of laughs.
“You may not be far from the truth,” Farfalee said. “I imagine some of the symptoms will be evident. We’ll need to remain vigilant—pay attention to how we’re feeling, keep a sharp eye on one another. Nollin is right that some of us should go to extreme lengths to keep our distance from the walking dead. That core group needs to include those whose presence we most need at Mianamon, namely Corinne, Rachel, Jason, and Nollin.”
“And you, Farfalee,” Nollin added.
“Halco and I will do everything in our power to keep the key members of the delegation uncompromised,” Kerick asserted.
“Any threat to Jason will have to pass through me first,” Tark vowed.
“I am under specific orders to protect Corinne and Rachel,” Nedwin said.
“I am here to do whatever is needed,” Drake pledged.
Farfalee glanced at her brother, a flash of pain and concern in her eyes. “Unwelcome as such a discussion may be, it does provide a practical hierarchy.”
“What of our bold displacer?” Nollin asked.
“He wants everyone to live,” Ferrin said tactfully. “Himself included.”
“Same with the smuggler,” Aram inserted.
“I believe we all understand what needs to happen,” Farfalee said. “Five of us have pledged to help ensure the survival of the others by any means necessary. But of course I want all of us to survive this passage through the Forsaken Kingdom. Aside from an examination of this diseased woman, our goal will be evasion. I agree that we need to investigate the effectiveness of projectiles against her. Hopefully, these unfortunate plague victims can be slain from a distance.”
Ferrin and Nedwin led the delegation to a hilltop that offered a view of the infected woman coming toward them. It was hard to apprehend details from a distance, but she was clearly limping. Her body was emaciated, her clothes tattered, her hair matted and filthy.
The rest of the delegation waited atop the hill while Kerick and Halco advanced fifty yards down the slope. Kerick carried a bow and Halco brought a sling. As the disheveled woman drew nearer, her hasty limp became more frantic.
“Halt!” Kerick demanded in a clear voice. “We mean you no harm.”
The woman continued forward without a response.
Kerick set an arrow to his bowstring and pulled it to his cheek. “Halt or I will be forced to shoot. We only wish to converse.”
The woman rasped a moaning reply. Straining her ears and using some imagination, Rachel believed the woman might have said “need.” The woman shambled toward Kerick with desperate vigor.
Kerick put an arrow through her chest. The impact made her stumble; then she continued toward him, oblivious to the injury. Halco loosed a stone from his sling, which knocked her to the ground. Teeth bared angrily, the woman scrambled back to her feet.
“Please, halt,” Kerick demanded, retreating a few paces, his bow bent again.
She gave no response.
With rapid efficiency, Kerick began putting arrows through her head. By the third, she collapsed to the ground, finally immobile.
“Not promising,” Farfalee murmured. “At least enough arrows stopped her. The disease may control her, but it seems the commandeered body needs some brain function to stay in motion.”
“I have considerable experience handling dangerous and exotic substances,” Nedwin said. “Do you mind if I examine the corpse?”
“If you’re willing to risk the consequences,” Farfalee said.
Kerick and Halco withdrew from the fallen woman, and Nedwin approached gingerly, as if expecting that her unconsciousness might be a ruse. Eventually he crouched beside her and used a dagger to prod her in several places. With some effort, he extracted the arrows. After several minutes spent hunched over the inert form, Nedwin returned to the group.
“Worms,” Nedwin reported. “Small ones. Gray. Lots of them. No blood. Just skin, sinew, and bone. The worms were already at work repairing her injuries, knitting her flesh back together. They seemed too heavy to be transmitted through the air. I used my knife to dig out a worm. When I placed it on her arm, the little creature immediately burrowed below her skin.”
“It seems Ferrin provided accurate intelligence,” Farfalee said.
“The walking dead are vehicles governed by parasites,” Nollin said. “They aren’t people. We don’t need to show them any mercy.”
“If my corpse becomes animated by maggots,” Drake said, “please have mercy. Behead me. Burn me. Whatever it takes.”
“You didn’t even need to ask,” Halco assured him.
Rachel shivered. How would it feel to have worms tunnel into her body and assume command? How would she feel to see it happen to one of her companions? To Jason or Corinne? She might truly lose her mind.
Leaving the plague-savaged woman behind, the delegation marched southward. They passed a dilapidated village overgrown by shrubs and small trees, with most of the structures having collapsed into their foundations. Just after sunset, from a ridgetop, they glimpsed a distant city encompassed by a stone wall, its towers silent and dark in the twilight.
Kerick steered the group away from the quiet city. Rachel tried not to picture bloodthirsty zombies lurking behind those gloomy walls. She failed.
After some discussion, they made camp on high ground and lit a fire. Ferrin had insisted that the limping woman had been drawn to them by some instinct far more powerful than firelight, but hoped the flames might be used to intimidate attackers. Kerick had reasoned that while the high ground exposed them visually and allowed enemies to approach from all sides, it also enabled the group to see their enemies coming and to flee in any direction.
Rachel bedded down near Corinne and Jason. “Do you think we can outrun these things if they’re not limping?” Rachel wondered aloud.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Jason replied. “Let’s hope there’s a reason they’re not called the running dead.”
“What do you call the walking dead when you kill them?” Corinne asked.
“Morbid question,” Jason approved. “The walking deader? The no-longer-walking dead?”
“The resting dead,” Rachel said.
“Rachel wins,” Corinne decreed.
“I don’t like how that lady was coming straight at us,” Jason said. “Makes you wonder how many of them are out there right now, heading our way, walking, or limping, or dragging themselves over—”
“Enough,” Rachel said firmly. “I’m already going to have a lousy time sleeping.”
“Better to be prepared than surprised,” Jason said.
“Imagining zombies in the night doesn’t prepare us,” Rachel countered. “If we’re going to get attacked, better to rest than stay up worrying.”
As if in response to their conversation, a shape appeared out of the night at the edge of the firelight, making Rachel gasp until she recognized Nedwin. They hadn’t seen him in hours. He came and crouched beside Jason.
“You were gone a while,” Jason said.
“I don’t like this place,” Nedwin whispered. “I found some hoofprints. Feral pigs. Goats. Wild horses. I toured an abandoned town. There was evidence of other members of the walking dead. I expect we’ll see trouble tonight.”
Jason shot Rachel a significant look. “So what do we do?”
“Try to get some sleep,” Nedwin said.
Rachel shot a look back at Jason.
“I better go report to Farfalee,” Nedwin said.
“I’m not sure I can sleep,” Corinne said. “I’ve never felt so nervous! Is it like this a lot?”
“This is extra bad,” Jason said.
“Horror movie bad,” Rachel agreed.
“Horror movie?” Corinne asked.
“Scary stories we have in the Beyond,” Rachel clarified.
“With titles like Attack of the Wormy Zombies,” Jason added. “They tend to be really bloody.”
Eyes wide, Corinne sat rigidly. “How do they usually end?”
Jason and Rachel shared a knowing look.
The assault came in the deepest hours of the night. Kerick roused the group with a shouted warning. By the time Rachel was on her feet, she could hear the walking dead stumbling in the darkness. A muffled groan somewhere in the blackness made the hair on her arms stand up. Heart thudding, mind wishing she was dreaming, her first realization was that the attackers seemed to be closing in from all directions.
Clouds muted the moon and blocked much of the starlight, leaving Rachel squinting at vague shapes approaching up the hillside. Farfalee and Kerick began loosing arrows, and some of the shapes staggered. Nedwin appeared beside Rachel. “We’re surrounded,” he hissed, a dagger in each hand. “Stay near me.”
Jason drew his sword. Tark stood at his side, a weighty knife in one hand, a torch in the other.
“Plan?” Drake asked.
“They’re on all sides,” Halco answered.
“We move as a group,” Farfalee said briskly. “Break through their ranks and try to outpace them.”
“Which way?” Ferrin asked.
“Hard to say,” Kerick responded, releasing another arrow. From multiple directions, infected corpses neared the perimeter of the firelight.
“That way,” Nedwin said firmly, extending an arm. “A bit steeper, but fewer enemies.”
A husky man with curly hair lumbered into the light, moving in an awkward jog and clutching a heavy stick. One of his eyes was rolled back, showing almost no iris, and he wore no shirt. A pair of arrows to the head dropped him.
Aram brandished his massive sword. “Follow me,” he boomed. “I’ll open a path.” Bearing a sword and a torch, Ferrin advanced beside the half giant in the direction Nedwin had indicated. The group formed up around Rachel, Corinne, and Jason, weapons ready, moving away from the campfire with hurried, shuffling paces. Vicious sweeps of Aram’s sword sent enemies sailing.
Glancing back, Rachel saw figures rushing forward from the far side of the campfire. Focusing on the logs, she uttered a command that sent them flying at the undead attackers amid a fiery spray of sparks and embers. The logs launched with terrific force, some of them shattering against bodies, and the assailants recoiled from the blaze with tucked heads and upraised hands.
The use of Edomic brought a euphoric rush utterly incongruent with the fear that had been squeezing Rachel’s heart. Suddenly she felt more alert and capable. The logs had taken flight with more force than she had expected, probably because the command had been energized by her panic.
“They don’t like fire,” Ferrin called, jabbing with his torch before slashing with his sword.
Aram clubbed a sinewy woman with the flat of his sword, the impact sending her into a clumsy cartwheel. Tark swung his torch to ward off an undead teen with a bony body. Kerick released more arrows.
“Faster!” Halco warned from the rear of the group. “They’re converging on us.”
Peeking over her shoulder, Rachel saw figures hurrying jerkily toward them from all sides of the hill, adjusting their pursuit with alarming coordination. The slope had become steep enough that Rachel was descending sideways with her knees bent, the soles of her moccasins sliding on the dirt.
“Run!” Farfalee ordered.
Aram bullied his way forward even faster, a human wrecking ball who left broken zombies cast aside like groaning heaps of litter. Rachel did not know what they would have done without him to lead the charge. She picked up the pace along with the rest of the group. By the faint moonlight and the unsteady glow of three torches, they raced down the slope, Aram slamming enemies aside with his sword, Ferrin and the others doing their best to cut down the leftovers. The incline helped Rachel reach such great speed that she doubted whether she could stop herself. If she fell, it would be painfully spectacular. Around her the others ran with similar haste, weapons glinting in the torchlight.
As the incline became less steep, Rachel regained some control of her strides. Nollin had tripped on the slope, but Halco had dragged him to his feet speedily enough that the pair of seedmen had not fallen too far behind the others. For the moment the delegation had outdistanced the zombies, although Rachel could hear them crashing recklessly down the hillside.
“What now?” Kerick asked, still running as he spoke.
“Some of us could stand our ground and slow them,” Tark offered.
“Too many of them,” Farfalee said. “They’d sweep by you. The sacrifice would be meaningless.”
“Split up?” Nedwin asked.
“That attack felt planned,” Farfalee said, breathing hard. “Sloppy, but with evidence of organization. A group massed around us and came from all sides. If we split up, I expect they will adapt.”
“We need to find a narrow place,” Kerick said. “A position where a few of us might detain them.”
“I saw nothing like that in the area,” Nedwin said. “But we need to veer left up here or we’ll get boxed in by some steep terrain.”
They continued at a sprint, Aram in the front, Halco in the rear, the torches shedding just enough light to allow them to dodge natural obstacles. Behind the group, Rachel could hear their bloodless enemies crashing through bushes and stumbling over rocks. With the delegation running at full speed, the zombies were gradually losing ground. Rachel doubted whether she could sustain this pace for more than a few minutes. She assumed the walking dead could keep charging all night.
“How many were there?” Nollin asked.
“At least forty,” Farfalee said.
“At least sixty,” Nedwin corrected.
“It will be minutes before they overtake us,” Kerick asserted. “Any defensible ground up ahead?”
“A little table of rock,” Nedwin said. “Maybe twenty feet above the surrounding land. One side is rather steep; the others are sheer. If we beat them there, they’d have to climb to reach us.”
“No escape?” Aram asked.
“We’d only go there to make a stand,” Nedwin said. “The inaccessibility makes it defendable. I don’t know of a better option.”
“Lead on,” Farfalee said.
“Agreed,” Drake approved. “If we’re caught in the open, we’re finished.”
“What if a pair of us head off on our own?” Nollin proposed, panting. “A small detachment might avoid detection.”
“It’s a gamble,” Ferrin said. “If the duo gets noticed, they’ll be defenseless. Who’d you have in mind?”
“Some key delegates,” Nollin said. “Perhaps myself and Aram.”
Rachel shook her head. Evidently Nollin had noticed the critical role Aram had played during the escape.
Ferrin laughed openly. “Aram, you’ve been promoted to essential!”
“I’m generally more appreciated at night,” the big man rumbled. “I’m going to the table, Nollin.”
“Maybe we should all remain together,” Nollin repented.
“How far?” Halco asked.
“Maybe five minutes,” Nedwin said. “Beyond this next rise the ground slopes down to a dry creek bed. The little ridge is on the far side.”
They were currently running up a gentle incline. By unspoken assent, nobody was moving at a true sprint anymore. Rachel’s lungs heaved with the effort to maintain her quick jog. She could clearly hear the worm zombies in pursuit. Aside from scattered moans and snarls, most made their presence known by disturbing rocks and foliage.
“They’re gaining,” Halco pointed out.
Farfalee increased her pace, and Rachel strained to match it. A stitch burned in her side, and the muscles in her legs protested painfully.
“Some of them are faster than others,” Nedwin observed. “We’re spreading them out. Many are quite slow.”
They topped the rise and the slope tilted downward. Having the incline back in her favor helped Rachel find her second wind. “Watch out,” Aram called from the front. “Thorns!”
Rachel saw the half giant plowing through bushes that reached higher than his waist, which meant they came to her shoulders. Jason ran just ahead of her, and she could see thorny shrubs tearing at his robes as he charged between them. She tried to follow the path he was clearing, but many of the slender limbs whipped back into place after he ripped free. Her robe snagged in dozens of places. Rachel kept her weary legs churning despite the sharp prickers shredding the fabric of her robes and occasionally her skin.
Suppressed expressions of pain surrounded her, aggravated hisses seasoned with some angry growls and a wounded yelp from Corinne. Aram was trying to whack the irritating vegetation with his sword, but without accomplishing much. There were just too many shrubs with too many wiry little limbs.
“Forward!” Farfalee ordered as their pace flagged.
Rachel pressed ahead, twisting and lunging in an attempt to avoid the thickest tangles. Sharp points raked scratches across much of her body. Occasionally the thorns stabbed deep, forcing her to swallow exclamations of pain. Under the light of day, the group would have doubtlessly looped around these briars, but in the dark, pursued by undead enemies, their only choice was to push agonizingly onward.
At last Rachel tore free from the last of the taller shrubs. Off to one side, she saw Nedwin towing Corinne from a thorny embrace. Rachel realized that she, Nedwin, Halco, and Corinne were now trailing the others in the group by a significant margin. Several paces ahead, Jason and Tark skidded to a halt, looking back. Close behind her, Rachel heard reckless pursuers blundering through the prickly shrubs.
With countless prickers still clinging to her robes and needling her skin, Rachel picked up her pace again. “Go!” she shrieked at Jason.
Corinne and Nedwin raced beside her. Halco followed a step or two behind. A hasty glance back showed Rachel the first of the zombies emerging from the spiny shrubs, threadbare clothes mangled. No matter how tired she felt, the frightening sight was sufficient to spur Rachel to her fastest sprint.
Thirty yards ahead, Aram and Ferrin reached the dry creek, dropping down to the rocky bed. The moon emerged from the clouds, unveiling the stone butte on the far side of the creek, vertical walls with a flat top.
Ahead of Rachel, Jason leaped into the creek bed. The lip of the creek was maybe five feet higher than the bed. When Rachel reached the brink, she slowed a bit and used her hands to help break her fall. Rocks ranging in size from apples to melons littered the floor of the creek, making footing treacherous. But with the worm zombies at her heels, there was no time for caution.
Rachel dashed across the creek bed, a pair of steps behind Corinne and Nedwin, six steps behind Jason. Halco ran at her side, his torch casting a wavering radiance around them. She could hear enemies landing on the stones behind them.
Then a rock shifted beneath Rachel’s foot just as she trusted all of her weight to it. She fell hard, unforgiving stones pounding against her, one wrist screaming in pain after she had extended her hands to catch herself.
She was dead. The cold certainty hit her with inarguable clarity. Her injuries meant nothing. She would have no time to really feel them. Her undead enemies were right behind her. Rachel rolled over to her back in time to see the nearest zombie pouncing, grimy hands extended. He had long arms. Dark eyes. Ragged fingernails. A receding hairline.
Reflexively, Rachel raised a protective hand and shouted the Edomic command to push him away. The zombie went flying backward, like he had been hit by an invisible train. His body clipped a couple other undead assailants before he smashed against the low wall of the creek.
Invigorated by the successful command, Rachel beheld the scene with greater lucidity. More enemies were flooding toward her. There were already eight in the creek bed. A dozen more between the creek and the thorny shrubs. Dozens more crashing through the briars.
Halco was using torch and sword to engage a husky man clad in pelts. The combat drew the interest of a few of the nearest attackers. Nedwin and Jason crouched beside Rachel, having returned to help her to her feet. Drake dashed to assist Halco, sword flashing in the torchlight. Knife in hand, Tark placed himself between Rachel and the oncoming zombies.
The zombies were dead, Rachel realized. The worms inside might be alive, but apparently if she focused on the dead flesh, she could use Edomic!
As a desiccated middle-aged woman rushed Tark, Rachel focused on the upper half of her body and spoke the command to gather heat, pouring her panic-fueled will into the effort. The woman burst into flames, and Rachel spoke a fresh command that shoved her backward. Other zombies stumbled away from the blazing woman, eyes squinting away from the brightness. The woman collapsed to the ground, screeching and thrashing.
Halco and Drake had each incapacitated a pair of zombies. Currently a small elderly zombie dangled from Halco’s arm, biting his hand. Halco fell as Drake hacked at the undersized attacker. The successful commands coupled with the horrible danger left Rachel feeling abnormally alert. As more zombies charged Drake and Halco, Rachel infused the nearest pair with fire from the waist up and shoved them toward the others.
The effort left her knees weak. While her spirit exulted, her body suddenly felt drained. From her hours of practice, Rachel knew that she was making too many ambitious commands in succession without resting. She could not keep it up much longer.
Each with an arm around her torso, Nedwin and Jason hauled Rachel across the creek bed, her arms draped across their necks, her wrist aching. She tried to help, but her legs felt limp and distant.
Farther back, Drake helped Halco retreat while a fresh wave of zombies dashed forward. “Just the heads,” Rachel murmured, looking over her shoulder.
Exerting her will, she began setting the heads of the attackers on fire, one after another, working from the nearest to the farthest. The smaller targets required less effort than igniting the entire upper body, and the result seemed equally effective, leaving the victims writhing in the creek bed. After igniting the fifth head, Rachel felt blackness encroaching at the edge of her vision, and paused. She had a metallic taste in her mouth. Her head pounded.
Flaming bodies lay strewn between the zombies and their prey. The nearest zombies hesitated, baring their teeth to hiss at the fire.
“It got me,” Halco huffed to Drake, who had a supportive arm across his shoulders. “I saw worms enter my wrist. Take my amar.”
Sheathing his sword, Drake drew a dagger in one hand and cupped the other against the base of Halco’s skull, where his seed was located. Rachel glanced away as the dagger moved, but looked back in time to see Drake placing the amar in a pouch as Halco slumped to the stony ground.
Nedwin and Jason dragged Rachel up the far side of the creek bed as the undead attackers rallied, weaving between the burning corpses. The foremost zombies descended on Halco in a frenzy.
Without Halco slowing him, Drake caught up as Rachel, Tark, Nedwin, and Jason reached the base of the rocky butte. The others were already scaling it. The least steep side was still quite a climb, only leaning slightly away from vertical, although it offered abundant handholds.
“Can you manage?” Nedwin asked.
“No strength,” Rachel said. She doubted she could walk, let alone scale a steep wall. “Bad wrist.”
Aram landed beside Rachel after having dropped the last several feet of the descent. He heaved her over one beefy shoulder, as if she weighed nothing. The others were climbing. Aram started up as well.
Rachel found herself facing an onrushing mob of tattered men and women, old and young, grotesquely eager. Aram was rising, but the mob would reach the butte in time to claw at his boots, perhaps to climb after him and tear him down. She felt angry. These bloodthirsty creatures had attacked without provocation. They had killed Halco. They yearned to kill all of her friends.
Extending a hand, lips moving soundlessly, she focused heat on several in the front, then mentally pushed with all of her might, hurling her will at them with the psychic equivalent of a lunging dive at the end of a hard run. She dimly saw the flames engulfing them and felt the warm rush of heat as she sank into unconsciousness.