“That’s what I don’t trust,” Curran said.
“Stand behind me if need be,” Hagkun offered. “Let’s go.”
They picked the nearest street and started down it. The buildings were close together, some leaning forward so far that they almost formed an archway overhead. Most were at least partially destroyed; rubble leaked into the roadway from open doorways. Oddly, many of the upper windows were sealed off with wood or masonry. Here and there a building had completely disintegrated, only floors or marks on the structures flanking them showing that anything had once stood. The soldiers looked into some they were all the same: empty, long since abandoned.
In the fifth one, they found bones.
“Human, do you think?” Curran asked.
Avra shouldered past the others and picked a skull from a pile of browned bones. It was rounded, with a slight forward thrust at the jaw and sharp canine teeth. “Looks human. More or less.” With his left hand, he shook it at the others and spoke in a deep, threatening voice. “You’ve come for my treasure, haven’t you? Dogs! I’ll have your filthy hides!”
“Put it down, Avra,” Shen’ti said. “Don’t dishonor the dead.”
“These dead have been buried so long, they’re probably glad for a little attention,” Avra replied. He put the skull back anyway—truth was handling the thing had been a little disturbing. He didn’t know for sure how old these ruins were or what fate had befallen the city’s residents, but judging from this bone-filled room, at least a dozen of them had met their end right here.
When he left the building behind and felt the warmth of Athas’s afternoon sun on his shoulders once more, he couldn’t hold back a shiver of relief.
After that, they started finding skeletons on a regular basis. Not just human ones, but those of other beasts as well. Some looked familiar, as if they had belonged to beetles or bears or kanks or various sorts of lizards, but none exactly resembled their modern counterparts.
He was starting to agree with Burek and Curran—that they ought not to be there, and would do well to be far away by the time the two moons rose.
And that was before they met the sand howlers.
They were crossing a narrow side street when the shadows down the block seemed to ripple. “What’s that?” Shen’ti asked.
“A cloud across the sun?” Maron offered.
“There’s no sun down there,” Shen’ti said pointedly. He paused and drew his bone dagger from the sheath on his belt. “Something’s moving.”
He barely got the words out before the pack separated from the shadows and streaked across the cluttered roadway toward them. There were a dozen of them, the size of large dogs, their big oval heads crowded with eyes. Their fur was dark brown and black, and yellow tusks jutted up from slavering lower jaws. One of the creatures loosed a howl as they came.
“Sand howlers!” Hagkun shouted. “Don’t look into their eyes, and fill your hands!”
Avra hadn’t let go of his sword since the battle against the raiders. It might as well have grown into his right fist, which at this moment he wouldn’t have minded. The soldiers took a step back, but then heard growls and running footfalls from the side street’s other direction. The only paths open were straight ahead or back the way they had come—but there was no time for retreat, and little space with the six of them crowded into a cramped, rubble-strewn roadway.
The first howler met its end on the twin crescent blades of Hagkun’s lotulis; the animal leapt, Hagkun dropped to a crouch and thrust the weapon at the thing’s underside. Its own momentum forced it down onto the blades, its oversized head snapping and gnashing until it finally died. Avra swung his sword with a mighty grunt as one of the howlers charged him, and the blade crushed the beast’s skull, dropping the beast at his feet. The animals had a sharp, musky scent that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Behind him, a pair tore past Burek’s defenses. Avra heard a piercing scream and the snarl of a canine with flesh in its grasp. He spun around to find Curran in his way, armed only with a dagger. Curran thrust it forward but a howler snapped with its huge maw, and one of those tusks jutted through Curran’s arm. Curran went white and let out a howl of his own.
The scene became a confused blur of fur and fangs, blood and blades. Three more howlers fell quickly, but not before tearing out Maron’s throat. The others bunched up and retreated—Curran taking shaky steps, blood gushing from his ravaged arm—holding off the advancing sand howlers. Shen’ti had snatched up Burek’s trikal—a tusk grazing his arm as he reached for it—and its long shaft gave him greater advantage than his dagger had.
The creatures nipped at them, herding them back down the road but keeping a safe distance. Avra started to believe they might escape with their lives, although he doubted Curran’s would last much longer, not if he couldn’t staunch the flow of blood from that arm.
But then Hagkun forgot his own warning and locked eyes with one of the howlers. Its eight eyes bored into his two, paralyzing him. “Hagkun!” Avra shouted, shaking the mul. “Keep moving!”
No use. Hagkun was a fleshy statue, yielding but immobile. Had they been able to carry him, they might have saved him yet. But they needed their hands free for weapons.
“Hagkun!” Avra screamed once more, right into the mul’s ear. Hagkun, already lost, didn’t answer.
Avra had barely taken a step back when two of the howlers lunged for his throat.
One of them sank its teeth into Hagkun’s flesh, breaking the paralysis but too late for Hagkun to fight back, time only for the mul to writhe in agony as the beasts took him down. Avra struck at one, carving a deep gash in the top of its head, and then Shen’ti was pulling on him. “Now, Avra, while they’re engaged!” he shouted.
Avra hated to leave his friend, but couldn’t deny the sense in Shen’ti’s desperate words. The big mul partially blocked the roadway, and the howlers feasting on him filled the space even more. Other howlers paced behind them, wanting either to get at the remaining humans or take a turn at the mul. Behind them, more were still tearing off bits of Maron and Burek.
The three remaining soldiers had a moment’s grace period, in which they might yet escape. Only a fool wouldn’t take it, and Avra was no fool. He grabbed Hagkun’s lotulis, gripping it in his left hand and the agafari sword in his right, and ran.
Shen’ti led the way. Instead of going back to the wide avenue, and the desert beyond, between ragged breaths he huffed out his belief that the howlers would surely catch them on open ground, and their best bet was to hole up somewhere in the city until they were gone. Avra didn’t argue—he didn’t know which course of action made the most sense, only knew that getting out of the howlers’ sight seemed like an excellent idea.
They had to help Curran from time to time, but a few minutes later they had taken refuge on the third floor of what must once have been a luxurious home. The rooms were big, with vaulting ceilings and fine tiles on the floor. Arched windows looked out over the buildings directly opposite toward the desert. The sun had continued to descend, and shadows stretched far across the sandy wasteland.
Shen’ti gazed out one of the windows. “Even if they follow,” he said, “they can’t jump this high. And if they try to come up the stairs we can pick them off one or two at a time.”
“But how long can we take refuge here?” Avra asked. “You have a little water, but not enough to last long. We’ll need to eat. Unless you propose we hunt down one of those howlers for food. I think I’d as soon eat my own foot.” He glanced at Curran, face drawn and pale, cradling his ruined arm, and regretted his words.