“All in all,” Galdar growled in an undertone to Captain Samuval, who stood gasping for breath beside him, “Given a choice between walking into that shield and facing ogres, I think I’d take the ogres. At least then you know what you’re up against.”
“You said a true word there, friend,” Captain Samuval agreed when he had recaptured some of his breath and had enough left over to use for speech. “This place has an uncanny feel to it.”
He nodded his head in the direction of the shimmering air.
“Whatever we’re going to do, we’d best be doing it soon. We may have slowed the ogres down a bit but they’ll catch up with us fast enough.”
“By morning, I’d say,” Galdar agreed, slumping to the ground. He lay on his back. He had never been so tired in all his life. “I know ogre raiding parties. Looting the wagons and butchering our men will occupy them for a while, but they’ll be looking for more sport and more loot. They’re on our trail right now. I’ll bet money on it.”
“And us too goddamn worn out to go anywhere, even if we had anywhere to go,” Captain Samuval said, dropping wearily down alongside him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have energy enough to lift my hand to brush away a gnat much less attack some blamed magical shield.”
He cast a sidelong glance at Mina, who alone of all her army remained on her feet. She stood staring intently at the shield, or at least in the direction of the shield, for night was closing upon them fast, and its distortion could no longer be easily detected.
“I think this ends it, my friend,” Captain Samuval said in a low voice to the minotaur. “We cannot get inside the magic of the shield. The ogres will catch us here in the morning. Ogres at our rear. The shield to our front; Us caught between. All that mad dash for naught.”
Galdar didn’t reply. He had not lost faith, though he was too tired to argue. Mina had a plan. She would not lead them into a blind alley to be caught and slaughtered by ogres. He didn’t know what her plan might be, but he had seen enough of her and enough of the power of her God that he now believed her capable of doing the impossible.
Mina shoved her way through the gray and lifeless trees, walked toward the shield. Dead limbs fell around her. Dead, dry leaves crackled beneath her boots. Dust like ashes sifted down upon her shoulders and covered her shaved head with a pearl gray mantle. She walked until she could go no farther. She came up against an invisible wall.
Mina reached out her hand, pushed at the shield, and it seemed to Galdar that the insubstantial oily soap bubble must give way.
She drew back her hand swiftly, as if she had touched a thistle and been stung. Galdar thought he saw a tiny ripple in the shield, but that might have been his imagination. Drawing her morning star, Mina struck it against the shield. The morning star fell from her hand, jarred out of her grasp by the blow. Shrugging, she bent down to pick up her weapon. Reports confirmed, she turned and made her way back through the forest of death to her command.
“What are your orders, Mina?” Galdar asked.
She looked around her army that lay scattered over the gray ground like so many corpses.
“The men have done well,” she said. “They are exhausted. We will make camp here. This is close enough, I think,” she added, looking back at the shield. “Yes, this should be close enough.”
Galdar didn’t ask, “Close enough for what?” He didn’t have the energy. He staggered to his feet. “I’ll go set the watch—”
“No,” Mina countered. She laid her hand on his shoulder. “We will not set a watch this night. Everyone will sleep.”
“Not set a watch!” Galdar protested. “But, Mina, the ogres are in pursuit—”
“They will be on us by morning,” she said. “The men should eat if they are hungry and then they must sleep.”
Eat what? Galdar wondered. Their food was now filling the bellies of the ogres. Those who had started out on that mad run carrying packs had long ago dropped them by the side of the road. He knew better than to question her.
Assembling the officers, he relayed Mina’s orders. To Galdar’s surprise, there was little protest or argument. The men were too tired. They didn’t care anymore. As one soldier said, setting a watch wouldn’t do much good anyhow. They’d all wake soon enough when the ogres arrived. Wake up in time to die.
Galdar’s stomach rumbled, but he was too tired to go searching for food. He would not eat anything from this accursed forest, that much was certain. He wondered if the magic that had sucked the life from the trees would do the same for them in the night.
He pictured the ogres arriving tomorrow morning to find nothing but desiccated husks. The thought brought a smile to his lips.
The night was dark as death. Tangled in the black branches of the skeleton trees, the stars looked small and meager. Galdar was too stupid with fatigue to remember if the moon would rise this night or not. He hoped it wouldn’t. The less he saw of this ghastly forest, the better. He stumbled over limp bodies as he walked. A few groaned, and a few cursed him, and that was the only way he knew they were alive.
He returned to the place he had left Mina, but she was not there. He could not find her in the darkness, and his heart spasmed with a nameless fear, the fear a child feels on finding himself lost and alone in the night. He dare not call. The silence was a temple silence, had an awful quality he did not want to disturb. But he had to find her.
“Mina!” he hissed in a penetrating whisper.
“Here, Galdar,” she replied.
He circled around a stand of dead trees, found her cradled in a severed arm that had fallen from an enormous oak. Her face glimmered pale, more luminous than the moonlight and he wondered that he could have missed her.
He made his report. “Four hundred and fifty men, Mina,” he said. He staggered as he spoke.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
“Thirty left behind with the wagons. Twenty more fallen on the road. Some of those may catch up, if the ogres don’t find them first.”
She nodded silently. Galdar eased himself to the ground. His muscles ached. He would be sore and stiff tomorrow, and he wouldn’t be the only one.
“Everyone’s bedded down.” He gave a cavernous yawn.
“You should sleep, too, Galdar.”
“What about you?”
“I am wakeful. I will sit up for awhile. Not long. Don’t worry about me.”
He settled himself at her feet, his head pillowed on a pile of dead leaves that crackled every time he moved. During that hellish run, all he had been able to think about had been the blessed night when he would be able to lie down, to rest, to sleep. He stretched his limbs, closed his eyes, and saw the trail at his feet.
The trail went on and on into forever. He ran and ran, and forever moved farther away from him. The trail undulated, twisted, wrapped around his legs like a snake. Tripped him, sent him plunging head first into a river of blood.
Galdar woke with a hoarse cry and a start.
“What is it?” Mina was still seated on the log. She hadn’t moved.
“That damned run!” Galdar swore. “I see the road in my dreams! I can’t sleep. It’s no use.”
He wasn’t the only one. All around him came the sounds of breathing—heavy, panting—restless shifting, groans and coughs and whispers of fear, loss, despair. Mina listened, shook her head, and sighed.
“Lie down, Galdar,” she said. “Lie down and I will sing you a lullaby. Then you will sleep.”
“Mina...” Embarrassed for her, Galdar cleared his throat. “There is no need for that. I’m not a child.”
“You are a child, Galdar,” she said softly. “We are all children. Children of the One God. Lie down. Close your eyes.”