GREY

The Last Piece

It took them five days to reach the Desert of Singing Sands. The place lived true to its name. It was hot and dry, and the midday sun did not help matters. s***h, ever so peppy, ran up a small dune and took in the unfettered view of what lay beyond. She turned back, eyes beaming.

"You're going to love this, Grey," she said.

An old man dressed in a plain brown robe that clung loosely to his skeletal frame looked up, his hazel eyes sparkling with interest. With a youthful vigor, he started up the dune.

"Let me help," a young woman offered.

"I'm fine!" the old man replied grumpily.

"Leave him be," s***h said. "Besides, your body was meant to lift church lamps. People will break your spine, no matter how old."

Slash threw her head back and laughed, savoring the success of mocking both her companions under a single attempt. She could not control her excitement. They were only a day away from living like kings, or so she wanted to think.

"And, behold," s***h announced, spreading her arm in a majestic motion towards the landscape that unfolded before them. "The battle for the uncharted northern expanse. Run along Sight, a fresh harvest awaits."

Without waiting for Grey's approval, s***h ran down the dune, her long chestnut hair flowing behind her like the mane of a galloping mare. Sight looked at Grey, not sure either of them could follow suit. Grey had ninety years of age to blame, but her? She was just too fragile. Any misstep and she would fall, roll in the sands and never rise again. s***h would scoff, Grey would shake his head, and both would move on. She'd lie forgotten, buried in a sea of Singing Sands forever...

"Are you coming or what?" s***h shouted from far below.

Sight started, dismissing the possibility of her tragic demise. She clenched her fist resolutely, promising herself never to drop guard against her visions again.

Grey watched the two young women crawling towards the vast field of corpses like vulture hatchlings. Without hesitating, they started the harvest. Normally, under the circumstance that they had arrived earlier, they could have preferred taking fresh organs; kidneys, hearts and undamaged livers. These were most valuable ingredients for brewing healing portions. Thanks to the heat, almost everything had decomposed and the only things they could salvage were precious trinkets and talismans. s***h was very fond of trinket harvests. Her zeal alarmed Grey, but in the least, it was far much better than killing for gold.

Grey made his way down the dune, the sands sucking at his sandals and scotching his feet. His nose could not escape the ordeal of rotting flesh. The stench, on top of hunger, thirst and exhaustion almost made his head reel. Having refrained from channeling death essence into the vessel that was his body for over four decades, he had become practically mortal.

Sight inflated her bag and knelt beside the first corpse that she found less hideous. s***h had already harvested a few necklaces, bracelets and lockets. She clawed through armor plates like a vivacious burrower. Given time, Grey was certain the reformed reaver could plunder all ten thousand dead. But time was of great value, and the sooner they left, the sooner Grey could rest. He needed that.

"Any intact organs?" Grey asked.

"All bad," Sight answered, scrunching her nose after accidentally exposing rotting organs under a loose codpiece.

"We don't have to stay long," Grey said. "This trip was vain. Without the organ harvest we'll not be able to send the next portion shipment within the week. We had high demands in the city."

"I know," Sight said with exasperation. "Can't afford to risk running into more armies and pilgrims for cheap jewelry."

"Hey Grey!" s***h shouted from a distance. "I found something."

Sight guided Grey through the gory m******e. As they trod on yielding torsos and half-eaten faces, the deceased forms became more distinguishable. The troops in perfectly smithed silver plates and mail were holy knights from the Aegian kingdom. They had ridden into battle on war-bred chargers that were renowned all over the lands for their sheer aggression against enemy infantry, but horses in a desert were more of a drawback than an advantage. It made Grey wonder, but that was not his problem.

The enemy wore a crude mixture of plain steel plates, mail and leather, but all of them bore an emblem of three intersected circles on their chest plates and helms. Grey identified it as the insignia of the Gildor heathen nation, Aegia's own western neighbor. They used huge mountain goats for steeds and brought a lot of their mutated kindred as foot soldiers. Some had fur and scales covering their bodies, and others had muzzles and large canines.

Slash was never the one to keep her composure whenever she felt elated. Perhaps her new finding was too big a catch, and had thus left her awestruck.

"This better be good," Grey growled, cursing as his spine snapped painfully when he attempted to straighten up.

Slash could only step aside in response. Before her, lying on her back, was a middle-aged woman dressed in what was once a white mantle. Beneath that she wore an intricate brigandine armor, the scales of which were also bleached white. Had it not been for blood and dirt, her long hair could have looked a shade brighter than Aegian salt.

The fact that the woman gasped for air was a miracle on its own. Her blue eyes looked drowsy and devoid of life. She had a wide and deep gash under her rib, entailing the passage of an unholy claw. Exsanguination should have killed her, but here she was.

"A... priestess," Sight gasped in shock.

Slash rolled her eyes.

"I will wager my life on the pureness of her heart. And my ghost on her virginity. Her organs will sell for a fortune. Not to mention how much that Raia bastard will pay for her soul. But she's nearly dead. Even if she wasn't we couldn't afford to carry her back alive. Grey?"

"I need her alive," the old man said instantly. A spark glittered in his eyes.

"But—" s***h started.

"If you reach into your pouches you'll find glass vials at the bottom. It'll help with the heat and hunger. If it doesn't, we'll all die here."

"You didn't test the portion?" s***h accused with a troubled glare.

"We're testing it now," Grey replied, confidently uncorking a thin, long vial to chug in the oily green contents in his mouth. His face contorted into an expression of bitterness and disgust. "The taste could use some adjustments."

Sight followed Grey's example, though she rubbed her eye patch, a well-mastered habit that alluded her nervosity. Her youthful face warped, but she offered a satisfactory smile when the ordeal was over. s***h looked incredulous.

"We'll die here!" she cursed.

Left without choice, s***h uncorked her vial and drank. Grey curiously observed her reaction, but the blade-woman noticed and huffed with indignation. The old man fished out another vial from his traveling pouch and handed it over to s***h. He tilted his head towards the dying priestess.

"Sight?" Grey inquired.

"Give me a moment."

The young seer closed her eye, bringing her palms together on her bosom.

"A wagon destined towards an Aegian outpost will pass through the last track we left before entering the desert. Late afternoon, and it will be unguarded. There is a horde of... humanoid creatures south west of here. Inhabitants of a village in Gildor. They'll be here by sundown. Grey, they consume bodies of the dead!"

"That's enough. We just need the wagon. It seems you'll get the chance to use those blades after all, Slash."

Slash lifted the priestess effortlessly in her arms. It went without saying that she was the company's unannounced muscle. Accepting that made the task a whole lot easier. Her lips curled into a notorious smirk.

"About time."