Soulsworn by Terry C. Simpson Page B

black smoke. An incessant, repetitive dissonance carried to Aidah, a sound she could not place. She caught a whiff of something foul, something so repugnant that she retched.
    Sweat rolled down her forehead despite the cold fingers inching down her spine. She wanted to flee, but she had no control over her movement. Drifting a few feet above the ground she moved inexorably forward.
    Bones bleached by Mandrigal’s rays formed a carpet that stretched for miles. Some were human. Others not. Skeletal fingers clutched old, rusted weapons, some sticking out of chest cavities, through skulls. Several sets of white pillars, at least fifty feet tall, sprouted from the ground. She frowned. Not pillars. More bones. Ribcages. She could not fathom what beast could be so large. Some of the bones rose in mounds that made her crane her neck to glimpse the summit.
    Beyond the bone graveyard was a stretch of open land. A glittering road cut across it, broad enough to fit a dozen wagons across, and then disappeared over a hill. Peeking above the hill were the tops of two structures of metal or stone. She decided on metal from the way the sun glinted off them.
    Another gust brought the smell again, worse this time, causing bile to rise in her throat. She recognized it. Once, her cousin Lumin had not been heard from for weeks. When she visited his house she found him dead, decaying. This was that stench multiplied a thousand fold.
    With the wind came the repetitive, discordant tones. Louder. Recognizable. Ravens, crows, vultures. The combination of scent and sound made her shiver.
    Aidah topped the rise and vomited. Below her, the expanse of sun-bleached bones changed. Desiccated and rotted corpses, marred by terrible wounds, replaced them. They spanned as far as she could see to her left and right. Weapons lay where they had fallen or jutted from the dead. Up ahead, the bodies abruptly stopped.
    Carrion birds feasted. Furred animals with hanging jowls and long snouts slunk among them, not partaking of the dead, but trying to snag a bird, some with success. The ravens and their counterparts swarmed into the air then, a wave of dark feathers and wings.
    People picked their way through the battlefield, dressed in black, hooded robes. They were tall, spindly, movements lethargic. As Aidah watched, they dragged the dead to add to mounds of corpses. Smoke did rise in the air here, greasy and black and carrying the reek of burnt flesh. None of the people noticed her.
    Beyond the corpses the glassy road continued on between a colonnade. On each side were statues that looked eerily similar to those of the Dominion. At the end of the columns rose the two structures, pillars a hundred feet high and half that apart. Lightning streaks danced between them, not vertically, but horizontally.
    In flowing, pale blue garments, a lone figure stood before the pillars. When the person turned, Aidah gasped. The silver-haired woman beckoned to her and pointed at the space between the pillars where the lightning resonated. She mouthed one word this time. A word Aidah recognized.
    Clara.
    Aidah woke with a start. Dawn’s faded light streamed through the window. She took a deep breath and tried to clear the dream from her mind. The children’s laughter drew her attention. Nerisse and Clara were at the table playing in the midst of breakfast.
    “I see you two are feeling better,” Aidah said, banishing her dream to her mind’s recesses.
    “Mama,” Clara exclaimed. She leaped from her chair, ran to the bed, and climbed into Aidah’s arms.
    “No dreams last night?” Aidah asked.
    “Yes, but Auntie Teres was there, and you, and Neri also.” Clara leaned away, eyes searching Aidah’s face. “Auntie Teres showed me that I will be well, that I shouldn’t fear the taker. You mustn’t worry, Mama. Papa and Gaston are watching over me.” Clara smiled the sweetest smile.
    “That’s great news,” Aidah said despite the heavy heart brought on by Clara’s words.