Chapter 9 - A Morbid Flower

Lyla did not wake again until the next evening. The wagon was still and the sounds of other people were distant and far off. A soldier she did not know but recognized from the loading stood guard at the end of her wagon. From the smells of rotting flesh and stale fires, Lyla knew that they had reached the meadow. The distant sounds she heard were men digging graves. It was quiet out of respect.

Shakily, Lyla worked her way out of the wagon. Her guard did not dispute her getting up and walking around in the failing light so she guessed she was considered recovered enough to relieve herself after the long sleep. She stumbled groggily around a tree in the opposite direction of the main caravan and the soldiers.

“Don’t wander too far.” Her guard called after her and the young woman waved a hand in acknowledgment as she picked her way among the moss and deadfall of the previous year to find a suitable place to do her business. She was sighing with relief squatting against a tree trunk and trying to hold her unfamiliar garments out of the way from getting soiled when she spotted the body not more than ten feet from her.

Lyla’s quick shriek jerked Lan’s head around and had him sprinting over bodies, past his fellow soldiers, and into the woods lining the road before the soldier he left to guard her had time to call out. “Miss Lyla, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her reply was strangled a little bit. Partly from embarrassment for having her knickers around her ankles and partly from catching her breath from the surprise of seeing yet another dead face she knew. Lan slowed his headlong rush into the brush but continued toward her hesitantly.

“Lyla?” Her name rang out tentatively from behind her in a warm masculine voice that sent a shiver of desire through her even in her indelicate state. Shame flamed through her, and she shook herself off before hurriedly covering herself up. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, Absent Gods. It was him. She scooched away from her mess, using her shoe to push some leaves and soil over the wet spot. Then she leaned against the tree, resting her head and closing her eyes as she fought to ground herself from the tumult of emotions coursing within her.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her first kiss happened because she had almost died. It wasn’t fair that she thought the guy was handsome in a way that she didn’t think had been humanly possible before meeting him. Because one thing she’d had plenty of time to do in the last day was to dream about those moments before she had slapped him, and those moments he had held her before putting her into some kind of magical sleep.

She’d dreamed about the way every part of her tingled delightfully when he touched her. The way her heart raced when she heard his voice. Heck, she had dreamed about the way she could sense his location ever since that polarizing moment their lips touched and her whole existence began to be invaded by her awareness of him.

“It’s fine.” Lyla called out to keep the soldier away for just a few more moments. If she had to be close to him right now…she couldn’t be close to him right now. “I just found another body.”

“All right. Do you need help?” He sounded so concerned and kind.

“For the Gods sake.” Her vicious whisper was under her breath but apparently, it wasn’t quiet enough because the soldier called back to her almost immediately.

“What was that?”

“Just found another body. I’m fine.” Then she started grumbling under her breath. “You nosey busybody who can’t let a girl just have a moment to herself.”

“I can come and help you.” Oh, now he was just being obnoxious. Sighing, the girl rubbed the bridge of her nose and pushed off the tree with her shoulders.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Coming out from behind the tree she held up her hands and gestured at herself. “Was just a little surprised to find someone so far from the main group. I hadn’t realized there had been any bodies off this far.

“Mmm…” He gave his head a sheepish scratch then rubbed his very strong chin thoughtfully. “That is odd. I’ll get someone over there to look at it. In the meantime, I’ve got a waterskin for you. Would you like something to eat?”

It had been said almost nonchalantly, but there was a tenseness to the soldier’s shoulders and an intensity to the way he looked at her as he spoke that set off alarm bells in Lyla’s head. Maybe she had eyed him askance too obviously but he smiled nervously and opening the waterskin, poured some into his mouth and swallowed without touching it to his lips. Lyla snorted at that. Like it mattered if the waterskin touched his lips considering that his tongue had been all over the inside of her mouth yesterday. But she appreciated the effort anyways.

“Thank you.” She’d been approaching him cautiously and took the offered drink. “I’m not hungry right now.” Originally, Lyla had just meant to reject the offer so that she wouldn’t be an inconvenience and interrupt the soldiers’ messy and unpleasant work for her own comfort.

But as she spoke her stomach roiled in memory of the rotting bodies and she realized that, no, now was not going to be an acceptable time for nourishment no matter how much her insides were growling for food. Maybe she should limit how much water she drank also. Frowning, Lyla stoppered the water skin and handed it back to Lan with a grimace.

His blue eyes assessed her as if he were trying to stare into her soul and see if she was telling the truth. Lyla shrugged and made shooing gestures at him so that he would go back to whatever he was doing before he was distracted by her. The look on his face indicated that he didn’t believe her and could, in fact, hear her stomach making unpleasant sounds.

Afterward, she wandered around trying to take a tally of whom she knew. Of course, it was almost impossible to recognize the victims based on their faces. Most no longer had faces, only caved-in spaces of mush where faces had once been. She forced herself to look anyways. Their families needed to know who was dead and an accurate accounting was the only way to know if anyone had been…kept alive and…taken…by the bandits.

It was the least that was expected of her.

Horror. Horror everywhere she looked, until suddenly, out of the carnage rose beauty. These flowers were so lovely and delicately translucent that they pulsed with the dark blue glow of their own life force. As if these plants had hearts that pumped luminescent blood through their veins. A flame flickering with glints of tiny lightning within it rose from the central cup.

Thank the absent Gods. It wasn’t too late. The flame that fueled the flower hadn’t gone out yet. There was still time to destroy them before they reached the dangerous dispersion of seed spore part of their lifecycle. The flowers became…explosive…at that point.

Agony tore through her heart as Lyla realized that her relatives would be denied even a burial. What was left had to burn. There was no other way. The bodies had to be destroyed before any of the blood orchids released their seeds.

Though she had only ever seen them described in books, Lyla recognized the dangerous invasive species that was hosted in living bodies and then spouted upon the body’s death. The spores carried in the lungs migrated toward the heart and rooted there. Taking over the heart’s function and using the muscle to pump glowing magical sap through the plant.

Carefully, Lyla backed away from the area and retraced her steps to the wagon and the horses. The guardian who had watched her in the absence of her warrior stood to attention as she approached. He looked as if he were about to ask her a question so she put a finger to her lips for silence before shaking her head. Luckily the young man heeded her warning even as she drew next to him.

“Blood Orchids.” The youth stiffened at her whisper. They were an infestation that no one wanted in their graveyards. Feeding on the dead, any freshly deceased corpse could become a breeding ground for this species. The seeds had to be carried by a live host until the person died. It would not harm them nor sprout until the body died, supposedly, but…the infected died earlier than they should. “We need fire.”

Quickly the young man, who was barely more than a boy, went to the forward wagon and rummaged through the supplies. Slow careful movements were necessary to prevent any seed pods from being disturbed and sending spores into all of their lungs.

“Slow down.” Lyla reminded him. “Get the blankets and the lamp oil.” Covering the plant before lighting it on fire would prevent spores from escaping into the air before they were hot enough to burn.

“Is there a signal you can use to call the others back? We need to get them away from the bodies and to get the bodies covered so that we can burn them all. Has anyone been buried yet?” The boy shook his head, his face pale and strained. The parasite was harmless at this stage. It would kill no one even if they got infected. In theory.

But it was the principle. This thing should not be here. It was supposed to be confined to the Necromancer’s homeland. Death followed the blossom even if it were not the cause. It was a curse. And if it were allowed to reach maturity it would cause death.

The young guard whistled a specific series of notes, and the others carefully picked their way back. Silent and alert, like a pride of lions on the hunt, the twenty men returned. The younger guard walked over to the grizzled veteran she recognized as their leader from the last time she was awake while loading the wagons. As the boy relayed her discovery, her protector and savior noticed Lyla alone and walked over to her, his blue eyes trying to be kind and inquisitive.

Against her wishes, Lyla’s rebel body responded to his presence. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she wished that he was just a tiny bit less sure of himself. And her palms dampened nervously. Lan. That was what his comrades called him.

Lyla hugged herself tightly. She was numb from everything. And then she hurt more than she ever thought she could hurt. And then she’d be numb again. It was the same crests and troughs of emotion that she had ridden for the last few days while conscious. She began shaking.

Without asking her, her self-proclaimed protector wrapped his own cloak around her shoulders. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms and warm her further with his body. Too cold, Lyla didn’t bother fighting. She didn’t even have a harsh remark or sarcastic defense to push him away with.

The commanding officer was good. He didn’t waste time doubting Lyla’s words just because she was female. That was nice. A refreshing change from the way that men normally treated her. Soon, every carcass which could be found had been covered in an oil-soaked blanket. When the soldiers ran out of blankets, they took to using canvases from the carts and the deceased caravan’s wagons.

Dead wood was gathered, and trees were felled. Fires were lighted. And then the mages of the group burned the dead as if they were risen by necromancers. Arcane symbols flew from their fingertips as their hands manipulated energy and their voices formed the holy words of their Gods ordained birthright. The Chaos Mages rested those poor souls whose hearts would have been enslaved by the plant as they had rested untold numbers of corrupted dead for centuries. The members of the caravan were given eternal rest.

Once again, the smell of burning flesh filled the air. The glow from the flames would be visible over the peaks and valleys that separated this pass from her village. It would be impossible to go through this pass from now on. To be safe, a new route should be forged around it anyways.