The Desert Spear

Harl turned to face him and snorted. “Well, boy, don’t say you didn’t ask for this,” he said, and kicked Cobie hard in the crotch.

His pants still around his ankles, Cobie had no protection whatsoever from Harl’s heavy boot, and he crumpled in a heap, clutching between his legs. Harl shoved Renna to the ground and raised his pitchfork, striking merciless blows as Cobie lay helpless.

“Typical bully boy,” Harl spat. “Bet you never been in a real fight in your life.” Cobie let go his crotch and tried to get out of the way, but his pants were still a tangle, tripping him up, and he screamed as each blow struck home.

Finally, as he lay gasping and bloody on the ground, Harl stuck the fork in the dirt and pulled his long knife from the sheath on his belt.

“Told you what I’d do if I caught you with my daughter again,” he said, advancing. “Say goodbye to yer stones, boy.” Cobie’s eyes widened in terror.

“No!” Renna screamed, leaping on Harl’s back and tangling him with her arms and legs. “Run, Cobie! Run!”

Harl shouted, and the two of them struggled. A lifetime of hard work had made Renna strong, but Harl turned and kicked back, slamming her into the wall of the barn. The wind was knocked from her, and before she could take another breath Harl slammed her again. And again. Her grip loosened, and he caught her arm, flipping her over onto the ground.

Pain flared through Renna on impact, but even through the haze she saw Cobie pulling up his pants and leaping onto his horse. Before Harl could snatch up his pitchfork, he had kicked Pinecone’s flanks and was galloping down the road.

“This is yer last warning, boy! Stay away from my daughter or I ent gonna leave you an inch to piss with!

“As for you, girlie,” Harl said, “I told you what we do to tramps around here!” He grabbed Renna’s hair in a fist and dragged her toward the house. She cried out in pain but, still dazed, she could do little more than stumble along.

Halfway across the yard, she realized they weren’t going to the house at all. Harl was taking her to the outhouse.

“No!” she screamed, accepting the pain from her pulled hair as she planted her feet and began to pull away. “Creator, please! No!”

“Think the Creator’s gonna help you with you out sinnin’ in broad daylight, girl?” Harl asked. “I’m doing His corespawned work!” He yanked hard, keeping her moving.

“Da! Please!” she cried. “I promise I’ll be good!”

“You made that promise before, girl, and see where it’s got us,” Harl replied. “Shoulda done this right away; made sure you took me serious.”

He shoved hard, and Renna fell into the outhouse, landing hard against the bench and wrenching her back. She ignored the pain and surged forward to escape, but Harl punched her right in the face as she charged, and everything went black.

Renna came to a few hours later. At first, she forgot where she was, but the fire in her back where she had struck the bench, and the blinding pain in her cheek when she flexed her face, brought it all back. She opened her eyes in terror.

Harl heard her screaming and pounding on the door, and came over, rapping sharply on the wall with the bone handle of his knife. “You quiet down in there! This is for your own good.”

Renna ignored him, continuing to scream and kick at the door.

“Wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Harl said, loudly enough to be heard over her tantrum. “Them boards’re old enough as is, and you’ll want ’em good and strong for when the sun sets. Keep kicking and you’ll knock the wards out of place.”

Renna quieted immediately.

“Please,” she sobbed through the door. “Don’t leave me out at night! I’ll be good!”

“Corespawned right you will,” Harl said. “After tonight, you’ll chase that boy off yourself, he comes callin’!”

It was hot in the tiny outhouse, and the air was thick with the stench of excrement. There was a vent, but Renna didn’t dare open it for fear of creating a hole in the wardnet. Flies buzzed noisily in the midden barrel in the pit below the crude waste bench.

Through the cracks in the wood, Renna watched the light dim as the sun began to set. She kept hoping, praying, that Harl would come back, that it was just a scare, but as the last glimmer of light died, so too did her hopes. Outside, the corelings were rising. She felt in her apron pocket, clutching the polished stones of Cobie’s necklace tightly for strength.

The demons came silently; the day’s heat drifting up from the ground gave them a path from the Core, it was said, and their misty forms even now would be coalescing into claws and scales and razor teeth. Renna could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

There was a snuffling at the outhouse door. Renna stiffened, biting her lip in fear, and in the silence of her stillness she could hear claws digging at the dirt of the yard, quick sniffs as the coreling inhaled the sharp tang of her fear.

Suddenly the demon shrieked and struck hard at the wards. There was a flare of magic, so bright it came through the cracks in the wood and illuminated the interior of the outhouse, and Renna screamed so hard it felt as if her throat would tear.

The wards held, but the demon was undeterred. There was a flap of leathery wings, and another flare of magic from the roof. The entire outhouse shook with the impact, and Renna screamed again as dust and dirt clattered down on her, shaken loose by the blow.

The wind demon tried again and again, shrieking its rage at the prey so near and yet so far. The wards threw the coreling back each time, but the rebounds shook the outhouse, and the old wood groaned in protest. How many blows could it withstand?

At last, the coreling gave up. Renna heard the flap of wings and its receding cries as it soared off in search of easier prey.

But the ordeal did not end there. Every coreling in the yard caught her scent before long. She endured the sparks of magic as flame demons raked at the wood with their tiny claws, shivering at the blasts of cold air as the wards converted their firespit. Worse were the wood demons, which drove off the others before long and pounded the wards so hard that the entire structure rocked with the force of each rebound. Renna felt every flare of the wards like a physical blow, and sank down to the floor, curling into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably.

It seemed to go on for an eternity. After Creator only knew how many hours, Renna found herself praying for the wards to fail—as they surely must before the night was through—just to put an end to it. If she’d been able to muster the strength to stand, she would have opened the door herself to let them in.

More interminable time passed, and she found she lacked even the strength to cry. The flare of magic, the shrieks in the night, the stench of the midden pit, all faded as she sank deeper and deeper into a primal fear so powerful that the details ceased to exist.

She lay curled tight, every muscle tensed at once, and tears flowed silently from her wide eyes as they stared into the darkness. Her breath came in short, sharp intakes, and her heart was a hummingbird’s wing. Her nails dug grooves into the wood of the floor, oblivious to the resulting blood and splinters.

She didn’t even notice when the sounds and flashes ceased, and the demons returned to the Core.

There was a thump as the outside bar was lifted, but Renna didn’t react until the door opened wide to the blinding light of the rising sun. After hours of staring into darkness, the light seared her eyes, snapping her mind from its retreat. She gasped deeply and bolted upright, throwing an arm up against the light, screaming as she kicked back until she was scrunched against the rear wall of the outhouse.