Blizzard of Souls

by Michael McBride

  Thunder still shook its head to try to dislodge the pole standing from its skull like the horn of a unicorn. Adam threw himself to the side to avoid the collision, the steed blowing past him into the shadows. It impacted the rear wall of the cave with such force that the spear was driven through the back of its cranium. Bones shattered and an enraged equine scream was cut short. The skeletal stallion swayed from side to side momentarily before collapsing. Bones clattered to the ground as joints dissociated, the fire it produced sweeping across the remains to finally consume that which had held it at bay so long. The bones blackened instantaneously, returning the beast to the death that had befallen its mortal form.

  Wrapping his arms around his chest, Mare finally drew breath, struggling to rise to his knees. The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced. A glance behind him confirmed what he already knew. His right foot bent away from his lower leg at a sharp angle, the toe of his boot pointing at his face. He felt unconsciousness rising within him in bleak waves, but couldn’t allow it to claim him.

  Adam turned away from the dwindling flames and charred bones that lit the mouth of the cave. Phoenix lay face down in the accumulation in front of it, bleeding the snow a meek pink. Mare was still somewhat alert, though he couldn’t seem to make it to his feet and was crawling far too slowly toward him, using only one arm for leverage, the other cradling his chest, his useless leg dragging behind. Ahead, War faced him down through the snow-clogged smoke, the falcons still swooping at him, but their talons no longer appeared to have the same effect. He simply swatted them away, unfazed by those that passed through his defenses, their dry claws only glancing off his armor. The Swarm gathered behind him, a wall of evil revealing itself through the storm. They stood or crouched, dewlaps folded to their necks.

  Waiting.

  The last of the falcons flew away from War, unable to flutter very far on its broken wings before taking a nosedive into the snow.

  Adam had no idea what to do. Charging would surely mean his death and running would only stall the inevitable.

  He dropped the spear and ran to Phoenix, grabbing him beneath the shoulders and pulling him up out of the snow. Wrapping his arms around the boy’s chest, he dragged him toward the cave in reverse, never taking his eyes from War, whose left eye flamed from the exposed half of his burned face.

  War strode forward, crunching the carcasses of fallen birds, clenching and unclenching his fists. One was still armored, the other bare and black. The Swarm advanced with him, allowing the scaly capes to unfurl beneath their jaws.

  Adam growled with the strain, urging his tired legs to move faster and faster until Phoenix’s trailing heels slid out of the snow and onto the smooth rock floor, where he rested the boy gently on his back. He ran back out into the storm and grabbed Mare beneath his arm, eliciting a scream of pain, and helped slide him through the snow and into the cave beside Phoenix. When he turned again, War was only a dozen paces ahead and closing fast, the Swarm right on his heels.

  Adam scrabbled forward and pulled his pole out of the snow, flipping it around to direct the tip at the red rider. His eyes scoured War’s body for its most vulnerable point. Armor still shielded the majority of his head. A portion of the abdomen was exposed, but best case scenario, all he could hope for there was a wound that would slowly bleed him to death or lead to a terminal septic infection.

  War closed half the distance, now so close that Adam could see the muscles working beneath the charred skin where it had been freed from the crimson throat plate.

  The horseman’s neck was exposed, but he guarded it with his tucked chin. That left only the half of his face where Adam could see the bared teeth and the contours of bone.

  And the fiery eye.

  It was his only chance. If he failed, they would make short work of Mare and Phoenix, who he prayed to God were trying to crawl back into the cavern where they could barricade themselves inside. But when he looked back, they were no longer alone. Missy and Jill had come out of the tunnel and were trying to help drag Mare and Phoenix into the mountain.

  “Hurry!” Adam shouted, his head snapping around to face War, who was nearly upon him.

  The giant man raised a fist and Adam lunged toward him, holding the long spike high above his head and slamming it forward with all of his might. The tip struck where he prayed it would, the pointed end pounding straight through the burning socket and out the other side.

  War roared in rage and pain, a sound like a sonic boom. Rocks cracked and fell away from the face of the cliff. His lone good eye focused on Adam with such intensity that his prey could feel its heat. He grabbed the pike with his right hand in front and his left behind, and rather than trying to pull it out either side, he snapped it in two and cast the splintered halves into the snow. Adam’s heart sank and his breath staled in his chest.

  He had failed them all.

  And as War lumbered toward him, he could feel death was at hand, his soul weighted by the promise of the slaughter of his friends and the knowledge that it was all his fault.

  Chapter 9

  I

  Mormon Tears

  EVEN AT THE FAR END OF THE TUNNEL, MISSY COULD HEAR THE eruption of hissing and the shrieking of the birds. It echoed behind her in the cavern like the moaning of the ghosts of warriors yet to fall. Piercing her ears, it lanced through to her very soul, tearing her apart inside. What were they doing? They were cringing in the shadows while the others faced an entire army of the creatures her father had become. If there was one thing she had learned from that man, it was that only bad things could happen when you tried to hide from the world. She and Mare had witnessed it on countless occasions, their teenaged lives deteriorating to parallel their father’s self-destruction. Yet Mare was still out there in the blizzard, risking the only life he had against seemingly insurmountable odds, while she listened to the rising sounds of his impending demise. And then there would be no one left to stand in the way of the mutated armada. They would fire down that tunnel like bullets through a rifle. Maybe they could impale a handful of them on their spiked battering ram, but then what?

  There were five of them: three women barely out of their teens, one blind man who, for all she knew was already dead, and a child. By the time they moved all of those heavy rocks behind the blockade to keep the Swarm from shoving it back down their throats, the cavern would be crawling with them.

  She looked to Jill, who had managed to at least clean up Ray’s face with a rag soaked in a puddle of water. The melted water trickling down through the fissures was anything but clean, but it was the best they could do. It wasn’t going to heal any of Ray’s wounds, but it felt criminal to do nothing. Jill raised her eyes to meet Missy’s stare, and within she could see the same doubts and hopelessness. It felt as though they were lying in their graves just waiting from someone to come along to bury them.

  “They need our help,” Missy said, her voice echoing into the darkness.

  “The plan was for us to stay here.”

  “And listen to them die?”

  “I didn’t say I agreed, but what good can we possibly do?”

  “More than we can here, that’s for sure.”

  Missy glanced at Evelyn, who stood behind the fortified pushcart, pacing back and forth in an attempt to soothe Jake, whose tears had finally run their course. His head rested on her shoulder, his eyes closed, only his quiet whimpering betraying his consciousness. Evelyn had been watching them, following along with their conversation. Her bland affect tipped nothing of the thought processes behind, her feelings a mystery until she finally spoke.

  “We can’t hide in here while the others die,” she said, her eyes steel.

  “So what can we do?” Missy asked. “We’re unarmed and outnumbered, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve never even been in a fight in my life.”

  “Neither have I, but what choice do we—?” Jill started, but she was blinded by a light that transported her in her mind. The light peeled back and became mil
lions of snowflakes choking the sky. She saw Missy standing in the mouth of the cave, screaming, her entire body covered with blood. Phoenix crumpled against the rock wall, head hanging limply forward. Mare on his back, crying out in agony. A giant armored monster beyond her worst nightmares tromping through the snow, crunching the carcasses of dead birds so white they were nearly indistinguishable from the ground. And behind that blood-red monster, his cooked flesh showing through where the armor had been knocked away, was a gathering of those creatures, held at bay by their master’s outstretched arms. The scent of death was all around her. Not the smell of cooking flesh as before, but of raw flesh torn asunder, of fresh blood rising to the surface, and formerly trapped gasses escaping from butchered bodies.

  Lightning slashed the sky, freezing the falling flakes in midair like a camera’s flash, and she screamed.

  “Jill!” Missy shouted, shaking her by the shoulders, their faces only inches apart. “Are you all right? What’s happening?”

  The red glow of flames faded from Jill’s vision to reveal the dimly lit cavern, her cries still echoing in its depths. She dropped to her knees, slipping from Missy’s grasp, exhausted. The vision had drained her of her strength, the speed and ferocity of its onset punching her like a fist. Panting, she looked up at Missy, who teetered from side to side until the floor finally held still beneath Jill, her equilibrium rushing back with a wicked migraine. She opened her mouth to warn Missy not to go outside, not to rush to the aide of the others, but she held her tongue before she could speak. If she had learned anything from these glimpses into the future, it was that these events were already destined to come to pass. Instead of trying to run from them, she needed to find the strength to learn from them. Courage in the face of adversity was one thing, but courage in the face of destiny was another entirely. She knew what lay in wait for them at the end of the tunnel. If they were going to face their fate, then she couldn’t betray it to Missy and risk allowing her to succumb to it rather than raging against it. She would have to summon enough bravery for both of them.

  “God! Did she have a stroke?” Missy called to Evelyn who was already rushing to her side.

  “I’m fine,” Jill said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

  “What did you see?” Evelyn asked.

  Jill felt a cold hand on her shoulder as she rose and looked up to see Jake’s teary eyes staring back at her. He smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

  Drawing strength from his affirmation, she planted her feet solidly and engaged first Missy and then Evelyn.

  “I saw Missy and myself outside in the storm,” she said. “And I saw an army preparing to fall.”

  Missy stared at her as though searching her eyes for the truth she was hiding.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” she finally said, turning to the tunnel from which a chilling breeze rushed. She took the first step forward into the shadows. Jill balled her hands to fists, her fingernails digging into her palms, and followed the sound of her footsteps.

  “Wait!” Evelyn called after her. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Take care of Jake and Ray. They need you more than we do.”

  And with those parting words, Jill hastened her pace to catch up with Missy, the temperature dropping with each step until the light began to grow from the far end, highlighting Missy’s silhouette. Jill nearly stopped at the sound of hissing, which muted even her thumping pulse in her temples, the pounding of her heart in her chest. She’d never been so terrified in her life.

  Missy stepped out into the cave first and paused, making it so that Jill had to slide around her against the wall to enter. Snowflakes billowed through the opening, and there beyond was the man Jill had seen in her vision, with only Adam standing between them. He was a monster of a man, if there was indeed anything remotely human about him, standing nearly a full foot taller than Adam, wide shoulders capped with spikes. He reminded her of a gladiator in his almost primitive shielding and imposing stance. She felt a scream rise in her throat, but her breath seized when she saw Phoenix lying on the ground. Mare was off to her left, crawling toward her, his face a tortured mask of pain, his shattered ankle dragging behind him at an absurd angle to the rest of his leg.

  Dwindling flames lapped at a pile of soot, only the wooden staff still actively burning, though there were still distinct bones in the ashes. A savage gust of wind blasted her in the face, extinguishing the fire and scattering the ebon dust.

  “Phoenix!” Missy screamed, running to his side and raising his head into her lap. Her hands shook at the sight of so much blood, the sheer number of lacerations making her cringe. Even the slightest touch opened one gash after another, his outer skin the consistency of cubed steak. She tore off her jacket and tried to mop up the slick layers of blood, even the soft fabric eliciting a hideous moan with each gentle dab. Sobbing, tears freezing on her cheeks, she raised him and wrapped her arms around his slender chest, his head falling against her shoulder. She leaned Phoenix against the wall and staggered to her feet.

  Missy stood in the mouth of the cave, dripping with Phoenix’s spilled life, and screamed so loud it even quieted the hissing.

  In the moment of silence that followed, Jill grabbed Mare by the wrists and dragged him into the tunnel toward the cavern, not knowing how the battle would play out, but certain there could only be more pain and bloodletting.

  II

  ADAM REACHED TO HIS RIGHT, HIS EYES NEVER LEAVING WAR, HIS HAND snatching at empty air until it wrapped around another pole. He jerked it out of the ground with a geyser of rapidly cooling reptilian blood and held it out in front of him, but he was too slow. War grabbed the upper end and snapped it in the middle, stealing both ends from Adam’s grasp and hurling them behind him. There was a high-pitched shriek as one of the poles skewered an angry black creature just beneath the right clavicle. It shivered its orange dewlap, tossing blood onto those around it, breaking them out of their trance. They pounced on it, tearing it apart so quickly and methodically that there was nothing left but the bones to clatter into the snow with straps of ripped skin.

  War’s fist slammed into Adam’s midsection and he doubled over, draped over War’s forearm. The fist remained where it was, the sharpened scales on his knuckles embedded nearly a full inch into his belly. His warmth rushed out onto that large red hand, which felt as though it was hooked so deeply inside of him that War might never be able to remove it. Even the slightest pressure pulled his skin away from the layers of fat beneath, though he continued to push against War in an attempt to extricate himself, but to no avail. It wasn’t until War raised his other fist and pounded it into Adam’s face that he tore away with the sound of ripping skin. He landed on his back, the taste of blood filling his mouth and sinuses, and looked up at War.

  The crimson goliath towered over him, studying him through that one good eye behind what remained of the mask. One of the creatures lunged at War’s bloody fist, managing a quick flick of its purple tongue at the blood before he knocked it aside. The others held back, though the hissing rose to a crescendo.

  “Keller,” Adam whispered. “I know you’re in there…somewhere. You have to fight against it.”

  There was no sign of recognition in the horseman’s eye, only the fire that burned with the intensity of his hatred. The way he looked down upon Adam, as a man might look upon a spider, he knew he was going to die. His right hand fell to his abdomen, pressing on the wounds to hold them together as he kicked at the snow to try to propel himself away. For each increment he retreated, War matched his progress effortlessly.

  War stopped and balled his fists, the fire from his eye spreading over his entire head.

  Adam prayed for it to be swift.

  A scream erupted from behind him and a figure flashed into view from the periphery. War’s good eye narrowed in momentary confusion, and he turned his attention from Adam to the blur that leapt over the fallen man and hit him squarely in the chest. The red rider may
not have known fear, but he recognized pain, rocking his head back and blasting a sound into the heavens that sounded like the combined wails of all of the tormented souls in hell.

  Adam scurried out of reach, but it was only when he turned back that he realized what was happening.

  “No!” he screamed, prying another pike from the nest of corpses. Stealing his bloody hand from his stomach, he grasped the spear and raced toward War.

  The Swarm was now frenzied, their golden eyes glowing even brighter, the capes under their jaws snapping wide and shaking in anticipation. They darted in and out like jackals at a lion’s meal, smelling the blood on the air and that which would soon be spilled.

  III

  MISSY LOOKED OUT FROM THE CAVE, HER VISION RED FROM AN OVERWHELMING combination of rage and fear. Her brother lay on the ground in more pain than she had ever seen him, his ankle obviously broken. Phoenix was crumpled against the wall under a skein of his own blood, shimmering in the dying flames from the skeletal horse. His wounds may not have been too deep, but they were positively everywhere. He looked like he’d been dragged through a tangle of thorns, summoning the skein of blood that now soaked her. Everyone she loved was dying around her. The emotional pain was crippling, fueling an anger she never even suspected resided inside of her. She couldn’t help her brother any more than she could help Phoenix. Adam stood alone before a monstrosity that would surely crush him, the Swarm going crazy as they waited to kill whatever remained. And for the first time in her life, she felt as though hope had abandoned her.

  There was only suffering.

  Adam raised a spear in a pathetically futile attempt to engage the armored man, who moved so much faster, snapping the wood and casting it off into the snow. He followed with a fist that caught Adam by surprise, bending him in half. Blood dripped from Adam’s midsection, patterning the snow beneath him. He no longer even appeared capable of moving.