Groundborn

by Scott Moore

  Alti grabbed the hem of her robes and freed her feet. Not a single murmur sounded about the strange woman who stepped from the shadows. The final thud sent the door off its hinges. Wooden splinters shot out onto the perfectly polished floor.

  Only mere seconds and the faces of the Groundborn poked into the room. Their yellow eyes scanned what would be their hopeful dinner.

  Screams. Ear splitting screeches. The sound of shuffling bodies. The panic that she had expected erupted. Death stared them down, and they were shitting themselves all over it. Alti spared a glance. Men and women alike pushed others over in their pursuit of safety. Tears streamed down faces that moments ago had been made for the stage. Alti looked at those who had been pushed down or had fallen in their panic. They would be eaten, and their blanched faces showed that they understood. She waited for a moment longer. Let them register the fear. Let them remember what they were hiding from behind these huge city walls.

  Nov had said that humans forgot everything. Now the Groundborn were staring them down face to face. The Groundborn saw meals, and the humans saw carnage.

  The whole scene seemed to be a frozen mural upon a wall. Anyone looking from the outside would have witnessed a standoff. Groundborn hovering near the door, scanning their targets with lust and humans huddled and fear-stricken

  Alti heard another sound. Another type of scream. She couldn’t turn, but she recognized the voice. Also, the distinct battle cry of Sera. Someone had remembered Earl’s teachings, even if he pretended for so long, he had not.

  Alti stayed calm. She had known these creatures since birth. Grew up with them. She wasn’t one of them, and they would kill her without her father’s protection, but she did not fear them.

  The scene broke. What had felt like hours had been seconds and the eaters came through the wooden scrapes. Teeth barred and claws forward before their bodies, the Groundborn were here. Nov had done his part, now it was up to her to finish.

  Allow yourself restitution and relaxation only if you wish to die.

  28

  Sammy sat down his cards and Miles was ready to collect his reward, but the creature’s growl had taken his mind from the game. The whiskey he had been drinking now soaked the front of his shirt; the cup lay on the floor. A growl came again. Miles patted the drenched front of his chest. He had taken off his armor for comfortable attire. Damn stupid mistake.

  “Never take off your armor,” he whispered to himself. It had been a good code for war. Something he trained for repeatedly. The man who disrobed to sleep never woke up, that’s what his general had repeated many times, and it now made sense. Miles felt like his feet were weights tied to his legs and planted to the floor. Sammy still sat there without expression on his face, but he had noticed the lumbering beast behind him now. Sammy never showed the alertness or the fear in his simple-minded ways.

  Miles used his palms to push back against the table and stand. His sword lay across the room hanging on a peg; old and rusted. The men accompanying him during the game all stood with stupid slack jawed looks and backed away. Not one of them would know a sword if it smacked them in the teeth. Where had the damn creature come from? Miles knew it hadn’t tromped down the hall or barged through the city. That meant it had just appeared and that meant no warning for the damn things.

  Sammy turned his head and looked at the beast behind him again. It seemed like time had stopped. Sammy didn’t stare at the creature long, he turned his head back toward Miles with the calmest, serene look planted on his face. Miles almost wished in that moment that he was stupid too. To not give a care about the death that hovered. Sammy had already forgotten about the creature behind him. As if he had seen an annoying fly that would fly off with no harm.

  Miles felt his heart beating against his ribs. He felt his mind racing with thoughts of death and destruction. Felt the sweat dripping down over his eyebrows. His hands ached and his feet were heavy. He took a second to glance at his sword again, it seemed impossibly far away. No way with his lead feet that he could cover the distance before the creature flayed him with those claws.

  Miles tried moving his left foot forward and kicked the cup he had been drinking from. Why had he allowed himself such pleasures when death loomed over his shoulder?

  The sound to his left alerted him first to the second creature inside the room. As large and ugly as the first, but this one had something distinct about it, the human skull crushing between its teeth. The crunch of the skull snapped like a tree branch breaking off in a strong wind and then the bone turned to mush. Blood splattered onto the ground and across the room onto the table in front of Miles. Miles felt his stomach churn. He had seen blood before, even broken skulls, but something about watching another creature eat a human made his stomach bundle into a knot of panic and fear.

  Miles glanced a third time to his sword. His legs weakened and pressure built behind his eyes. The scraping of claws on the floor sounded off a third creature appearing into the room. This one stood beside Sammy, but it didn’t move to attack. It stared at Sammy as if waiting for a command. Sammy paid it no mind, as if the creature did not exist. Miles wanted to find it weird, he wanted to call out Sammy for the odd behavior, but Miles couldn’t process anything. Too scared to even remember how to walk over to his sword. His old rusted out sword that wouldn’t save him even if he made it to the damn thing.

  He could barely think about running toward the sword anyhow. The drink had taken effect on his brain, or maybe it was the fear. Either way he would die a sloppy drunk mess of a corpse. Did it even matter anyhow? He would die no matter what he did. If he died now, maybe it would be quick. It wouldn’t be painless, not with those sharp teeth and claws protruding from the beasts, but it could still be quick. The king wouldn’t make it quick; the soldiers weren’t apt to let him have a quick strike with their sword, but these creatures were just aiming to kill. It almost sounded nice. No more running, no more fear, no more King, no more creatures popping into existence from nothing. He would be free from it all.

  Miles urged himself a step to the side as one creature moved forward. It would be easier, but Miles had been taught differently. Dying was a failure and even though it would be better for him, Miles did nothing because it was better for him.

  Miles heard more bones crunching and more cries behind him. Pain and fear tingled down his spine. One creature made a move toward Miles’ side and Miles fell to the floor. The creature sailed over his head and landed next to a screaming soldier, tearing into his chest with sharp claws. Miles felt the boy’s blood coat his face. He couldn’t die like that. He pushed with all his might and stumbled a foot forward and fell back onto his face. Miles felt the air rush from his lungs and gasped.

  The snapping of another man’s neck revitalized Miles to the point of pushing to his knees. The sword looked even farther away. Miles tried to stand, but his shaky legs gave way. His stomach emptied the contents of the massive meal onto the floorboards. He would die empty and covered in his own vomit. Miles took a deep breath and pushed again, lunging himself forward with all his mustered strength. It turned out the strength wasn’t much, and he slammed shoulder first into the wall, only staying up by the grace of a shelf his fingers caught onto. Miles took two deep breaths and grabbed the hilt of his rusted out sword. A weight tore his arm downward, almost too heavy to swing in this weakened state, but he grabbed it from the hook and turned with all the grace of a drunk. The beast looked as shocked as Miles did when the sword buried itself into his neck. One second they both stood there in shock, and the next the creature evaporated just as it had appeared. That left two of the damn things and a very weak Miles to fend them off.

  Captain Mant dove to the side of one of the creature’s massive claws. They buried themselves into the wall behind him. Mant showed scrapes and bruises but he still lived; which made him luckier or unluckier than the other men Miles had been playing cards with. The others lay strewn across the floor like forgotten scraps at a butcher. None of them had died with
out pain.

  Mant tried to make his way toward Miles. It would be a two on two fight if he could make it across the room. At least it would seemingly be a two on two fight, but Miles couldn’t move. The two creatures converged on Mant, one from each direction. Mant dropped to the floor avoiding another claw. The two creatures let out bellowing roars of anger. Then wasting no time, they turned and started to give chase to Mant who by the luck of a homeless beggar fell right onto his face. The two beasts stepped over him and let out another roar. Then with no attempt at grace, they tore him in two. The insides of Mant became the outsides of Mant and the floor below became covered in blood.

  Miles wanted to puke, but even his stomach wouldn’t listen to him. He was the only one left. He tried to scan the room and found Sammy sitting at the card table, arms still crossed over in his lap. It looked as if Sammy watched a soothing play put on by the king’s own troupe. It didn’t even seem to faze him that several men lay dead below his feet. Miles almost thought he may still be waiting on the next hand of cards.

  What kind of man was Sammy? Miles lost balance but held onto the wall for support. He couldn’t fall. Not yet at least, he still had to kill these bastards; or more than likely die trying. The Disappearers still provided hope, a way out. He just needed to get past these bastards. One last time.

  ***

  Sammy saw the attack. Saw the carnage and the destruction and yet, he felt calm. He felt nothing for the men who were being ripped into pieces. Nothing for the screams and the cries emitting from their dying corpses. Fear or panic should have come to him, but he felt neither. Miles had pushed the table forward when he stood in a hurry, then stood frozen in his spot. Sammy could see the fear dripping like sweat down his face.

  The creatures surrounded Sammy and moved past him with the same indifference he showed them. They killed with their teeth and claws and didn’t bother to pay him any mind. Miles stumbled across the floor. Sammy wondered if he would make it. What was he trying to accomplish? The creatures passed him, and he lifted his hand, it passed right through, just as it had on the path to Delvi.

  Miles launched for the wall and grabbed his rusted sword. He was afraid but Miles wasn’t ready to die. Sammy tried to register some feeling inside him. Only the odd sensation he had felt at the inn where the creatures had killed that woman came to him. He felt like he knew the sensation from somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where it had come from. It didn’t make him worry or panic, it made him feel more comfortable, as if it were a sensation he had known his entire lifetime. Some energy that made his mind clearer and his senses sharper.

  Miles stared down the creatures before him. He wobbled on his feet, looking far from his best form. One creature had already been dispatched as Miles swirled around with his sword thrust outward. Sammy felt the creature die. He felt its despair. The creature had fallen to the ground and faded into nothing. Sammy looked around the room at the bodies of the soldiers. They were piles of fleshy mess surrounded by puddles of thick, red blood. Sammy wondered why their bodies didn’t disappear. Why hadn’t the woman’s body faded too? It was something that perplexed him. Things in this place didn’t seem to make very much sense.

  Sammy refocused on Miles. It was the eyes that Sammy always noticed first when Miles went into the killing rage. They squinted, and they seemed to grow two shades darker around the white. Miles clutched his sword out before his breast and Sammy knew that anyone who stood in front of him would be the victim of that rusted metal.

  Miles twirled the handle of the sword in his hand. Then he lunged forward with an off balance thrust and missed the creature in front of him by a hair. Miles stumbled forward and kept his gait. Sammy pushed himself to his feet and stood next to the table.

  Sammy felt like above it all. He felt like a spectator in the room with no real interest in the outcome of the events. Yet, something deep down inside him knew he needed Miles. Miles was the only outlet he had in the world and if Miles faded away, then he would have nothing to tether himself to this existence. Where would he go? What would he do?

  Sammy watched Miles wobble on his feet and watched the creatures close in upon him. Sammy couldn’t touch the creatures. He knew this from experience. However, he might faze them in another way. Sammy reached for the chair beside him. It proved small enough for him to lift. He hoisted it to his chest and aimed at the back of the closest creature. Then with some effort he pushed the chair into the air. The room was just small enough for Sammy to connect with the shoulder of the beast in front of him. Not hard enough to cause any damage, but it made both pause a mere foot in front of Miles, who could probably feel their breath upon his face.

  The two creatures turned and made eye contact with Sammy, as if they just realized he existed inside the room for the first time. Sammy stood his ground. He didn’t fear these creatures. Sammy could feel the intensity of their emotions, like the feelings of the creatures buzzed inside his head. Almost like they were communicating with him, but he couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell him. Then, with a quick lunge, Miles drove his rusted blade through the throat of the creature on the left. It didn’t feel pain, but it felt despair. Sammy could almost understand the creature’s disappointment that it had failed its task and then it faded back into nothing.

  The last creature stood shocked at the events that had unfolded. It looked at Sammy as if Sammy had betrayed it. Sammy didn’t understand the situation any better than the creature. Everything that happened since the graveyard confused him, and anything before that he couldn’t remember at all. Miles fell to the ground with a stupor overcoming him. Sammy doubted he would get back up to fight; which meant that soon he would die at the claws of the remaining beast. Sammy had done his part in trying to save him, but he had failed. The drink had been too much for Miles to overcome, or maybe it was the fear; either way he would die on that floor.

  The creature bellowed out a loud roar and turned toward the prone body of Miles. It wasn’t the noise of the monster that drew his attention, however. There in the doorway with shields and lances stood at least twenty armed men.

  Sammy turned back toward Miles and noticed the creature disappeared. Miles pushed himself up to his elbows but was beyond getting to his feet alone.

  A soldier stepped into the room. “It has come before my attention that you Miles Tiro are a traitor to the king’s army and a wanted man,” he stepped forward as did the twenty lances behind him. “You are hereby arrested for treason and the slaughter of the king’s soldiers.”

  The soldier bent down with no real fear of retaliation from Miles. “You will be transported back to the king and he will do as he will with you.”

  Miles opened his mouth to speak, and only a single word escaped, “Beast.”

  Sammy knew they had seen the creatures, but the soldier did not mention them, nor did the lances behind him.

  “You are a beast,” the soldier replied. Then he stood back to his feet and gave Miles a single kick to the jaw that sent him down onto his face.

  They turned toward Sammy. “Take him along. I am not sure who he is, but the king may want to decide if he matters.” With that the soldier swooped out of the room and the lances came forward taking Miles and Sammy.

  29

  These creatures didn’t give a damn about stealth. They flooded the streets like a broken water well. They screamed and pierced the night air with their cries. Nov felt helpless to stop them. They were nothing but dots on the streets.

  He knew they would show no fear of anything that confronted them. That became evident the few times he had met them on the battlefield. They would continue to destroy until nothing lived, or they fell dead to the cobblestones.

  Nov had shut the gates and cut off the entrance to anymore of the vile fuckers. However, those inside were tearing up signs and toppling over wagons. They did not stop to destroy, they destroyed while they roved over the streets.

  If everyone stayed quiet in their homes, the Groundborn would pa
ss them by. If they were smart enough to keep their lights down and their mouths shut, then no one would needlessly die.

  He hoped that the beggars stayed in their alleys, that the drunks stayed in their quiet bars. If the party atop the hill stayed the loudest attraction, then their plan would work. Already, only minutes after opening the gates, he could see them amassing, heading toward the Lady Duchesses’ tower ball.

  It wouldn’t be much time now. He hoped Alti kept her swords sharp. His arms slogged with exhaustion thinking of the coming battle. He wondered how his legs had not given out under his weight, but they carried him to the edge of the wall.

  His stomach still rolled and threatened to heave, but he held it back. He didn’t deserve to feel ashamed. He had brought them carnage. Had a choice and made it. No right to feel sorry for himself.

  One thing Earl had taught him early, everyone owned their actions. Another thing Earl had taught him was that no man or woman should ever have to fight alone. Earl may have hated him for opening the gates. He would have disdain for Nov letting the Groundborn in. The biggest anger would have come from Nov standing here on the top of the wall without getting an ounce of blood on his sword.

  Nov looked down at his hip. On the wall and he had still brought his blade. He had promised the woman he wouldn’t use it, but he had still brought it. What kind of man would he be if he kept that promise?

  Nov looked toward the stairs. The elevator would have been the preferable method to exit the walls, but there would be no time to wait for the men to return in the morning. He had a mission now, and he had to see it through. Sometimes promises had to be broken. Nov ran toward the stairs, forgetting for a moment the weariness of his thoughts.

  ***

  The door’s splintered remains scattered over the ballroom floor. Majestic and peaceful moments turned into ugly chaos. Alti stood like the last hope of Sera. If she failed, then the city fell. Her father would win far sooner than even he had planned.