Plague of Shadows

by Michael Wisehart

  Chapter 41 | Ayrion

  NELL CLIMBED OUT OF her wagon, Marissa and Taylis clinging to either hand. “Should we run?”

  “I hate to say it,” Zynora said, “but we did try to warn them.”

  Ayrion stared out across the open valley between them and town. “There’s nowhere to run. If it’s the vulraaks, we have no way of knowing how many more are in the woods, or which direction they’re coming from. For all we know, they could be blocking the roads out, waiting to grab anyone trying to escape.”

  “But we don’t know that,” Nell said, fear in her eyes.

  “Can’t you sense them?” Bek asked.

  “Not like I used to,” she said, readjusting Tameel’s cap where it had slid sideways on her bald head.

  “The vulraaks might seem like mindless brutes,” Ayrion said, “but Argon isn’t. And if I were him, I’d block the roadways.” He turned toward the screams. “We need shelter. Out here, we have nothing but our wagons.”

  He grabbed his swords. “Take the supplies from the rover wagon and put them in this one,” he said, pointing at Ol’ Lera. “We only need the one. We’ll cut the other team loose. From what I saw, the tavern looked to be the most defensible building in town. Stone walls.”

  “We still have the weapons we collected after the battle with Cylmar,” Tameel said. “That will help.”

  Ayrion nodded.

  “What about the children?” Nell asked, trembling so hard her husband had to hold her. “I could stay here with them in the spare wagon.”

  “They come with us,” Zynora said, grabbing several bags from the rover wagon and handing them to Taylis and Marissa. “Put these next to the bed.”

  “Ayrion’s right,” Bek said. “We can’t afford to get caught in the open. The safest thing for us to do is stay together.”

  “I want to fight,” Taylis said, pulling a small antler-handled dagger out of the back of his pants. “I’m going to cut their heads off.”

  Zynora snatched the knife from him. “Where’d you get that? You and Marissa are going to stay in the wagon with Nell.”

  Taylis’s cheeks flushed. Ayrion couldn’t tell if the boy was going to lash out at her, start crying, or both.

  Nell placed her arm around Taylis. “I need you to protect me and Marissa.”

  Taylis rolled his eyes and huffed.

  Ayrion untied his warhorse and swung into the saddle. He drew a sword and kept a close watch on the surrounding woods, half expecting a crazed horde of vulraaks to come charging out at any moment.

  He could feel the quiver of his horse beneath him. It was like the animal knew what was about to happen.

  “Easy, there,” he said as he gently stroked the horse’s neck. “Save it for later.”

  It didn’t take long before Bek was mounted and pulling alongside.

  Tameel held the team steady as they left the protection of the trees, Zynora sitting beside him with a crossbow cradled in her lap.

  “How are you feeling?” Ayrion asked. He hoped that if it came down to it, she would be able to unleash another one of those impulso blasts.

  She looked at him but didn’t smile. She knew what he was asking. “We’ll see,” she said.

  Ayrion nodded and took the lead. Bek swung around to cover the rear as the small caravan picked up speed. They were nearing the first of the buildings on the outskirts of town when they saw people in their nightgowns coming out of their homes to see what was going on. This side of Saeida had evidently not been hit.

  “Get to the tavern!” Ayrion shouted as they rode past. “The town is under attack!”

  The screaming grew louder as the one road leading into Saeida took a sharp left turn toward the center of town, widening far enough to fit three wagons side by side. Tameel barely kept Ol’ Lera on four wheels as they took the curve at full speed.

  Up ahead, Ayrion could see the vulraaks coming around the corner on the far end of the street, their pale bodies gleaming in the light of the half-moon. They moved as a pack, maybe two or three deep. This looked more like a large hunting party than the full-scale attack they had faced before. The creatures didn’t seem to be in a rush, either, spreading out as they ransacked the closest buildings on their way toward the center of town.

  Ayrion passed the livery, noticing it was still untouched. If they managed to survive the night, they were going to need transportation. The street was filled with people, most fleeing in hysteria, a brave few attempting to fight off the nightmarish creatures.

  It was a slaughter.

  The lucky ones were fast enough to outrun their friends and neighbors. Those unable to keep up were cut down.

  Ayrion swung his horse around the side of Ol’ Lera. “Use the wagon to blockade the tavern before they get this far!”

  Tameel nodded and jerked the reins to the right, steering the horses toward the front of the stone-sided building.

  Ayrion pulled to a stop. He held the warhorse steady as it stomped the ground, nostrils flaring in eager anticipation. “Bek, do you think you can free the horses in the livery? Hopefully, they’ll come back in the morning. If we survive the night, we’re going to need as many as we can find to get these people out of here.”

  Bek nodded and turned his horse around, kicking it into a gallop.

  Ayrion slapped his reins and chased after the wagon.

  “Whoa!” Tameel shouted as he pulled the team to a stop in front of the tavern. The vulraaks were still on the far end of town, heading straight for them.

  “Cut the horses free and get everyone inside!” Ayrion shouted, pulling to a stop alongside the wagon.

  A wave of townsfolk flooded the street in their direction, pouring in from all sides as the vulraaks herded them forward.

  “What are you going to do?” Tameel asked.

  “Whatever I can.” Ayrion slapped his reins and charged straight at the advancing horde. These people were never going to make it to the tavern if he didn’t find a way to slow the creatures.

  “Get to the tavern!” he yelled at those running down the street. Ayrion dropped the reins and drew his second blade, guiding the horse with his knees. “Take me into them, Shade,” he said. It took him a moment to realize he had just called the large stallion by name. It was a slip of the tongue. A memory. Shade snorted and picked up speed.

  They slammed into the front ranks, Ayrion’s swords offering the vulraaks no mercy. They severed limbs, removed heads, and tore bodies apart as Shade carried them through the horde and out the back, swinging back around to go again.

  The vulraaks were in a frenzy to sink their claws in him, but the enormous stallion tore through them with unyielding determination, trampling the half-human creatures under its hooves. Ayrion steered them back out, just to turn and charge through again. For the moment, they had successfully distracted the vulraaks, slowing their progression, but would it be enough?

  They were still a few buildings away from the tavern, and some of the people were falling behind, those too feeble to keep up with the rest. Ayrion steered the warhorse back into the creatures at the front, struggling to hold their attention.

  By the third time in, the vulraaks closed ranks around him. Shade took a deep cut to his left leg and nearly went down. Ayrion could almost feel the horse’s pain. Shade kicked and screamed in defiance as Ayrion swung from one side of the horse to the other, cutting creatures apart as fast as he could.

  A couple of vulraaks managed to rake Ayrion’s leg, and he almost dropped one of his swords at the searing pain, but before he could bring the blade down, Shade leaped forward, tearing his way out of the pack, sides heaving. Ayrion couldn’t afford to take him in again, so he jumped out of the saddle and smacked Shade’s rump. “Go! Get out of here!”

  Reluctantly, the horse obeyed and galloped away from the horde.

  Behind him, people in their nightgowns were still pouring in from all sides of town, trying to reach the tavern. Ayrion could hear the taverner shouting to keep the doors open, encouragin
g those still coming to hurry.

  He turned to face the creatures. There was no way he could hold off the entire onslaught, but he raised his blades anyway and drew on his magic. He could feel it rising inside him, the heat spreading from his chest to his arms as he gave himself to it. The creatures nearly trampled each other as they fought to reach him, to sink their teeth into his flesh, but with every attempt, blades as black as their blood were there to stop them.

  Back and forth his arms flew as his blades cut through. He dodged and struck, weaved and cut. He killed so many of the creatures, he lost count. He could feel his strength ebbing and knew he couldn’t hold out much longer—there were just too many of them. His jacket had cuts down both arms and across the front and back. He could feel each laceration.

  How much farther did he have to go? How close was the tavern? He tried turning to see when a larger vulraak leaped over the others and knocked him off his feet. The creature landed on the tip of his blade and died, but the damage was already done. Quickly, he used his swords as a barrier to keep their teeth from reaching him. He kicked, snapping bones where he could.

  Somewhere behind him he could hear shouting, human shouting. But he was too disoriented to determine where it was coming from. “Here! I’m here!” he yelled as he tried crawling backward toward the voices, fiercely hacking away at the only parts of the creatures available to him—their legs. The vulraaks screamed and dropped as their knobby joints were ripped open.

  Ayrion yelled as a claw sank into his left thigh. The pain was sharp and swift. Then another in his right arm. He couldn’t believe this was how it was going to end. He wondered if the others would keep to the mission without him, or whether they’d simply run and hide. He hoped Bek would hold them together.

  A vulraak crawled under the others and lunged for Ayrion’s throat. Ayrion grabbed it by the neck and squeezed, holding it off, but barely. He let go of one of his swords and grabbed a dagger inside his coat and stuck it through the creature’s neck. Inky blood splattered Ayrion’s face, and he gagged.

  Before he could push the corpse off, the vulraaks retreated. Three or four hands grabbed him and dragged him away from the pack.

  “Guess we should have listened!” a familiar voice behind him bellowed. Abiah released one of Ayrion’s arms and swung an old sword at the nearest vulraak. The taverner hurled curses with every additional swing, demanding the creatures leave his town or suffer the consequences.

  Bek yanked Ayrion to his feet and joined the small group of townsfolk as they fought to hold the creatures at bay. His hatchets tore into the vulraaks with impressive accuracy. The way he could use both sides of the head was amazing.

  Ayrion made a quick scan of his torn jacket and pants. He winced at the deep cuts and punctures on his leg and arm. A quick glance behind him let him know they were only about twenty feet from the tinker wagon. “Retreat!” he shouted. “Get to the tavern!”

  The small party of fighters broke and ran for the open door behind them.

  On their right, a family of five was pressed against the wall of the next building down, trying to fend off a small pack of vulraaks. A father and older son stood in front of the others. The father had a sword, and his son had what appeared to be part of a shovel.

  “That’s Orin’s family,” Abiah shouted, spotting the fighting as well.

  “Bek! Hold them back while I get that family,” Ayrion said. “Abiah, you’re with me.”

  “Fight!” Bek shouted at the other townsfolk as he turned to face the creatures once more.

  The rest of the fighters turned with him, joined by a few more brave souls from inside.

  Up ahead, Ayrion watched two vulraaks grab the older boy and yank him into the pack. Ayrion lost sight of him under the swarm of pale bodies. The mother screamed but the father kept swinging.

  “Hurry!” Ayrion shouted at Abiah. “They aren’t going to last much longer.”

  Chapter 42 | Ayrion

  AYRION RUSHED THE small pack of vulraaks surrounding the family, taking the heads off two before Abiah had time to reach them. There were at least eight more. He released his magic and let the visions take over. Dancing between the creatures, Ayrion cut and thrust, parried and sliced. He felt invincible. The creatures couldn’t touch him as he bobbed and weaved from one position to the next.

  Abiah somehow kept pace, hacking away at any that fled Ayrion’s blades.

  Before they knew it, the rest of the vulraaks were lying dead at their feet.

  Orin was too much in shock to even move. The youngest son was bleeding from a large gash on his arm, and the mother had sustained a nasty bite on her shoulder while using her body to shield her daughter.

  Abiah stared at Ayrion as though he’d seen a spirit. “You scare me, swordsman.”

  Ayrion snatched up the injured boy. “We need to get inside.” He turned to head back down the walkway but stopped. The front of the tavern was completely surrounded by vulraaks. He hoped Bek and the others were safe.

  “Flaming monsters have us cornered,” Abiah said.

  “What are we going to do?” Orin asked, clinging to his wife and little girl.

  A few of the vulraaks spotted them and broke off from the rest of the pack.

  “Why did I listen to you?” Abiah groaned. “I should have stayed inside.”

  Ayrion scanned the building behind them. It looked like a strong wind would knock it down, but it was all they had. He put the boy down and kicked the door open. “Quick! Get inside!”

  A loud boom shook the glass in the windows, and they were thrown to the ground.

  Ayrion rolled to a stop a few feet away, his head spinning.

  “What was that?” Abiah shouted, crawling to his hands and knees.

  Ayrion almost grinned when he saw the street in front of the tavern was covered in white bodies. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed the boy. “Run!”

  They charged down the walkway for the tavern door. Bek and Tameel were carrying Zynora back inside. The vulraaks that hadn’t been thrown aside like autumn leaves in a brisk wind had slunk into the shadows, too afraid for the moment to pursue.

  They reached the tavern, and Ayrion put the boy down.

  “Why is it whenever you’re around,” Bek asked, “I find myself fighting for my life?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Once everyone was inside, Abiah slammed the door shut and threw the heavy bracer into place. “That’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen!” he bellowed, turning to look at Ayrion. “The Creator didn’t give you enough sense to fill a teacup. You nearly got me killed!”

  “It worked, didn’t it? We saved them.” Ayrion bent over to get a better look at the cut on his leg. Blood was running down the inside of his pants and pooling in his right boot. A woman handed him a piece of cloth, and he pressed it against the wound. “Thank you.”

  “It . . . It was for your face,” she said, her cheeks pale as she stared at him. “You’re . . . covered in blood.” Her hand trembled as she handed him a second cloth. He used that one to wipe his face and hands, then his swords.

  The woman didn’t move, continuing to stare. He didn’t like the look in her eyes—part horror, part disgust. Was this what it was like to be a killer? If it was, he didn’t want the job.

  The creatures’ angry screeches outside pulled him from his thoughts. They were probably getting ready to attack. The people had boarded the windows completely and stacked half the tables and furniture in front of them. Good thinking. It was going to be a long night.

  Ayrion turned around so he didn’t have to keep looking at the fear in the woman’s eyes. “How many did we lose?” he asked Abiah.

  Abiah glanced around the packed room and shook his head, releasing a hollow sigh. “Too many.” He then turned to the boy Ayrion had seen sweating over the spit earlier. “Willem, go fetch me some ale; my mouth’s as dry as a sand targ’s backside.” He smacked his lips as the freckled boy pushed his way through the crowd.

&n
bsp; “That’s your son?” Bek asked.

  Abiah wiped his forehead with a cloth he’d pulled from the back of his pants. “Some days, he’s mine; other days, I really wonder.”

  Ayrion walked over to where Orin was standing, staring blankly at the boarded-up window. “How is your family?”

  Orin looked up, tears streaming down both sides of his face as he held his daughter in his arms. “My wife was hurt the worst.” He pointed to the right side of the room, where some of the ladies were setting up a healing station under Zynora’s careful instruction. Zynora’s legs looked wobbly, but she wasn’t letting it stop her. “Clara was bitten on her shoulder,” Orin said. “Steffen has an ugly gash on his arm. And Tarence . . .” That was all he could say before breaking down into open sobs.

  Ayrion laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, then left him to his grief and rejoined Bek and Abiah near the front.

  Willem returned with a single tankard and handed it to his father. Abiah downed nearly the entire thing before laying it to the side and wiping the foam from his mouth. “I think it’s about time you gentlemen told us what’s going on around here.”

  Bek crossed is arms. “Oh, so now you want to listen? Last I remember, we were being thrown out to the sound of laughter.”

  Abiah grunted. “Yes, well . . . what do you expect when a couple of strangers come prancing into town, claiming there’s some sort of monsters coming to kill us?” He dabbed his forehead with a hand towel. “Next thing we know, we’re being woken in our beds to the sound of people being eaten in the streets by a pack of white-faced lunatics. So, again, I ask you, what the blazes is going on?”

  The tavern grew quiet, all eyes on Ayrion and Bek as they waited to hear the answer.

  “They’re called vulraaks,” Zynora said, leaving her workstation to hobble over to where they were standing. She was chewing on a piece of fruit. “They used to be the good citizens of Belvin.”

  The room grew even quieter.

  “Are you telling me those creatures out there used to be human?” Abiah asked.

  “They were two weeks ago,” Bek said. “I’m from Belvin. Me and my wife live a couple of miles outside of town. We watched it happen.”