The soldier was pushed away in the other direction by the panicked crowd of refugees. Gharland kept leading his company through them, the fleeing people parting around them like waves around a rock.
Another soldier came through, shrieking with fear and shaking, his armour drenched with blood. “They’re b-burning the town! They… they…”
“Pull yourself together, soldier,” Gharland said.
“They threw the children down the wells! I saw a babe ripped from his mother’s arms. Tossed like scraps. We ran. We had no other ch-choice! They come for us next!”
Tomas had to cover his mouth to hide his gasp. Rilan’s eyes became teary. Everyone’s throats tightened and heart sank at the awful revelation of the massacre occurring.
Captain Gharland decided it was best to avoid the town and continue heading east towards Mooncrest Mountain. There was nothing they could do for these people. They had their objective.
Tomas was fidgety on his horse, following at the back of the company. He felt conflicted. It was hard riding past people who were escaping their hometown, people who needed help, and seeing their homes becoming engulfed by wildfires in the distance and being unable to offer any help.
The crowd of refugees grew larger as the company progressed down the road in the opposite direction. Some wept, some wailed. Few carried any belongings with them.
They had barely escaped with their lives.
Through the wall of people, Tomas spotted a small boy, no older than ten, walking alone. His clothes were shredded, his face was covered in soot. The boy looked like a ghost- pale as moonlight, eyes staring blankly at nothing. He floated, one foot in front of the other with no clear direction before him.
Tomas knew not what had happened to the boy, whether he was an orphan before the invasion, or had just lost his family.
Did he have any family left?
The rest of the company did not give him a second look. He was yet another evacuee in a sea of helpless people. They kept moving.
His body was stiff, his hands trembled.
Tomas reached into his saddle bag as the boy approached him. He handed the boy several strips of beef jerky he had received in his rations but had not eaten.
The boy took it without saying a word, stared at the jerky, and then turned back to look at Tomas as his horse continued with the company.
The boy’s lips were parted, as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. He was speechless, breathless, probably still in complete shock. He just watched Tomas with empty eyes.
Those empty eyes.
※
The next day, the peaks of the Creator’s Fist were rising from the horizon. A welcome sight after weeks of travelling to and from the most barren parts of the Broken Coast.
The moons rose in the night sky as the day ended, sending ghost white light cascading across the rugged mountain range of the Fist, illuminating their snow-covered peaks.
One rise stood taller than the rest. It was Mooncrest Mountain. The gargantuan mountain rose from the pine forest highlands of the Darkwood, its steep, vertical peak textured with deep crags, white snow, and broken boulders, miles in the sky.
A far way off near the top of the mountain, Tomas could vaguely spot the top of a shimmering surface of glass and steel sticking out between the peaks and gullies of the mountain’s craggy slope. An enormous man-made structure in amongst the largest structures that nature provided.
Tomas knew it was the famous dome of the Grand Repository. It was only a tiny section that was visible, but it gave Tomas a good feeling. They were nearing their destination.
Finally.
Gharland paused to look at the vista. The Captain nodded with pride as the company traded words of relief that they were getting close now, not a few days out.
Tomas thought he saw some form of a smile on Gharland’s face, but it disappeared too fast for him to be sure.
“We will make camp here for the night,” Gharland announced, breaking the cheers.
“You heard the Captain,” Britus shouted. “Get a fire going and set up the Captain’s tent, now! Let’s go!”
The company dismounted at the entrance to the Darkwood, in a dirt patch surrounded by rocky outcrops beside a wall of towering pine trees that marked the start of the forest.
A huge pine tree had fallen some time ago, its thick trunk landing against one of the boulders and creating a natural wall to offer some protection on one side of the campsite. The wood of the fallen trunk had grown grey and was beginning to rot.
“Squire!” Gharland called.
Landry hopped off his horse and bolted over to the Captain, taking the reins from his hands, and leading the large mount over to a small tree trunk to tie up.
Gharland walked off around one of the boulders to relieve himself in a bush, while the other soldiers settled their horses for the night.
Ref and Styna took out the tent roll, ropes and spikes to set up Gharland’s tent, keeping wrathful eyes on Tomas and Rilan the whole time. Other soldiers grabbed hatchets and found some kindling and logs scattered around to chop up for firewood.
Tomas and Rilan jumped off their horses, Rilan nearly collapsing from the numbness in his legs. Tomas’s thighs ached and his hands were sore from all the riding. Nonetheless, they grabbed some equipment and began the process of setting up for the night, despite their exhaustion.
“Squire!” Gharland called again. His tone was rough; he was in a bad mood.
Landry raced over to the Captain once again and started unstrapping, unclipping, and removing his armour, piece by piece. Gharland stood motionless as he did so, watching his company set up. Tomas looked at the man, still so unsure of what to make of him.
“Is there a problem, boy?” Gharland shouted at Tomas. He had noticed him staring.
Tomas quickly turned back to the sticks that he was breaking up for their fire. “No problem, m’lord.”
“Then quit your staring, boy.”
Britus overheard the Captain’s remarks, rushing over. “Is this one bothering you, Captain? I can pound some sense to him if you like.”
Britus made a fist, eyes locked on Tomas like a hunting dog. Tomas did not look away from the sticks, despite clearly hearing the threat.
“That won’t be necessary.” Gharland snarled. “Not yet, anyway.”
The fire was lit, and the soldiers set up Gharland’s tent before laying out their bedrolls and chowing down on what was left of their rations.
Once Landry had removed the Captain’s armour, he began cleaning and polishing it by the fire. Gharland made his way over to Tomas and Rilan as they took their packs off their horses.
“We ride through the Darkwood at dawn. I hope you lads know where you are going,” Gharland said to the boys. His tone was still overly threatening, more so than usual.
Perhaps being so close to completing his orders is making him anxious.
Tomas could feel the tension that had been rising in the group since travelling past Hollowhill and seeing devastation in the countryside. It was a sight that had cut at the spirits of even the hardest among them.
No one knew if the efforts to thwart the invasion were working.
“The Darkwood is thick, my lord. Easy to get lost in,” Rilan replied.
Gharland raised an eyebrow, suspicious of Rilan’s comment. Tomas was quick to interject- he did not want the Captain suspecting they had lied to him about knowing the way to the Repository.
“By that he means that the road through the forest can be difficult to navigate, m’lord. But do not fear- we know the way,” Tomas said.
“I hope so… for your sakes,” Gharland said, stepping closer. The man towered above them. “I would hate to think you told lies to a captain of the King’s Army.”
Tomas gulped. “We will get us to the Grand Repository, m’lord.”
Gharland nodded. “You will stop calling me ‘m’lord’. I’m no fucking lord. I am your captain. You will address me as ‘ser’ from now on.” The captain beg
an to walk to tent. “Lieutenant,” he shouted.
“Aye, ser?” Britus said.
“Sort out a watch for the night. Two-hour shifts. We ride at dawn.” The Captain snuck into his tent, away from the rest. Landry sat outside the tent at a smaller fire, cooking up a small stew for the Captain’s supper.
Rilan leant in towards Tomas to speak softly. “Captain’s got a real stick up his arse today.”
Tomas could not help but crack a smile. “I hope we remember the way.”
“How can we not? We’ve lived in the area all our lives.”
“It’s not like we ever ventured out of town all that often, though,” Tomas said.
He was focusing on Gharland’s words and was beginning to worry. Did they actually know the way to the Grand Repository? Had they indeed made it up to escape the horrors of the battlefield? Neither of them had ever taken the path before.
Tomas looked through the dark wall of pine trees, into the blackness ahead full of twisting vegetation and rugged rocks.
“Those woods are a maze.”
Rilan huffed. “Look, we find the path, we follow the path to the mountain, then we stick to the road up the mountain. There’s only one road up to the Grand Repository, right? It can’t be all that hard, can it?”
Tomas nodded unsurely. He wanted to take on Rilan’s optimism. Yet something at the back of his mind was pulling at the threads of his confidence.
What if we don’t know the way? Did we sign on to something that we weren’t capable of?
The idea of getting lost in the Darkwood was not a reassuring one… almost as scary as being accused of lying by Captain Gharland.
“Hey,” Rilan said, nudging Tomas and pulling him out of his worries. “Stop overthinking.”
Clouds were rolling in from the mountains, turning the sky into a starless, moonless expanse of black and grey. Some light snow fell from the heavens like thousands of tiny angels gracefully gliding towards the ground. The only illumination came from the several campfires around the site as the area fell into dark.
A distant howl interrupted the quiet chatter amongst the campsites. Everybody went dead silent as the monstrous noise echoed around them. Another howl, almost a shriek, came from out of the black, much closer than the first.
Tomas and Rilan both stood up, listening intently.
“Was that a wolf?” old man Hemish asked, munching on a half-rotting apple he found along the road.
“That’s not like any wolf I’ve ever heard,” Rilan shuttered.
Tomas focused on every sound to try and make it out. He waited to hear it again.
Another howl. Harsher, more piercing.
“A bear, maybe?” a young soldier named Antony asked.
“Have you ever heard a bear howl?” Smiling John joked, elbowing his comrade. “Fuckin’ idiot.”
“Be quiet,” Rilan said sternly.
The soldiers sealed their mouths, eyeing the recruit with confusion.
“Did he just tell me to be quiet?” Antony asked sarcastically.
“Will you shut up!?” Tomas blurted out. He and Rilan stood motionless.
Lieutenant Britus stormed over to the boys. “Who do you think you are, boy? Giving orders to my men?”
A twig snapped in the dark woods nearby. And then another. Something was moving on the edge of the forest by the campsite. It sounded big.
They eyes tracked the noises. Britus heard it too, freezing mid-step and listening closely, realising how close the sounds were.
“Men, keep quiet,” Britus said with an open palm out to them.
Hemish, Smiling John, Antony and the rest of the company fell into an eerie silence as they listened.
Tomas thought he caught the sound of another… thing, moving around them in the dark. Two howls, two animals.
He knelt slowly, drawing his longsword out from the scabbard resting by his feet, just in case.
“Whatever they are,” Tomas said softly, “they’re surrounding us. And there’s more than one.”
Rilan and Britus realised he was right. There was certainly more than one. The footsteps grew more pronounced.
“That ain’t no bear or wolf,” Britus warned.
Two things were moving around their campsite in the dark of night. They were big, whatever they were. Sticks snapped under their weight and the snow crunched as they circled around deliberately.
The night was so dark, however, that they could not see a damned thing.
Landry had dropped the rag and breastplate he was cleaning, keeping a low stance as he drew his sword on the other side of the campsite.
A pine owl bellowed in the distance.
The horses, tied to some trees at the edge of the camp, became uneasy. They started walking on the spot, anxiously nickering to one another.
Then out of nowhere, the horses began to whinny in a shrill panic as something rushed them in the darkness.
Tomas ducked to the ground as he heard a deafening bang in the direction of where the horses were.
Wood splintered and ropes snapped as a horse was ripped from its station. The entire pine tree was split in two and collapsed into the snow with a crash.
The other horses were in a complete state of panic. Some had had their ropes cut when the tree was split in two and took off running into the night. The remaining mounts reared on their hind legs and tugged against their ropes, trying desperately to get away from whatever was attacking.
Still, Tomas could not see the attacker in the shadows.
“To arms! To arms!” Gharland shouted, rushing from his tent with sword in hand. The sound would have awoken any man.
The entire camp fell into a state of panic as the men took their weapons and shields. None had time to put on their armour, wearing only their padded gambesons.
A brown and white object came flying out from the darkness. Rilan ducked as it flew overhead.
Tomas gasped upon realising it was a severed horse’s head.
The decapitated head sprayed fountains of blood and flesh as it clattered into the snow beside one of the fires. The head had not been cut but torn from the body before being tossed away.
The horse’s black eyes were wide open in terror.
The men huddled up in a large circle at the centre of camp, swords and spears pointing outwards. Captain Gharland and Lieutenant Britus stood in formation with their men.
Something rushed around the camp once again, just out of sight.
It was fast. So fast. Too fast.
“Stand firm,” Gharland breathed through his visored helmet- the only thing he’d had time to grab.
Tomas could feel his heart beating in his throat. Rilan stood to his left, Landry on his right. His sword trembled in his shaking hands as he took a defensive stance.
There was another monstrous noise. A deep, hoarse growl, rather than a howl. Straight ahead, right in front of the group.
Out from the eerie shadows stepped a creature, unlike anything Tomas had ever seen. Every single soldier froze up in shock and locked eyes with the monster.
It was easily as large as a carriage, standing on all-fours with longer forelimbs, its upper body rising higher off the ground than its hind limbs. Its ash-coloured skin was hairless; its back was covered in spine-like bony protrusions.
The creature had the face of a hyena, with a wide, snake-like, hinged jaw from which hung the lifeless body of the decapitated horse.
The dead mount’s midsection had deep, jagged gashes running along it, sending down torrents of blood and viscera as the creature walked towards the men with its captured prey.
Tomas was paralysed with fear, so paralysed that his shaking had completely seized. He felt the exact same rush of sheer panic that he had felt moments before the battle at Barrowtown, yet somehow this was a different fear.
Fear of the unknown. Tomas had never seen anything like this.
The heartbeat pounding in his head.
The tight chest.
The cool sweat dripping dow
n his face.
Everything slowed as he considered his options.
Run? Or fight?
Stay? Or die?
He looked for a way out. Flee into the woods? Hide behind the boulders? What do I do?
Run…
Or fight?
“Stand firm,” Gharland repeated, pulling Tomas from his moment of fear.
Tomas reasserted his stance- he would not abandon Rilan or Landry. He couldn’t. Tomas knew that the men encircled with him were his best chance of survival.
They tightened their ranks in fear, pointing their weapons at the towering beast. Its jagged ears twitched in Gharland’s direction as he spoke. It locked its yellow eyes on the group before hissing with a beastly snarl and breath stinking of rotting flesh.
The men could not blink; they were utterly hypnotised at the horror standing before them.
Was it real? Or was this a nightmare?
The creature was a complete abomination.
The beast dropped the limp, headless body of the horse, sending it crashing into the dirt. It shot it’s head up and howled another blood-curdling call which they had been hearing.
The beast’s lower jaw split at the centre as it shrieked, opening hideously wide in three different directions, revealing sinister blades for teeth.
The beast lunged for them.
Rushing on all-fours, the immense monster barged into the group of men. The soldiers to Tomas’s side were thrown off their feet and flung backwards into the men behind them.
Smiling John went flying into one of the firepits, the campfire collapsing in a plume of smoke and embers. Flames engulfed the man.
He wailed before leaping to his feet and running to the snow to try extinguishing his agony.
Another soldier who Tomas did not know was thrown into the air, back into the fallen tree log and impaled through the pelvis on an outstretched broken branch where his limp body then hung.
Tomas heard the crack of broken ribs from the immense force, even over the screams of the men around him as they charged the creature.
The men encircled the towering beast, the tips of their swords and spears enveloping it. Tomas came up from behind with Rilan and Landry, all three jabbing the thick, ghostly hide as hard as they could.
Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1) Page 27