The Witch's Eye

by Steven Montano

  The Lith distanced themselves from the humans. If they had any objections to Flint and Shiv coming along they made no indication of it. The pale-skinned warriors rode with their eyes alert and weapons ready.

  The darkness of the Wormwood faded into the distance as the pale wastes west of Rimefang Loch came into view. Cross saw salt dunes and grey spires, twisted brambles and obsidian ruins. The barrens were stained the color of dripping meat, and the air was cold and rancid. Hard wind sliced across the bitter landscape. Cross shivered beneath his dirty shirt and armor coat, and Shiv wrapped her arms around her father’s waist while they rode.

  “Shiv,” Cross said. She looked at him. “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “Hisan,” she said.

  “Is that Arabic?” he asked. She nodded.

  Flint smiled.

  “She likes to study old languages. A friend of ours found an Arabic-English dictionary and gave it to her for Giving Day.”

  “Your camel,” she said. “His name is Musad.”

  Cross couldn’t help but smile, but he felt a small twinge of regret. The camel brought back memories of Viper Squad. It seemed so long ago he’d been in Dirge with Graves, Stone and Cristena.

  “Musad,” he whispered. He rode on the back of the brute, only barely confident it wouldn’t throw him. It had a slow and lumbering gait, an easy stroll that pushed him much higher up in the air than anyone else. He had a good vantage of the countryside, not that there was much to see.

  At least I’ll know if there’s any trouble coming, he thought. So I guess there’s that.

  Cross kept thinking about old friends.

  “You miss them?” Shiv asked.

  Cross smiled, and nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  “We’ll find them,” she said. She looked out to the horizon.

  “Not all of them,” he said. “Some people are too far gone for me to find.”

  “You’ll find them, too,” she said after a moment. “In your own way.”

  They rode in silence after that.

  They came within sight of Rimefang Loch. Cross had never before laid eyes on it from the western shore.

  Several miles wide and tens of miles long, the Rimefang was a massive body of water that had become the unofficial boundary between the Southern Claw and the Ebon Cities. A good deal of fish and shellfish could be found along the far eastern shores, and numerous islands lined with minerals and oil wells occupied the violent sea. Unnatural winds carried across the waters. There were creatures out there – aquatic marauders and arcane sealife, Vuul pirates and primitive Dracaj offshoots who made dark sacrifices in submerged coral castles.

  Cross used to visit another part of the Loch, the far off shore near the city-state of Ath. The waters were calmer there, and not so deep. The fish were just fish, not roaming sea monsters, and the area was heavily patrolled by Southern Claw warships. An obelisk monument had the names of those killed during The Black inscribed on its face. For the longest time Cross had made an annual trip to the obelisk to pay respects to his father. He hadn’t been there in a very long time.

  The point where the Lith and human band approached the western shore was mercifully free of Ebon Cities outposts or the strange bone pillars used to sniff out arcane activity. It was also a far cry from the waters Cross knew. Black iron barricades stood off the shore, barbed deterrents laced with hex and razor wire. The black waves were fouled with red sludge, and dry storms hovered in the atmosphere. The sand was dark and reeked of animal waste and dried blood. A shallow slope led down to the Rimefang’s bloody edge, and patches of thick trees lent cover and shade from the icy sun.

  “What are they waiting for?” Flint asked through gritted teeth. He, Cross, Shiv and the two larger Lith, muscular brutes Shiv had affectionately nicknamed Bull and Dozer, waited in a stand of low and leafless trees next to an abandoned boat house. The rest of the Lith stood scattered about the shore, so deftly concealed behind rocks and bushes that if Cross hadn’t watched them hide he never would have even guessed they were there.

  “I’m not sure,” Cross said. “For something to come out of the water, maybe?”

  “Like a shark,” Shiv said.

  “I don’t think a band of Lith warriors came all this way to ambush a shark,” her father said.

  “You never know,” she retorted.

  Bull gave them a severe look. They quieted.

  They heard the throaty calls of unknown animals. Blood flies skimmed across the water’s surface.

  Bull and Dozer were armed with heavy crescent blades, exceedingly sharp silver axes covered with runic etchings and script from some forgotten language. Cross held Soulrazor/Avenger close, and Flint had the shotgun.

  The air was so tense it threatened to snap. They waited for what felt like an eternity until they finally saw them. The Watchers.

  Half-wraith dirigibles, bulging ghost sacs of unguent and black smoke. Their pale eyes shone like beacons. The ground cracked and peeled and the waters churned and boiled beneath their gaze. Slithering tentacles dangled around beaked maws and tore at the ground with razored ganglia.

  There was a host of the undead patrol. Synthetic dead brain cortexes within the rotting meat husks channeled information back to vampire commanders at some nearby outpost.

  Cross’s blood froze. Flint grabbed Shiv and pulled her deeper into the bushes. Cross gripped the hilt of his blade tight. The Watchers wouldn’t go down easy, but they were nothing compared to facing a full vampire patrol.

  He held his breath. The world seemed to do the same.

  The Watchers creaked with gristle as they floated by. The sound of something being chewed stirred within their corpse-sack bodies. Meat juices stained the ground. Cross smelled burning skin and heard a choir of cracking bones, and it took him a moment to realize that sound was the Watcher’s voices.

  Shiv looked out from the shadows, her eyes wide with terror. Her father wasn’t faring much better. Cross motioned them to stay low.

  A Watcher floated close. The bushes bent and creased beneath the floating body. Leaves and twigs fell into his hair. Tentacles slithered and flopped overhead like epileptic snakes.

  The muscles in his arms and shoulders were coiled tight. Soulrazor/Avenger burned cold in his grip. Bull and Dozer both had their blades poised up and ready to stab at the Watcher. Neither of them moved so much as an inch.

  The undead passed them by. The stench faded and the creature’s shadow shrank. Dead grease fell in the bulging sentry’s wake. After another minute the patrol was gone, vanished over the jagged hills to the south.

  Cross let out a breath. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it.

  “God...” Flint said.

  Cross looked out and saw the dark-haired Lith leader, the woman Shiv had nicknamed Witch. She pointed to the south, and the other Lith moved in that direction. Broken bushes and shattered sandstone provided them with plenty of cover.

  “There are more vampires that way, aren’t there?” Flint asked.

  “Most likely,” Cross said.

  “Cross...” Flint said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Cross’s back knotted with tension. He wanted so badly to get them to safety, but he couldn’t break away from the Lith. Finding that jewel, that Eye, was important. It was somehow the key to finding Danica, he was sure of it.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” he said. Bull and Dozer left them in the bushes and led their crystal-laced horses onto the beach.

  Witch waited, and watched.

  “There has to be a better way...” Flint said.

  “No,” Cross said. “No, Flint, there isn’t, but I wish there was. We’re far behind enemy lines, somewhere on the northwestern shores of Rimefang Loch, and that means we’ll find Bonespires and vampire outposts all over the place.” He looked up at the sky. “We’re about as far from safe as you can get. I’m sorry.”

  Flint looked at him like he was crazy.

  Maybe I am.
r />   “Eric...” he said.

  “Dad,” Shiv said. “It’s okay. He won’t let anything happen to us.” She looked at him. Her eyes were large and bright, full of innocence and hope. “Will you, Eric?”

  Something inside him froze. He saw Snow, burning on the train. He trembled.

  God damn it, let her go. Why can’t you just let her go?

  “I promise,” he said. He tried not to shake as he looked down the beach. Witch waited for them. “We should go.”

  They moved south along the shore. The Lith were silent and fast, and several went ahead and watched for signs of vampire patrols. Bull, Dozer, Witch and a warrior dame Shiv nicknamed Rogue stayed close to the humans. Rogue was taller than Witch by a foot and seemed to be in amazing shape; Cross knew she could have overpowered him easily, and she was nearly as tall as he was, unusual for a Lith and doubly unusual for a Lith female.

  Worry gnawed at his gut. The beach was littered with jagged rocks and shattered shells, drifts of bloody seaweed and dead fish. The ground sloped upwards to the west at a sharp angle, and the top of the rise was obscured by leaning stones, thick brush and blood fog. The smell of salt and rot was strong.

  The further south they went, the more the Loch looked like blood. Dark storms churned to the east. They heard distant booms, folded explosions that echoed through the vastness of the sky.

  The going was difficult. They led their mounts slowly to avoid injury. Cross’s legs and feet ached from walking on broken rocks.

  A medium-sized sea vessel came into view. It left foamy waters in its wake, and it wasn’t until it drew to within a few hundred yards that Cross could even hear its low droning engine. The bladed craft was made from red and white steel and measured roughly ten meters long. A pair of Lith moved about on the deck, stoic and lean.

  They were waiting here. They’ve been planning this.

  Witch motioned, and the rest of the group started to converge on the shore. She looked at Cross and pointed at the boat.

  “It looks like we’re going for a ride,” he said.

  Flint looked out and nodded.

  “Not sure if I like the look of these waters,” he said. “But I’ll take being on a boat to being on this shore any day.”

  “Can you swim?” Cross asked Shiv.

  “Of course she can swim,” Flint laughed.

  “Before I could walk,” she smiled.

  “I can’t swim,” Cross said.

  The boat drew closer. The starboard side was badly scratched and the hull was dented. The deck was mostly bare, with just a coil of iron cable and a steering column next to a .50 caliber machine gun on a swivel-mount. The Lith onboard wore pale and tattered clothing.

  It took the boat precious minutes to reach the shore, as it had to navigate past a number of three-ton steel barricades jutting from the water. Cross watched the blood clouds. His nerves were alight. He tried to think about the monument on Ghostborne Island, about all of the times he’d visited his father there. About how he’d never taken Snow.

  No. Dammit, don’t do that.

  The boat drew close. The Lith onboard threw the mooring line to Dozer, who secured it around a heavy rock. The ground party prepared to board, and Bull motioned Cross and the others to hand over their animals. It seemed they wouldn’t be coming.

  “Damn,” Cross said. He’d really wanted to bring Musad. He patted the ugly brute on the side of its face. “I’ll catch up with you later, pal.”

  He got off the camel and helped Shiv dismount Hisan. Flint got down and started pulling gear from the saddlebags.

  Cross was about to do the same, but stopped. A terrifying sensation ran down the nape of his neck. The wind suddenly took on the feel of a rancid and freezing breath.

  He spun round, hand on the hilt of his blade. Something slithered across his skin.

  “What’s wrong?” Flint asked.

  “Lots,” he said. “Get back on the horse.”

  Cross turned and motioned to Witch. She sensed it, too.

  A mortar shell screamed out of the sky like a blood comet. The boat exploded. Fire rippled across the water. The two Lith on board were swallowed by dark red flames.

  The blast of heat knocked Flint backwards. Hisan and Musad fell to the ground. Cross grabbed Shiv and shielded her with his body. Several of the Lith were incinerated by the hot missile. Cross felt the cold lick of phantom tongues. He rose to his feet and drew his blade, keeping Shiv behind him.

  A wave of ghost matter rolled across the ground in a churning white wave. Cross slashed at the undead fog, and bits of the wraith mass fell to the ground in bursts of milk-colored sap.

  “It’s a spotter!” he shouted. “We have to move!” He looked at Flint, and then at Witch. “They’re going to shell this area again!”

  “How did they know we were here?” Flint asked.

  “There’s no telling,” Cross said. He felt presences nearby, mongrel and mindless spirits who served as slaves to the vampire nations. He smelled their rot filth on the wind and felt the ground shift from their unnatural presence. “We have to get the hell out of here, now!”

  Hisan was dead, burned to death in the blast. Several of the Lith were dead, and their frost-white corpses floated in the crimson waters.

  Musad was alive. He’d even escaped the attack unscathed.

  Camels have all the luck.

  Witch and the other surviving Lith jumped onto their mounts and raced south.

  “Come on!” Cross shouted. He took Shiv by the hand and hoisted her onto Musad’s back. The camel sat stoically, chewing curd and looking as bored as ever. Something approached from the north. “Move!” he yelled. He urged the camel forward and handed the reins to Flint, then turned and waited for the phantoms. “Go!”

  “What are you doing?!” Flint shouted.

  I have no idea. He tasted hex rot and charred meat. Even the blade in his hands couldn’t assuage the icy terror in his chest. I’m screwed.

  The ground cracked before a ghostly juggernaut’s advance. Cross saw bloody and broken faces, twisted spectral shadows that hammered forward in a locomotive of phantom flesh. He held the sword ready, but he knew it wouldn’t matter.

  Painful crimson energies poured over him. He stood before the soiled wave. Cross closed his eyes, ready to die, but the apparitions bent around his body like he stood at the center of a glass dome. Beads of ice ran down his face, and the howls of lost souls filled his ears.

  He fell to his knees. Pain shot through his head like glass had been jammed into his temple.

  Cross looked back and saw Witch. The Lith pushed the dark energies away like she yielded magic. He tasted the male presence of a spirit, felt it howl into the onslaught of unshaped wraiths. Witch’s hair blew in the iron wind, and her eyes glowed as white as diamonds.

  She wasn’t alone. Shiv was helping her.

  The girl stood just in front of the Lith. Her eyes were focused. She didn’t flinch, just held her hands out like she was flying. Her face was serene, and she moved her mouthed quietly, speaking to no one.

  Flint howled and tried to get to her, but Bull held him back.

  Cross’s muscles burned as he stumbled into the burning wind. Razored dust scraped down his throat.

  Arms shaking, Cross lifted Soulrazor/Avenger and thrust it into the mass of screaming souls. Sick power flooded over him.

  Release.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the voice.

  Let go.

  He gripped the blade tighter and howled in pain. Skin sheared from his hands. His eyes burned.

  Release.

  We can be more.

  Darkness splits the sky. Angels fall like black comets. Bolts of iced lightning cut across the ceiling of the world.

  The deep moon cracks, and the sea twists into a wall of faces. Ice smoke pushes up from the crusted floor of the island. The ring of blade-like mountains conceals a twisted and frozen edifice, a black monument to an ancient power.

  He sees a six-armed
woman and a host of ebon vampires near a twisted circle of stone covered with blood runes. The stone bears a shimmering mirror face that looks ready to explode. Monstrous hands push against the barrier from the other side. They’ll break through at any moment.

  Cross growled, and threw himself forward.

  Soulrazor/Avenger sliced through the wall of ghosts and struck the revenant commander at the heart of the spectral tide. The creature howled as Cross’s sword corded through ectoplasmic webbing and severed its tie to the subjugated undead horde, causing the ghosts to fall away in a blast of dissipating steam. Claws like nails pushed out through moldered skin as the revenant moved to counterattack, but Cross moved in and sliced off its head. Sinew and dust fell to the ground.

  “Cross!” Flint yelled. His eyes were on the ridge to the north.

  More undead patrols came over the rise, burned zombies covered with bloody runes. Sand leaked from their hollow eyes, and their iron claws crackled with false magic. A cloud of bladed shadows trailed them like an enormous cloak of nails.

  “Go!” Cross shouted. He moved as fast as he could.

  Magic seared the ground. Witch hammered the Revenants with arcane fire. Shiv stood motionless next to her, eyes were focused on the battle. Her face was calm, like she was lost in a trance.

  Cross slipped on the stones. Flint grabbed him and dragged him along.

  “Shiv!” he yelled to his daughter. “Shiv, girl, come on!”

  Shiv seemed to wake from whatever had taken hold of her. Her eyes widened in terror as she saw the zombie horrors at the top of the ridge.

  “God damn it, run!” Cross shouted.

  Witch’s spirit rained down fire and stone.

  How is this happening? Cross wondered.

  The zombies pulled away from the flaming storm. Cross ran up to Musad, who’d remained stoic and rigid the entire time, took Shiv in one arm and hoisted her up on the ugly beast before he climbed up himself.

  “Flint!”

  Flint grabbed hold of Musad’s flank.

  “Go!” he yelled.

  Cross kicked into Musad’s sides, and the mount took off with surprising speed. He’d forgotten how fast a camel could run.