by Lloyd Baron
Most of them stay. Broken and hindered by the onslaught of magic. The light fades. Tak’arshi surveys the field. He can see at least three hundred ghouls standing in the ranks. There are probably more the dark wave could not reach at the back. They will be flushed out when the men realize what they fight alongside. It happens.
One soldier turns to a comrade to issue orders, though what had looked like a human seconds before now looks like rotten meat tied to a bundle of loose bones. He screams and staggers away. Realizing that it has been seen, the ghoul attacks the man, driving him to the ground and tearing out his throat. The fever spreads, and soon hundreds of men are running for their lives away from the battlefield and the monsters. Some reach the hill and turn to face the hordes, forming an alliance with those who moments ago were their enemies.
“Danlynn,” Tak’arshi roars. “You have real targets now! Take them!”
Danlynn notches another arrow and lets it loose. It takes a ghoul in the face and the thing drops down. He notches again and lets it fly. A second ghoul drops. Again and again, until he is out of arrows, with thirty monsters taken down. He had only missed once. He drops back and Fia steps up.
“You know what to do!” he bellows. “Head only. Do not waste time with body hits. And watch your backs!” He holds his sword out in front of him and roars. He dives forwards and enters the mass of bodies below. Chaz and Derry’n are only a step behind.
Derry’n swings his hammer into the face of a ghoulish woman, and her entire head caves in. His hand and arm are splattered in her gore though he pays no heed. Two ghouls run at him, limbs flailing dangerously with swords in each hand. He ducks and rolls, remembering his training. He stands behind one of them and cleaves its head open with the axe while he jabs the handle of the hammer into the skull of the second. The ghoul drops to the ground and begins to rise, but he pushes his boot on its neck and it crunches under his weight. He looks up and swallows as five more charge towards him. He hefts the axe and leaps into the air, his feet hit invisible walls and he runs into the space above them. He shocks himself and falls into the middle of the group. He swings wildly though none of his blows land. Fingers rake across his cheek and his blood pours from the wound. Teeth tear into his neck and he screams. He thrashes his body around, but cannot break loose. More pile in around him and soon he cannot see the light of the sun. He closes his eyes and prays for help.
Fia holds his sword upright and waits for the monsters to surround him. He crosses his feet and spins, hurling the blade outwards in a wide circle. He times it perfectly, and the heads of nine ghouls drop to his feet. With no time to lose he charges deeper into the press of bodies and begins hacking at everything he can: men and women, the old and young all fall under his blade. He tries not to think about what he is doing. All these people are dead already though some of them still look like people. A girl staggers into his path. She is no older then twelve suns and wears a dirty apron over her tattered dress. She looks like any girl would, apart from the gash under her chin. She must have been killed that day, as she still looks warm.
He falters in his attack and she jumps at him, teeth and nails going for his throat. “I am sorry,” he says as he slices his blade upwards and takes off her face. Her tiny body falls back and he is grateful that she does not rise again. He would never wish to use his blade against a child again. More come at him and he roars a battle cry and leaps into the middle of them, his weapon causing destruction to the undead.
Chaz leaps and kicks and spins like a graceful animal. Her training had been in the art of dancing, which she uses now in her deadly attacks. Nothing can get close to her twin blades as they spin and twirl through the air. She pivots on her toes and lashes out a kick to the neck of a ghoul, taking off its fragile head. She twirls both of her swords to the right and opens the throats of the ones coming from the side. It does not kill them, but they do slow down and stagger backwards.
She stares into the crowd and sighs. There are too many. Tak’arshi needs to do something soon or they will tire and fall under the onslaught. A cry goes up from the hill, and the hundred or so men who had fled from there re-enter the battle. They drive a path through the ghouls until they reach a knot of them. Chaz is distracted by this and does not see the large robust ghoul, which bounds at her from behind. He crashes into her and she tumbles into the grass. She kicks out her legs to turn over but his bulk presses down on her, pinning her limbs. It bites towards her face and she is forced to let her weapons go to hold his mouth at bay. It snaps at her like a wild animal, dripping gore from its rotten teeth.
Light floods into the sky and the beasts move backwards. Chaz uses the distraction to kick her attacker off. The blob of a man rolls to the side and she swiftly jabs her boot heel into his eye socket. Regaining her feet, she snatches her weapons from the ground and runs back to the others.
The ghouls move back further, leaving the army of men alone in the field. Derry’n pushes up to his hands and knees, blood dripping from hundreds of tiny bites and cuts. He is amazed that he still lives. His skin prickles suddenly and some of the smaller cuts close and stop bleeding. The bigger cuts are reduced and he feels energy returning to his body. He glances up at the hill and sees the healer casting out towards Chaz.
Was the battle over? The ghouls still outnumber them though for some reason they are retreating. He gets to his feet and staggers into a run. Fia joins him and lends him a helping arm.
“What was that light?” he calls before reaching Tak’arshi. “It seems to have driven them away for now. We can regroup.”
“No need,” Tye says as he raises a hand to the sky. The air before his hand glows with a white light which vanishes into his palm. He looks out over the meadow and the army below. He smiles unpleasantly and calls out a command. “Soul Reaper.”
Tak’arshi shoots him a shocked and frightened look before turning to face the ghouls. The sky above them seems to tear open and thousands of tiny lights pour out. They strike down so fast and hard that the ground shakes with the impact. Grass and dirt erupts into the air, spreading out in a wide circle, taking all the ghouls and most of the men standing in the meadow.
It lasts only a second but the destruction is enormous. Nothing lives within the meadow. The grass is dead and brown and body parts, both undead and men are scattered everywhere.
Tye stares at what he has done. His heart becomes numb and he starts to shake. What has he done? So much death!
Tarfleam is there in a moment, his arms reaching around his friend, and lowering him to the ground. The boy seems to slip into himself and does not respond to the kind words spilling from Tarfleam.
Everyone else just stares at the battlefield. It will never be the same again. The meadow is no more.
It is Danlynn who speaks first. “They came here to kill us. All of them did. The men included. We would have killed them if they had not run from the monsters. It is not right how this happened. But nothing is right any more in this world.” He drops his bow and begins to walk away. Something whips across his face and he falls backwards, blood gushing from his nose and eyes. The healer casts but stops at the sight before them.
Baron Lokkie is on all fours, the arrow which had taken his life is in his left hand, half of his brains coating the shaft. His spine is torn from his back and thrashes around like a hideous tail, oozing gore and flicking blood everywhere. He begins retching like he is about to be sick and from his throat comes a sound straight from the depths of Gelast. His mouth opens and stretches wide, his cheeks tear all the way to his ears and his head opens like a book, his flesh flapping back. A black reptilian muzzle pushes from the opening, snapping into the air, a thick tongue lapping at the man’s blood. It coos and purrs with the satisfaction of its escape from the man’s corpse.
Tak’arshi takes a step backwards, fear knocking the power from him. He tries to cast but nothing will come to him. “It’s a Gloom,” he mutters desperately. “I can’t... I can’t... I can’t...”
Fia grabs his sword and ste
ps up, swinging the mighty blade in a fatal arc. The tail whips at him; his strike bounces from the thick skin, vibrating up his arm. He drops the weapon and falls back into the others.
“Its skin is like stone,” he yells, panic tugging at him for the first time. “Tak’arshi, do something!”
The Dark Clan stops and tries to focus his mind, but the terrifying scene before him blocks his attempts. He curses his emotions and tries to think with his logical mind, of all his training as a young man. Power flows into his being and he laughs with delight. Emotions are very confusing things. He calls on the dark energy around him and pours it into a construct.
A shadow crosses the distance between him and the ghastly birth and engulfs it. The beast roars but the power does not harm it. It bursts from the body and stretches to its full length. It is only the size of a large dog but is covered in sharp spines and has four deadly looking claws. Not forgetting the rows of sharp teeth in its wide mouth and the dangerous lashing tail. It is black like the night sky and its spines are silvery like stars. It crouches low on all fours and sizes up the man who had just attacked it. Its legs bunch under it and the muscles tighten.
“It’s going to attack,” Chaz screams. “Tak’arshi move!”
Tak’arshi stops breathing. His power had not even scratched the beast’s skin. He is useless in this fight. Weapons have no effect and dark power seems to soak into it. They need Riochald. His heel hits a stone and he falls onto his back, fear freezing his body and mind. He is useless. He pushes himself to his feet but in his terror he stumbles.
It barks once before leaping at the Dark Clan, jaws snapping at his throat.
The temperature in the shrine drops further, causing the solid stone slabs to become sheets of ice. Twice now Darwin’t has lost his footing and crashed down upon the rock hard ground. His jaw aches with the first impact and his bottom and lower back from the second. It had not slowed him down though. Canace’s desperate pleas and screams have gotten louder and more frantic. Whatever is causing this cold spell has his love trapped and in danger.
He bounds into the Great Hall, keeping one hand on the wall for support and one out at the side for balance, where the commotion is coming from and stops. His eyes settle on the back of Riochald. Her shoulders are hunched and her hair hangs loose from its bun, the dress she wears is torn and charred and stained with blood. But it is the fact she is floating a foot from the ground that really shocks him. He quickly scans the scene for any sign of Canace and any other survivors.
He spots the blond girl he has called his friend and love since birth huddled in a corner. Her face is a mass of burns, cuts and bruises hidden behind a veil of hair. She tries to lift her head but the energy is gone from her and she just slumps further down.
“Tell me again how this is not their fault?” Riochald screams at the now unmoving form in the corner. “He touched me. Made me his toy and then hoped I would not remember through the intoxication of the wine!.” She twists in the air and waves her hands about her. Hundreds of icy threads lance out like frozen spider webs and in seconds cross the distance between her and the far side of the room.
Darwin’t drops behind a toppled table as the screams of villagers echoes throughout the hall. He had not seen them all pressed against the wall. He peers over the rim of the table and shies away from the scene. Everyone he knows from back home floats in the air, each connected to a single thread. Their skins pale, and they all look on the verge of death. He has to stop this.
It is then that he recalls Canace’s earlier screams for Riochald to stop. He had not known then who she spoke to though her words had been full of pity and raw emotion. And what had Riochald meant by saying she had been intoxicated and made into a toy?
A sickness grows in the very depths of his stomach as his mind takes him back a few suns. His vision shifts to this room and Riochald sitting in a chair holding her stomach, complaining of pains. He, like everyone else had thought they were brought on by grief of not finding a bonded. Now, in his vision he sees tears in her eyes and a hidden knowledge in the frown on her face. She had been confused and uncertain but not for the reasons he had believed. Had she been raped?
Who would have done such a hideous thing in such a sacred place? The answer smashes into his mind. A waking dream tumbles over his eyes and he sees Master Toshin pouring glass after glass of wine for an upset Riochald; the man lowering her still form to the ground and lifting his robes. He sees the act itself and the dream-like expression on Riochald’s face, uncertain and not knowing what is happening; the moment she wakes she finds her clothes removed and her thighs bruised; then the suns of being alone and frightened, not allowing anyone to get close to her; her realization of the act in the Library and the revenge handed out to Master Toshin; and finally the tainted justice the darkness within her wishes to hand out to the people that should have saved her. The vision ends, and he realizes he is sobbing softly.
He stands, allowing the tears to wet his cheeks and the pain he feels for her show clearly on his face. He stops when he is still on the far side of the hall but close enough for her to read his expression. He tries to steady his voice but fails and his words come out as a muffled whimper.
Riochald spins and lashes out her arms. Tendrils of ice snake out but he stands his ground. They stop inches from his face and begin to wrap around his frame, never touching him but engulfing him all the same. He swallows and makes his face and voice like steel.
“Riochald, you have to stop this! Let us help you. If I had known what he did to you I would have killed him myself; but these people are innocent. We did not know.”
“Your words are empty, child!” Riochald spits. The voice that comes from her throat is deep and masculine.
“She may have listened to you, but she is gone now—somewhere where the pain is less and she can pretend that none of this has happened. She does not blame you so you can go. Take her with you.” With a slight flick of her wrist, Canace slides across the ground, under Riochald’s floating feet and into the waiting embrace of Darwin’t. The icy web retreats to let them pass and he carries his love into the corridor where he lowers her down.
She stirs and opens her eyes. “Save her!” she whispers before her energy fails and she falls back against the wall. He brushes her hair from her face and smoothes it behind her ears.
“I was going to,” he replies as he stands and strides back into the hall.
Riochald has forgotten about him and now taunts the frightened villagers hanging in her spider web. She pulls Barra Sid’le towards her and smiles as the elderly woman’s breathing becomes ragged and wheezing. Darwin’t uses the distraction and bolts across the room, snatching up a piece of broken furniture, a chair leg he thinks, and leaps into the air. The makeshift club cracks across the back of Riochald’s skull with a dull thwack and she crumples to the floor.
In the same instant the threads melt and the shrine begins to warm. Barra gasps in a breath before reaching the floor and Darwin’t’s outstretched arms. She clings to him, violent sobs shaking her frail body.
“Thank you. Thank you,” she repeats over and over. Others pass him, clasping his shoulder and giving thanks. However, most rush from the room and most probably from the shrine altogether. Barra follows, but stops at the entrance and gives him a sad smile. He knows what she is thinking and he glances at Riochald who is still immobile on the marble floor.
Canace staggers into the room, nursing her right arm and staring around at the destruction of this once beautiful room. Everything is gone. The records of bonding, the furniture, gifts from kings and queens, the stained-glass windows, even the stone pillars which are hundreds of suns old have been smashed into rubble. With the Library also gone there is not much left of the history of this building. They could rebuild, though it would never be the same.
Her thoughts echo those of Darwin’t’s although he is thinking also of Riochald. Even if she wakes and has control of the darkness will she ever be the same person again—now
that she has taken a life.
The world outside flashes white and hundreds of cries fill the air. It is over in seconds, and leaves a silence which is worse than the screams. Canace rushes into his arms and buries her face into his chest. He tries to give her comfort but his own fear is too strong for comforting words. He slowly eases her away from him so that he can see her eyes. She stares past him and she gasps. He turns, too late, to stop Riochald clubbing him across the shoulder. He pushes Canace away as he falls, but she tries to move back towards him. She attempts to calm Riochald at the same time but the woman is beyond reason. She lashes out at Canace with a quick summons of air, propelling her into the far wall with so much force that she is knocked out.
She stands over Darwin’t and grins, blood dripping from her teeth. She looks manic and evil and far from being returned to herself. In that moment he thinks it may have been better to have killed her when he had the chance.
“Riochald, please!” he begs.
“Silence!” she roars. “You do not speak to me! You hit me! How dare you!” Flames leap from her fingers and circle through the air.
“He is here,” he screams above the heat and crackling menace heading towards him. The fire vanishes and Riochald drops onto him, anger bubbling from her at his interruption.
“Who is here?” She spits.
“The Dark Wizard. He has an army outside. The others are fighting for your and Canace’s safety.”
The woman stands up straight and her manic grin returns. “Someone worthy of my wrath.” She strides into the centre of the hall and thrusts her hands into the air, lighting strikes down through the dome ceiling into her fingertips and she grasps hold of it as if it is a rope. She laughs, twisted and crazed, as she flies upwards and out into the sky.
Darwin’t rolls onto his front and begins to crawl over to where Canace is slumped. He drags her into his arms and rocks her back and forth. He cries openly with the pain of the destruction and the loss of his friend, for she will clearly die.