He reached one of the cottages on the outskirts, along with three other militia members, and pushed each of them inside. Turning around, Arturo saw that the foremost ash warriors were seconds away. He turned and spied Yizel in a similar situation, at the door to a nearby cottage.
“Make for the church,” he shouted at her, confident this strategy was the best hope they had. “But not directly - move between buildings, use the doorways and windows to reduce how many you have to fight.”
If they can be fought.
She nodded, then Arturo threw the door to his cottage shut just before the ash warriors reached it.
The door lasted mere seconds, but he had expected as much. What he had not expected was how the creatures managed to get rid of it. Before his eyes the wooden panels began to blacken, crack, and then crumbled away, falling to the floor as ash. Then the first warrior tried to force its way into the building.
Arturo, nose wrinkled with disgust, stabbed at the creature, and was satisfied to feel the impact when his rapier slid into the creature’s chest. What was demoralising, however, was when the ash creature did not seem to notice the wound, and instead grabbed the blade of Arturo’s rapier, trying to pull it and Arturo towards him.
A scream from beside Arturo brought his attention to the militia man beside him, defending against another ash warrior coming in through the window. The animated, grey woman had grabbed the villager’s hand, and had pulled him close to her, laying her other palm on the man’s face. To Arturo’s horror, he realised the villager’s face was blackening, cracking, just like the door. Then, the man’s face slid away, falling to the floor in a grey cloud, and his body slumped to the side, lifeless.
“Don’t let them touch you!” Arturo yelled to the remaining two, who were holding off an attack from another window at the back of the single room cottage. One of them broke away to fill the gap left by their companion.
Arturo returned his attention to the warrior in front of him. He withdrew his rapier from the dead man’s chest, pulling it through the ash warrior’s fingers that still gripped the metal tight. A number of the creature’s fingers were sliced off in the process, disintegrating into grey mist before they could touch the ground. Inspired by the sight of this, Arturo used his rapier to chop at the creature. It raised its arm to intercept the blow, but the blade sheered straight through the limb, causing it too to dissipate after being cut off from the main body. Hope swelling, Arturo sliced again, this time aiming for the creature’s head. The head rolled off, losing all cohesion, the entire body collapsing into nothingness a second later.
“Take their heads off,” Arturo shouted to the others. “That seems to work.”
Despite their lack of skill, the villagers’ machetes were much better suited to the required chopping action than Arturo’s rapier. Between them, the remaining villagers dispatched the two ash warriors that were assaulting the cottage in a matter of moments.
Arturo risked looking outside, and saw the village overrun with more grey creatures, rushing about the open space, ripping into the nearby buildings. The distant church was also gathering a fair amount of attention from them. He had little idea if they had gained entry into it yet, but had to hope otherwise. He was spotted by an ash monster, but quickly dispatched it before drawing his head back inside. In the back of his head, Arturo realised he vaguely recognised the face of the creature in the moment before it burst into ash.
A bandit. That’s one of Procopio’s men.
She animates the corpses of those she defeats.
He looked again at the villagers inside with him - a young man and older woman - as they finished off another wave of warriors trying to force in through the windows.
“We’ve got to keep moving,” he told them. “These are just advance fighters, softening us up before the Shepherdess arrives. We do not want to be stuck out here when that happens.”
They nodded, numb with shock. They had reached that place soldiers’ minds go in the heat of battle, knowing that each move they make could be the difference between life and death, and wisely burying those emotions down deep to do what must be done.
“There’s too many of them out there for a straight run to the church, but I reckon we could make it to the next cottage. We’re holding this one well enough. If we keep using shelter to fight off any attention we receive, we should be able to work our way back to the church. There’s no life in these creatures, so one on one they’re pretty easy to dispatch. We’ve got to run fast, to avoid getting bogged down by numbers.”
At the suggestion of heading back outside, the militia became decidedly less animated, but readied themselves when Arturo opened the main door, looking for a gap in the waves of rushing invaders. Seeing his opportunity, he ran, hearing the others huffing behind him.
The village was in chaos. Scores of grey figures were criss-crossing the dirt of the village, moving between each of the small buildings. Arturo kept his sights on the closest cottage, only fifty steps away from them. However, between Arturo and the safety of the cottage walls were a good half dozen of the animated corpses, many of whom turned towards them as they emerged.
Without making any noise, wanting to draw as little attention as possible, Arturo ran. He was ready for the first ash creature in his path, and sidestepped its outreached hands at the last second, decapitating it, not daring to stop running. His short scuffle allowed the militia to catch up with him, allowing them to continue running side by side with him. This actually made things more difficult when the next creature reached them, as Arturo found himself stuck between the villagers, unable to move as much as he would like. Fortunately, the two were not incapable, and worked together to tackle the next ash warrior, the woman slicing at the creature’s arms, distracting it long enough for the man to take its head.
They finally reached the cottage, Arturo dispatching another grey creature just outside its main door. He ushered the villagers inside, taking a moment to glance behind.
The Shepherdess’ black cloud was much closer to Calvario now. Her silhouette overshadowed the entire horizon, seeming to almost loom over the village, blocking out most of the daylight. It reminded Arturo of the rain season back on his father’s estate, when he was able to watch towering rain clouds advancing over the flat plains, the rain falling from them so thick that it was impossible to tell where the cloud ended and the rainfall began. The figure of the Shepherdess the same, but was a wall of blackness, extending from the Wildland floor to the heavens themselves.
There were four ash creatures running towards his cottage, having picked up his scent during the short sprint. Arturo glanced across the village to see Yizel and five - maybe six - other people making a similar dash towards one of the other cottages.
Queen’s Blessing, he thought at the sight of his companion, still alive.
Sounds of commotion from behind distracted him. His militia were already engaged in combat, with three ash people now inside the building. Arturo made to close the door, then realised there was not one there. The building had been breached before they had arrived.
An ash warrior reached at him from outside. Arturo carved a line down the middle of its head, then, not letting himself assume that was enough to dispatch it, removed the head from the body.
A cry from behind made him turn. The militia were being forced back, and Arturo was surprised to see tears running down both their faces. Then Arturo realised one of the ash creatures wore a simple apron and dress, and the other was a young man in farmer’s clothing. These were people from the village - probably the former inhabitants of this house - already raised by the Shepherdess’ powers. The creatures were distracted by the promise of an easy kill, allowing Arturo to quickly deal with them from behind. The militia then set upon the final ash warrior - a man in garb Arturo did not recognise - allowing Arturo to turn his attention to the doorway again.
The building Yizel had run to was mobbed from the outside, almost two dozen grey bodies trying to press to the openings of i
t. She had more blades than he did, but even that would not be good enough. They needed to move faster.
“Again,” he shouted to the militia, diving out of the doorway, not looking to see if he was being followed.
As Arturo had suspected, many of the ash creatures surrounding Yizel broke away to follow him. He heard one of the villagers from behind gasp as they did so, and Arturo could understand why. Just one touch would be enough to kill flesh, and a snake’s nest of searching fingers were now making their way towards them.
Almost reaching the next cottage, a cry from behind caused Arturo to turn around. One of the ash creatures had reached the male villager, lunging at his ankle, causing him to trip to the dirt. The woman paused to look back at her companion, and Arturo could tell she was contemplating going back for the fallen man.
“Keep running!” Arturo shouted, even as a second ash creature got its hands to the fallen man’s head. There was no pain on the villager’s face, but instead a look of complete helplessness as the colour bleached from him. Arturo turned back, diving into the cottage, ready to deal with whatever waited inside. There was only one dead man in here, and Arturo took its head immediately. The remaining militia member ran inside moments later, and Arturo took up position in the doorway, giving his companion time to catch her breath.
“Can’t stop,” Arturo panted, and the villager nodded back at him, gasping for breath. “Can’t hold a cottage with only two of us. Almost at the church.”
That was a lie. They were not even half the distance from the outskirts to the secure building.
Arturo looked outside again, then back at the older woman. She was clearly exhausted, sweat sticking her grey-streaked hair to her face.
“They’re concentrating on the centre of the village now,” he told her. “I imagine you’ve got a pretty good chance if you make a run for the Wilds, away from all of this. Get to the river and you should be safe from them.”
Hope bloomed briefly on her face, but then she dismissed it with a shake of her head. “I have children in there,” she said, moving her head to indicate the direction of the church. “Not leaving them behind.”
Arturo nodded in respect. “Camila, right?” he asked, recalling her name from his brief training session with the militia. The woman nodded, a simple motion made erratic through her nervousness. “Let’s go save your kids.”
Another wave of ash creatures hit the cottage. Arturo dealt with the ones that piled into the doorway, but he could hear multiple moans from behind him, a number of different windows being entered.
“Too many,” Camila gasped, and Arturo could hear her frantic movements, doing her best to dance between all of the windows.
Suddenly, the doorway before him was empty.
“A gap - go!”
Arturo ran into the fading sunlight again, the villager close behind. They sprinted across the dirt, moving to dispatch stray ash warriors that got too close.
However, moments before they made it to the next cottage, grey figures rushed out of it. Half a dozen of the dead things, reaching out to dampen the remaining sparks of life in the village.
“Queen’s tits - move, move!”
He knew there was no way they could take on that many, out in the open, and he panicked. He changed the direction he was running, veering off to the left, with no plan for what to do next. It was a stupid manoeuvre, he realised as soon as he did it - it would not help them avoid that group of enemies, but it did take them further from the safety of the cottages.
“They’re here!” Camila bellowed, her cry accompanied by the grunt of someone shouting while in combat.
Arturo turned to help, and his heart plummeted. The group of ash warriors were surrounding the villager, and more from nearby buildings were running to them.
Can’t help her now, Arturo thought, even as Camila took the heads from two former bandits in a single blow. Got to keep running.
For a half heartbeat, Arturo paused. He had heard those words in his head in Crazy Raccoon’s voice.
Wrinkling up his nose, Arturo ran back to Camila.
“Stand back to back,” he shouted, dispatching an ash warrior that was ready to grab the woman from behind. “Don’t let them get close.”
An ash warrior’s hands came dangerously close to Arturo’s face but he removed the arm as quick as possible, jumping back into the villager and throwing both of them momentarily off-balance. Thankfully, they were able to right themselves and begin a punishing rhythm of slashing and chopping. Unlike human assailants, these ash warriors were not afraid of the steel death that Arturo held in his hands, did not balk at the numbers that fell before the cornered Bravador. Normally losses like this would force an opponent to reconsider, realising that many of them would fall before being able to reach the swordfighters in the middle. Unfortunately, the ash warriors were not concerned for their own safety, controlled by an outside force to touch and turn Arturo and the militia woman at all costs. They pushed in on him, more gathering on the outside, pressing forward in a tight ring, ready to finish them off.
Suddenly, the crowds parted before Arturo. It was Yizel and her surviving militia. Insanely, instead of using Arturo’s death as a diversion to allow them to reach the church, these brave men and women had chosen to plunge into the middle of the village green and rescue him. He could not help but give a grin when he saw the Shaven appear through the dissipating ash creatures.
“Thank you,” he said, simply, not letting his blade stop moving. He took a quick head count of Yizel’s people and noticed that at least one of them had fallen since he had last spied her, as she now had only five remaining.
“Can we make straight for the church?” Yizel shouted, most of her attention on the grey bodies before her.
Arturo scanned the village. Most of the ash warriors were now focussed on them, probably nearing three dozen, but those numbers were reducing. More were still appearing on the outskirts of the village, and close behind them loomed the Shepherdess’ cloud. Judging by how quickly it was moving, Arturo gave it a minute or two at best before that blackness enveloped the village. Between them and the church, even if they could break through the mob packed tight around them, too many ash warriors still moved, dashing from cottage to cottage, trying to seek out any survivors. The church itself had amassed the largest number of them, grey figures hugging its walls.
“Don’t think so,” he replied, eventually. “Too many. Church looks like it’s in trouble too, so we need to get there quick.”
“Okay,” Yizel said, “we push for the nearest cottage. Go.”
With Arturo and Yizel taking point, the rest of the militia forming a protective circle in the centre, they pushed forward, chopping away at their enemies, aiming for their heads. Slowly, they inched towards the cottage. Their steel outmatched the strength of numbers that the ash warriors had, and Arturo was thankful that no more died in this last push to safety. Arturo and Yizel stormed into the building, quickly dispatching the three grey figures inside. This cottage was thankfully small, with only two windows and the single doorway leading in, easy to defend. As soon as they had all gotten inside it was a simple enough job to set up sentries at the important entry points. Once the ash warriors realised it was going to be difficult getting inside, most of them moved their attention elsewhere.
“Probably heading to the church,” Arturo said. “The copper doors will save them, but just the sheer weight of those bodies pressing against the walls will find some kind of weakness, eventually. We’ve got to get there before the Shepherdess comes. They’ll need us when that happens. They’ll be breached soon enough.”
“We’ll begin moving together, then?” Yizel said. “Seems to have done us well so far.”
Arturo felt a flush of shame, thinking of the people he had lost, when Yizel had managed to keep so many alive. Asking the militia guarding the doorway to step aside, Arturo took advantage of the lull in attacks to look at what was still left to deal with. Around the church the crowd of grey wa
rriors was denser, and a brief glance told him there would be no forcing their way past that mob. However, he did spy something that gave him a glimmer of hope.
“No chance of getting in on the ground,” he told Yizel, “but we might have other options. The buildings in this part of the village are much closer together. I reckon if we go on the roof, we might be able to jump our way across to the church.”
Several of the militia, those who had worked their way forward with Yizel, laughed at the suggestion, but Arturo could see the Shaven contemplating it.
“Hoist me up, let me have a look,” she said to the closest two men.
Happy to obey, the men heaved her up to the beams above, and Yizel smashed a hole in the thin wooden covering and pulled herself onto the roof. After a second, she shouted back down to them.
“It can work. Get up here.”
They scrambled to create a makeshift staircase using the few bits of furniture that remained, and soon Arturo and the rest of the remaining militia members were on the roof of the cottage. Below them, the ash warriors must have realised what was happening, and had stormed back into the cottage, but it was no use. Death must have stolen much of their dexterity, for they were unable to follow the living, their deadly touch disintegrating the furniture when they tried to climb it.
Arturo scanned the rooftops that lay between them and the church. It was possible, but none of these would be easy jumps.
Yizel was first to go. She took a long run-up and leapt across to the next building. She landed without much of an issue, using her hands to brace herself as she fell forward onto the wooden shingles that tiled the roof. She moved out of the way, allowing the first of the militia to jump across.
The first to jump, one of Yizel’s companions, did not make it. The woman slammed into the corner of the roof, desperately grasping for a firm hold on the wood. A dangling leg was all the ash warriors below needed, and they tugged at her, sending her sprawling backwards, disappearing under grey fingers. Arturo did his best to ignore her dying screams as he ushered the next man to jump. This man, breathing heavily, landed similarly to Yizel, cushioning the landing with his chest and his face. He looked back with a glory-fuelled grin, waving for the next to go, before joining Yizel in preparing to jump to the next rooftop. Arturo waited until the end. Only one more stumbled at the landing, but his companions grabbed him just before he teetered backwards. It was Arturo’s turn. He took a deep breath, ran, and tripped.
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