Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1)

by Mitchell Hogan

  “Alvar!” roared Stray Dog. “Get inside!” Blood dripped from numerous cuts on his arms.

  Other settlers milled around, filled with terror. One woman screamed continuously, her shrill cries rising above the tumult.

  A Dead-eye leaped out of the darkness to cling onto a man’s back, its pointed teeth latching onto the nape of his neck. Alvar beat at it with a club, to no avail.

  “Damn it,” snarled Stray Dog, then broke into a sprint toward them.

  “We need to retreat!” Aldric shouted, panting hoarsely.

  A Dead-eye lunged at him, and he felt a burning pain as its talons opened a gash along his forearm. He slashed his crescent blade through its skull.

  A strangled cry came from Bryn, and Aldric saw him press a palm to the mangled cloth and flesh of his thigh. They were vastly outnumbered. No matter their skill, they couldn’t last against this many Dead-eyes for long. Their injuries would accumulate, and eventually they’d all fall.

  Two more Dead-eyes leaped at Aldric. He spoke a cant of protection, and they bounced off the sphere of sorcerous energy that suddenly surrounded him.

  Niklaus hacked one of the creatures into the earth, and Bryn skewered the other.

  “They should be running scared,” Bryn said. “Why aren’t they?”

  Aldric realized Bryn was right. After such slaughter of their kind, the Dead-eyes usually ran. They must be being directed … presumably by a wraithe.

  Bryn parried a clawed hand and thrust his blade into the creature’s chest. Fangs clamped around his ankle, and he cried out. Aldric slashed his khopesh down and severed the head from the spindly neck. Bryn swore as the jaws stayed clamped to his boot. He kicked the air a few times until they dropped off.

  Only Niklaus remained unscathed. Not a single Dead-eye had been able to penetrate the deadly sphere his steel traced.

  ~ ~ ~

  Stray Dog had managed to escort the group of settlers to another house, but the occupants weren’t opening up. Three of the settlers carried the now unconscious man with the bloodied back, whose head lolled. Dog’s axes hacked into another Dead-eye as it came at them, the sharp blades making short work of its gangling form.

  “Open the bloody door!” shouted Dog. He hammered on it again before giving up.

  Three more Dead-eyes came at the group, and Alvar joined Dog to fend them off the settlers. Stray Dog dropped one axe and latched onto a white leg before it disappeared into a broken window. He yanked the Dead-eye half out and hacked into its back until it was still.

  A woman’s screams came from inside the house. Dog looked around and saw no Dead-eyes were close to him, but more were racing toward the settlers close by. Stray Dog leaped at them and hacked viciously, claws raking his arms before he sent another two Dead-eyes lifeless to the dirt. Then he saw Alvar facing off against three of the creatures. It was too many—

  “Alvar!” he roared, and pushed between two settlers to get to the boy and the three Dead-eyes.

  Alvar thrust his sharp pole at one, which jumped back, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop the other two coming at him from either side. They jumped at him, clawing and biting. Alvar cried out, dropping his pole and punching and kicking while the Dead-eyes savaged him.

  Stray Dog leaped at them, axes thudding into white flesh. He screamed wordlessly, hacking at the Dead-eyes until they dropped.

  Stray Dog fell to his knees and cradled Alvar’s inert form. “Aldric!” he screamed. The priest could heal Alvar. But even so … Stray Dog could tell the boy was injured beyond saving. There was nothing he, nor anyone, could do.

  Too late. Tears streamed down his face. I’m too late. As always. Too late to save his son, which was why he’d had to leave his wife. He couldn’t face her after.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sooner I’m gone from this goddess-awful place, the better, thought Valeria.

  A snarling Dead-eye rushed toward her, and she let loose with her goddess’s power. The creature howled like a dog run over by a wagon and writhed on the ground.

  Valeria gritted her teeth against the pain; a reverberation of what she’d caused the Dead-eye to feel. The goddess’s gifts came with their own attachments, one of them being her gifted priestesses felt a portion of the agony they inflicted. It had made for some interesting times during her training, when she and her fellow acolytes had tested each other to see who could withstand the most pain.

  Frightened faces peered at Valeria through a window of Matron Hazel’s cottage—some of the young women she’d been grooming for the goddess. One of them waved, a gesture Valeria didn’t return. She glanced up at the roof of the cottage, where about a dozen Dead-eyes were tearing at the shingles. It wouldn’t take them long to force their way inside. She wracked one with her goddess’s power, though at this distance it took a few moments to take effect. The creature danced a strange jig on the roof before falling off and crashing to the ground, where it twitched feebly.

  A surge of weariness washed over Valeria. She’d had to use the goddess’s power more than a few times and she was reaching the limit of her abilities. She couldn’t afford to save the women, and perhaps that was Sylva Kalisia’s will. Cherish had proven a barren ground for women suited to following the goddess. They were just too plain and unintelligent. Apart from Shand, who’d tried to hide her contempt for the other women her age, and failed miserably. Valeria wondered briefly where the young woman was during the attack.

  Screams rose from Matron Hazel’s cottage as the Dead-eyes broke through the roof. The stick-limbed creatures tore at the edges of the hole, sending shingles and thin timbers flying. Then they squirmed through and disappeared from sight. Within moments, blood smeared the glass as the Dead-eyes sated their hunger.

  A waste of time, thought Valeria. I shouldn’t have bothered, and just focused on Niklaus.

  She turned her back on the cottage, almost out of energy. She needed to get out of the fray—if she could just get back to the meeting hall until the excitement was over.

  ~ ~ ~

  Razmus shoved his makeshift spear into the open mouth of a Dead-eye. It made a gurgling noise and clawed at the shaft. He twisted and gave the pole another shove, then jerked it back. The Dead-eye fell lifeless to the ground, adding its milky blood to the rest seeping into the earth.

  Around him, the Dead-eyes’ corpses were two and three thick as the brave settlers did their best to weather the savage onslaught. To Razmus’s left stood Drusst and to his right was Uvagen, their shoulders touching as they stood with the settlers and created a wall of spears to repel the Dead-eyes.

  Wild-eyed settlers yelled between gasping breaths. Not used to fighting, let alone mass combat such as this, their nerves were worn thin. But fear held them in place. Fear of dying, and fear of their families being killed.

  “Hold the line!” Razmus shouted. “And hold onto your knives!”

  Each of the settlers held a blade in their right hand, a backup weapon in case any Dead-eyes got close. Where had all the Dead-eyes come from? It wasn’t natural. There had to be at least four tribes fighting together, when usually they kept to their own hunting grounds.

  Dozens of the creatures came at their spear line, shrieking and howling, their sightless eyes somehow able to see, claws tearing at the settlers. One broke through, dodging panicked spear thrusts, and was stabbed with knives before it could do more than take a chunk of flesh from a young man’s leg. Lavst, Razmus realized. Lavst collapsed, creating a break in the spear line.

  “Get him out of there!” shouted Razmus. “Close the line or the Dead-eyes’ll get through!”

  Lavst was dragged clear, and the settlers bunched together to close the gap. Razmus hoped they’d somehow get Lavst to Aldric. But with the chaos the night had quickly descended into, he doubted it.

  More snarling Dead-eyes came at them. Razmus and Drusst and Uvagen thrust their spears again and again and again, piercing chests and guts and throats.

  A despairing cry rose from their left, and Razmus saw t
he line collapse as a wave of Dead-eyes overran the settlers. Neb, who was in charge of the left, was borne to the ground by three Dead-eyes that tore at his head and shoulders with talons and fangs. Men and women fell beneath pale-limbed creatures, who savaged flesh and lapped at the blood.

  “There’s too many,” said Drusst.

  “Fall back!” Razmus ordered. “Put your backs to a wall or we’re all lost.”

  Some of the settlers raised their spears and turned to flee.

  Damnation! “Get those spears back down!” Razmus roared.

  But it was too late.

  A stream of Dead-eyes pelted toward Razmus, limbs flailing. Before he could react, they flowed like a white wave over the terrified settlers.

  Uvagen broke the line and rushed to reinforce them.

  “No!” Razmus shouted.

  Their defensive formation had been broken, and now it was every settler for himself. Uvagen disappeared under countless Dead-eyes, his spear swinging wildly.

  Razmus grabbed Drusst’s arm and shoved him toward a house behind them. “Get as many inside as you can. I’ll hold them off.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!” He gave the big man another heave and turned back to the oncoming Dead-eyes.

  As the first came at him, time seemed to slow. Razmus thrust his spear through its stomach, then tugged his weapon out. Blood spilled along with ichor. But more savage mouths replaced it, each wailing like the damned, baying for flesh to sate their appetites.

  Someone stood at his left, guarding his vulnerable side. The girl, Shand, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

  “Get out of here,” said Razmus.

  “No.”

  Razmus was about to order her to leave when more Dead-eyes attacked. He thrust his spear into them, fighting alongside her. Thrust again. Two more down.

  Razmus stepped to the side and swiped at a Dead-eye that had managed to get close. His shaft connected with its head with a sickening crunch, but as it fell, another latched onto his arm. Needles of pain shot through him as its pointed teeth sank to the bone. His hand lost all feeling and the spear slipped from its grasp. He shoved his knife into its throat, but the Dead-eye wouldn’t let go and dragged him to the ground.

  No. Priska, where is she?

  Agony flared in his leg as another Dead-eye swiped its claws and left three long gashes.

  Gods, where is Priska? Is she safe?

  Razmus saw Shand screaming as Dead-eyes latched onto her arms and legs. Her crimson blood spilled to the earth and she fell.

  Taloned hands held him down as more and more Dead-eyes gnawed at his flesh. Razmus twisted, trying to squirm out of their grasp. To no avail.

  Priska …

  ~ ~ ~

  The creatures still clambered over the barricade, but none rushed toward them. Instead, they split into streams, racing to all parts of the settlement. A yawning pit opened in Aldric’s stomach. He had failed to protect Cherish. He glanced around, desperately seeking a solution, at the same time knowing all was lost.

  They were cut off from the rest of the settlers.

  He saw Razmus disappear under a tide of Dead-eyes before another wave came at him. He defended himself as best he could, using bursts of both dawn-tide and dusk-tide sorcery to protect them all when the avalanche became too much. His reticence to use the dark power had fled when he’d realized he’d failed.

  “More Dead-eyes to kill.” Niklaus laughed. “Neb’s going to be pleased.”

  “Not if he’s dead,” said Bryn, wrenching his blade from a caved-in skull.

  Bryn slipped on viscera, stumbling to one knee. A Dead-eye leaped over him and lunged for Niklaus, its claws raking down the mercenary’s back. Niklaus pivoted, a snarl on his face as he rammed his short blade into the creature’s chest.

  They were going to be overrun, just like Razmus and the spearmen.

  Aldric spoke a cant. Sorcery flared, and a globe surrounded them, pushing back the tide of Dead-eyes enough to give them a moment’s respite.

  Niklaus trod on a Dead-eye’s leg to prevent it scrambling away while Bryn stabbed it through the eye. Bryn bent over his sword, chest heaving, face dripping sweat.

  Stray Dog, Aldric thought frantically. Where is he?

  He saw the big man twenty yards away, batting a Dead-eye aside, trying to keep it away from a corpse on the ground. Alvar, Aldric realized. More Dead-eyes threw themselves at Stray Dog, savaging his flesh.

  All around, pale figures flashed through the night. Shouts and screams filled the air, and many of the houses were alight, casting a wavering orange glow across the settlement. Flickering lights and explosions continued to erupt around the perimeter as Soki and Priska wrought sorcerous destruction. Dead-eyes thudded against Aldric’s ward and almost overcame it. He chanted a cant of strengthening, then tapped into a trickle of his dusk-tide power to maintain the sorcery.

  “Where’s Sokhelle and Priska?” Niklaus shouted. “We need them!”

  “Too far away. They can’t hear us over this noise.” And if he didn’t do something now, Stray Dog would soon be dead. Quashing his fear, Aldric reached for his dusk-tide power and felt its darkness suffuse him. He recalled ancient chants he’d learned from the Evokers but had never dared to use before. Dark power flowed through him, more than he’d ever used. He almost retched at its foul touch.

  He spoke a few words, and a clap of thunder sounded. Dead-eyes flew through the air, emitting shrieks as they crashed to the ground, and their bones shattered. Aldric dropped his wards.

  Niklaus gave a savage laugh, his face and clothes splashed with the creatures’ pale blood. “That’s better!” He rushed toward the mass of Dead-eyes that were brutalizing the settlers.

  Aldric grabbed Bryn, who staggered beside him, almost spent, and they followed Niklaus. The mercenary’s blades were already carving into Dead-eyes. Aldric’s khopesh joined the fray while Bryn guarded their backs. Together, the three of them dispatched Dead-eyes, leaving a scene of devastation.

  Only a few settlers survived, and they had terrible wounds that guaranteed a slow death. One man clamped a hand over his shoulder, his arm hanging by a strip of flesh. A woman crawled across the blood-soaked earth, clothes and skin shredded.

  Razmus lay unmoving, his eyes staring. His throat was gashed open, and his chest was painted scarlet.

  Stray Dog struggled to his feet, his arms and legs a mass of bites and cuts, all dripping blood. Aldric wondered if he would make it through the night. If infection set in to any of those wounds, he was sure to die.

  “Razmus is gone, along with Shand,” Niklaus said, almost gently.

  “Poor guy,” Bryn said. “He’s been unlucky.”

  “I can heal—” began Aldric.

  “There’s no time!” said Niklaus. “You’re no good to us if you keel over. More Dead-eyes are coming.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Gannon ushered Kurio inside the meeting hall when it was clear they faced a horde of Dead-eyes, not just a few dozen. He barred the door, cursing in a language Kurio didn’t recognize.

  She retreated to a corner and heard the sounds of battle outside the building. Howls and screeches of inhuman creatures. Sokhelle and Priska chanting, earsplitting wails of destructive sorcery answering their call. Light flashed through the shutters covering the windows. Aldric shouted orders. Settlers cried out in fear and despair. The clash of steel. The screams of the dying, both human and not.

  Kurio looked at Gannon. He stood deathly still next to the fire in the center of the room, the flames painting him in flickering orange. He had undergone a remarkable transformation of character since turning up right after she’d killed Mellish. He was still suave and charming, but there was a coldness underneath. Perhaps it was because of their situation, out here in the harsh wilderness, caught up in this group’s difficulties.

  “There are too many,” Kurio said to him. “We should find somewhere to hide.” She rechecked her crossbow, making sure both quarrels were ready to be fired.
Was this how it ended? She wanted to go to Gannon, to wrap her arms around him, rest her head against his armored chest, tell him that she loved him. But there was a hardness to him that kept her away: clenched fists, feet set wide apart, face like a thunderstorm.

  He’d followed her into the wilderness to save her, and now he was likely going to die. No wonder he was angry.

  Gannon turned his eyes on her and his expression softened. “Kurio,” he said, “what’s the matter?”

  “I’ve killed us,” she replied. “If it wasn’t for me—”

  “Nonsense. There is a way out of this, I’m sure. Now please leave me to think.” Gannon removed a slender silver rod from a pocket and traced lines in the air, as if drawing symbols. He began to speak, strange words in a guttural tongue that made Kurio think of savagery and despair.

  Sorcery? “What are you—”

  “Shush. A few moments and I’ll be finished.”

  Kurio shook her head. Gannon was a sorcerer? Or was the wand an artifact that gave him power? She retreated a step. What had happened? This man, she remembered loving him, but the feeling was rapidly dissipating like fog under the morning sun. She blinked, trying to make the miasma surrounding her thoughts disappear faster. Her breathing grew difficult. Now she saw him in a different light. He looked soiled.

  Then clarity struck her to her soul. Her abnormal infatuation. Her unnatural trust.

  Nausea filled her. She coughed and almost retched as her mouth filled with sour spit.

  She had been tricked. Beguiled into subservience. Gannon had suborned her free will, made a slave of her desires, altered her memories. He didn’t love her any more than she loved him. She pointed her crossbow at him. Hesitated. She wanted him to see—

  Then abruptly she felt them. Outside the hall, somewhere. She swayed, then stumbled, head spinning. Multiple calls tugged at her mind, her heart. What were they?

  She blinked again and reached out a hand to a wall to steady herself. Gannon. She’d been thinking about Gannon. His betrayal. Suddenly she feared him.