A flash of light blinded him. When his vision returned, the snow and ash were gone, replaced by dragonflies and mimic gnats darting about atop a sea of windswept willows.
“My artist,” a voice said behind him.
He turned.
Milane stood a few footfalls away, naked and grinning in that knowing way she had. “Are you going to just sit there all day or are you going to fuck me?”
Haliden stood and took a step toward her. But his foot sank into the ground, anchoring him in place.
Milane threw her hair back and laughed. “Always keeping me waiting, Haliden. Always wanting more. Well, two can play that game.” She turned and began walking into the distance.
“Come find me, Stroke,” she whispered over her shoulder. “At world’s end, find me… if you can.”
Haliden tried to shout, but nothing would come out.
And then he realized why.
Something was covering his mouth. Something hairy.
“Lift!” someone shouted.
Haliden’s world went black as a foul stench enveloped him. Pressure then mounted atop his chest and something hairy pressed against his face.
“Again, fool, lift!”
Gray light cut through the darkness, blinding him. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw a man standing at the mouth of a hairy cave.
“Can you move?” the silhouette shouted.
Haliden coughed. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
The man laughed as he extended his hand. “Two steps from the hells unless you crawl your ass outta there.”
Haliden reached up and took his hand. Moments later, daylight washed over him as the trapper dragged him back into the world.
“Is he okay?” a familiar voice asked.
Haliden squinted against the day’s gray light. The trapper stood over him, a smile on his weathered face.
“By the gods’ grace, he is,” Gremin replied. “But who the fuck knows how.”
Evetner stood a few footfalls away beside a hulking mass of fur. Flies were everywhere, buzzing and dancing as they worked their way into the felltower’s dead flesh.
“What in the hells happened?” Haliden asked.
“You startled the damned herd with that crap shot of yours,” the trapper said, laughing. “Killed that verax, though.” He lifted what looked like a set of ears. “Here. Took a good luck charm for you.” He tossed the pair onto Haliden’s lap.
Haliden looked down at them. They were covered in black fur that tapered into a sharp, six inch point. A chill danced down his spine. Until now, he didn’t even think the beasts existed.
“I believe these are yours,” Gremin said, handing the Tritan bow and quiver to Haliden.
Haliden nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. We still got work needs doing.”
Haliden scanned the area. Not a single creature stirred atop the charred landscape. “Have you seen anything else?”
The trapper laughed. “Sure. Fire. And lots of it, too. And I’m sure we’ll run into more of our furry friends as we get closer to the Block.”
“Come on then,” Evetner said, driving his sword deep into the felltower’s back. “Let’s skin this thing and be on our way.”
24
The hide stretched the length of both wagons, pieces of wet fat and flesh swaying beneath it as the dogs carried them across the ashen landscape.
Haliden swallowed back bile as he examined their grisly masterpiece. Preparing it had been backbreaking work and now all three men sat silent in its shadow, covered head-to-toe in blood and fur.
Jonathan pinched his nose as he stared up at a particularly large piece of dangling fat. “It smells awful,” he said.
Gremin chuckled. “Be glad we didn’t use a strider or grandem hog. Damn things smell so bad I’ve seen seasoned trappers pass out in their midst.”
Outside, the punchers ran in silence. Gremin had placed the severed felltower head at the front of the lead wagon, and its hulking presence did little to ease their rattled nerves.
“Ever see a headless felltower walking about?” the trapper had said after Evetner complained. “Verax ain’t as stupid as you might think.”
Jonathan and Brandon huddled nervously around an eterna lamp they found in one of the crates. “Are more of those things out there?” the older brother asked.
Haliden sat down beside them. “If there are they won’t bother us again.”
Jonathan looked at his quiver. “There’s only ten left, though. What happens when they’re all gone?”
“We’ll just have to make every shot count, right?”
Jonathan nodded.
“We’ll be okay,” Haliden said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “With that scope I could hit an apple off a coon’s s head from a league away.”
Evetner climbed to the front of the wagon and peered through the felltower’s severed throat. “We’re getting close now.”
Gremin knelt beside him. “Dogs got the scent of other runners. They’ll take us right in.”
“You sure?” Evetner asked.
“Sure as shit. Nothing left for them but the Block now. Wind’s pushing every other scent forward.”
Within the call, they caught up with a scattering of sick and elderly deer and swamp ox. But nothing more.
“Where are all the runners?” Evetner asked.
Gremin sat back and lit an adreena stub. As he exhaled, the smoke curled out through the felltower’s severed throat. “Don’t know. And that’s what worries me.”
Haliden knelt beside Evetner and peered outside. The landscape was flat and scorched; a few scraggly bushes and patches of fireweed grew here and there, but nothing more. “This is what the rest of Alimane will look like?”
“I’d wager worse,” Evetner said, his voice sullen.
Jonathan climbed up beside them and stared at the dogs. “Are they safe out there?”
Gremin nodded. “Verax won’t come near us as long they think we’re a felltower. They’re what you call mortal enemies, child. Like cats and dogs.”
Just then a roar echoed in the east, followed by a high pitched scream.
“What the hells was that?” Evetner asked.
Gremin pushed Haliden aside and stuck his head through the throat. “Shit!”
There was another scream, followed by a chorus of shouting. Moments later, something pounded against the hide.
The punchers broke into a sprint, jarring the wagons as their harness snapped taut.
“Runners?” Haliden shouted.
Gremin nodded. “And more than I can count.”
More shouts broke out on the right side of the wagon.
“Let us in!” a voice cried. “Stop! For the sake of the gods!”
Haliden lifted the hide.
Dozens of men and women were running toward them across the plain. Most had only the clothes on their backs, but a few were pulling horse-drawn carts and wagons.
Haliden’s stomach turned as they began passing bodies. A few looked as if they had been trampled. But some were torn to pieces.
“Watch out!” someone cried.
Several black forms bounded through the exodus, slashing and biting anyone in their path.
“By the gods! Those things are everywhere!” Haliden cried.
“Shut that fucking flap!” Gremin growled. “Won’t keep nothing away if them verax see your stupid face!”
Jonathan and Brandon shuffled deep into their crate bunker. “Why don’t we help them?” the older boy cried.
Gremin shook his head. “Too many. They’ll only swamp us.”
Haliden reached for his bow, but Gremin quickly pushed him back. “You shoot any of those things and our little costume party ends, artist!”
“We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“You lift that hide and we’re dead men! Them boys too!”
Haliden glanced at Evetner, who had his sword raised and ready.
“You said you’re your father�
��s son, right?” Haliden asked.
Evetner nodded.
“Then you’re with me?”
“Of course.”
Gremin spat. “You’re a bunch of fucking fools! Those things will cut through us like butter!”
Haliden pushed past him and approached the Throat.
Gremin spun around and leveled his sword at the artist’s chest. “You’ll kill us all, is that it? Just to give hope where there is none?”
Haliden stared at the sword’s rusty tip. “I’ve enough guilt to bare already. I won’t carry any more to the Block. Kill me if you must, but I won’t sit here and do nothing.”
“You’re mad!” Gremin shouted. “The both of you!”
Haliden turned back to the Throat.
A woman was running alongside them, her hands outstretched toward
the railing. “Help!” she pleaded.
Evetner tore the hide open. “To hells with you, trapper!”
The woman stumbled alongside them, struggling to keep up.
“Give me your hand!” Evetner shouted.
She grabbed the railing with one hand and reached for him with the other. “Help!” she screamed as the wagon began dragging her.
Haliden pushed past the trapper and leaned over the railing. “Give me your other hand!”
A verax was ten or fifteen footfalls behind her, its dead, white eyes wide with excitement as it closed in.
“On three,” Evetner shouted. “One… two…”
The verax lunged forward, grabbing both of her legs.
“Shit!” Haliden cried.
Gremin picked up the Tritan bow and took aim.
“For the sake of the gods! Kill it!” the woman screamed as it tore her ankles apart.
The trapper pushed the scope aside and fired.
The arrow punctured the beast’s forehead, but its dead white eyes widened further with feral rage.
“Get it off me!”
Gremin fired again. This time the shaft burrowed into its left eye, but the verax roared even louder
Jonathan pushed past the trapper, two eterna lamps clutched in his shaking hands.
“Get back, boy!” Gremin cried.
Jonathan ignored him and tossed one of the lamps at the verax’s head. The fragile glass shattered, coating the beast in blinding white liquid.
The verax wailed, releasing one of the woman’s legs.
“I’ll be damned!” Gremin cried.
Jonathan quickly tossed the remaining lamp at the beast’s right shoulder, coating its neck and back with the boiling hot chemical.
The verax yelped before finally releasing the woman and tumbling to the ground.
Evetner and Haliden quickly dragged the semiconscious woman into the wagon.
“Well, did you get what you wanted?” Gremin shouted as he pulled the hide back into place.
The woman lay moaning atop the rattling floorboards, blood pulsing from her shredded ankles. “Thank you, thank you,” she breathed.
Evetner hacked two strips from a blanket and tied them around her mutilated ankles.
“By the gods,” Haliden breathed. Blood covered his hands and chest, and the floorboards were slick with gore. “Those things…”
“Devils,” Gremin spat. “And mark my word, more will be coming now.”
Evetner placed a folded blanket beneath the woman’s head. She was young, no more than twenty turns, with deep blue eyes and hair like spun gold. “Th-thank you,” she repeated.
Jonathan and Brandon stood a few footfalls away, staring at what remained of her ankles.
Haliden snapped his fingers at them. “Go sit by the trapper. Now!”
The brothers quickly obeyed.
“What’s your name?” Haliden asked.
The woman looked deep into his eyes. “Loraine. L-Loraine Cobwell.”
Haliden smiled. “And where are you from, Loraine?”
She swallowed back tears. “A-Ash Port.”
“Ah! A coastal girl. I visited there many times. Beautiful place. And now I know it has beautiful women, too.”
She forced a smile.
Evetner tied another strip around her left ankle, but the blood quickly soaked through the fabric. He glanced at Haliden and shook his head.
Bloody fucking mess, Haliden thought. All of this!
More screams echoed outside, followed by the telltale snarl of hunting verax.
“How many more are out there?” Haliden asked.
Gremin peeked through the felltower’s throat. “A dozen. Maybe more,” he replied. “I swear, I’ve never seen the like.”
Haliden stepped beside him and gazed outside. Two massive cliffs rose in the distance, a twenty footfall tall palisade cradled between them.
“Guards of the Stretch?” he asked.
Gremin nodded. “And they ain’t no friends of ours.”
The massive palisade was wrought of rusted steel plates and petrified tree trunks. Guarding either side of it were two enormous towers manned by at least twelve guards apiece.
“But we’re runners!” Haliden shouted. “They have to let us through.”
“Take a look out there, fool,” Gremin said. “They’re not gonna be checking for brands or pendants with all these refugees banging on their gate. They’ll be shooting as many of us desperate fuckers as they can so we don’t overwhelm them.”
Haliden picked up the Tritan bow and stared through scope. A mob was already collecting at the base of the gate, a violent tide swelling and shouting even as the guards peppered them with quarrels.
“How in the hells do we get through that?”
“You shoot well artist, that’s how. I’ll make a path with the wagons. You deal with the guards in those towers.”
Evetner tightened his chest plate. “What of me?”
“You just keep them off us,” Gremin said. “If we get swamped they’ll rip us to pieces.”
The punchers ran faster as refugees clawed at the sides of the wagon. Those who managed to grab the railing were either dragged along for a handful of footfalls, or crushed beneath the wheels.
Haliden glanced at the clifftops. Dozens of silhouettes were running across the them: men, women, children, dogs, deer. One man tumbled over the edge, screaming as he crashed into the mob below.
“Fools!” Gremin said. “There’s nothing but a hundred footfall drop on either side.”
The wagon slowed as the crush of bodies engulfed them.
Haliden bent down and stared through the felltower throat. The punchers were barely visible amongst the teeming throngs.
“We’ll never reach the gate like this!” he shouted.
A tall silhouette approached the edge of the western cliff, arms outstretched to the sky.
“Looks like our first jumper,” Gremin said. “Fucking coward.”
The silhouette raised its arms to the sky in a gesture of supplication. Moments later, a guttural voice echoed across the plain.
“What in the hells is that?” Haliden asked.
Gremin chuckled. “Well I’ll be damned!”
“What?”
Gremin grabbed the bow from Haliden and pressed the scope to his eye. “That there fool is laying an elemental.”
“A charger?” Haliden asked.
Gremin nodded. “But not for long. Look!”
A hundred footfalls to the south a verax was bounding up the cliff, slashing at anyone in its path.
Haliden took the bow back and quickly nocked an arrow.
“What in the hells are you doing, artist?”
Haliden watched and waited as the scope stabilized the image. He could see everything now: the faces, the tears, the horror. Dozens of men, women, and children running frantically toward certain death.
When he found the verax, he leveled the crosshairs across its back and took a deep breath.
One shot… That’s all I’ll get.
The beast closed in on the charger, it’s gnarled mouth agape.
Concentrate. Concentrate
.
He loosed.
In the blink of an eye, the arrow traversed the sixth-league to its target and slammed into the creature’s side.
“By the gods, artist!” Evetner shouted as the verax tumbled off the cliff.
Gremin laughed. “Well done. But I hope you got a lot more in that quiver.” He pointed at the towers, from which dozens of guards loosed bolts into the mob.
Haliden took another deep breath and raised the bow.
Six guards armed with crossbows and long bows stood atop the western tower.
“Best shoot now and have feelings about it later!” Gremin shouted.
Haliden glanced over his shoulder at the brothers. Both were huddled beside Evetner, their faces white and eyes wide.
“Why aren’t they letting us through?” Jonathan asked.
“They will,” Haliden replied. He turned back to the tower and fired.
The arrow pierced the tallest guard’s forehead, pinning him to one of the tower walls.
He fired again, hitting another guard in the right temple.
His third shot skewered a man’s throat, but the poor soul didn’t die. Instead, he staggered about like a drunkard, desperately clawing at the arrow shaft as blood pulsed down his neck.
Haliden swallowed, drew back, and fired again. He continued this way for what felt like an eternity, shooting and moving on to the next target without waiting to see if he hit his mark.
And finally, when there were no more men left to kill in the western tower, he turned toward the easterly tower and began the process all over again.
When it was finally over, twenty-five men lay dead or dying atop both towers.
What have I done? he thought.
The mob surged against the palisade, howling and screaming as the gates burst inward.
“Dre Amon!” Gremin shouted.
The dogs lunged forward, snapping and snarling at anyone in their path.
Haliden tossed the bow down and knelt beside the woman. She lay where he had left her, but her eyes were wide and lifeless.
“Damn it all to the hells,” he whispered.
Brandon and Jonathan watched in confusion, tears trickling down their ash-covered faces.
“Is she okay?” Jonathan asked.
Eventer grabbed a sheet and covered her body. “Her pain is over now, boys.”
Disheartened, Haliden crawled to the severed throat and peered outside. The Block loomed a sixth-league in the distance, a colossal granite wall with one sole entrance at its base.
Haliden's Fire Page 23