defense just before dawn. But when the sun finally did break the horizon, the sounds of battle died away, and were replaced by shouts and screams of utter terror. The battle resumed then, but it wasn’t Westlander against Valleyan anymore. It was the dead against the living. The corpses were rising and engaging those still alive with a jealous fervor.
Dead horses stampeded through the streets, and broken bodied soldiers limped, or crawled with determined expressions on their faces, each trying to kill or maim the living men that mocked them. Before long, only the dead and the undead could be found in the red city of Dreen, and they were all forming up, following the orders of Lord Brach, to begin the long march directly to Xwarda.
A few men made it out of Dreen alive. One of them was King Jarrek’s elite Redwolf guardsman, Brady Culvert. Wearing his red plate armor like a shroud, the son of Marshal Culvert had warned King Broderick of the coming of Westland’s forces, then dutifully stayed on to lend his sword.
He fought beside the Valleyan soldiers all night long, but when dawn broke, and the dead started rising, it was every man for himself. He battled like a cornered animal and eventually won free of the encroaching death, and wild necromancy that was taking place inside the walls of Dreen. He had witnessed firsthand the awakening of the dead, and now found himself terrified and fleeing eastward ahead of them, as fast as his still living horse could carry him.
The idea that the evil force, that had destroyed his homeland could have grown stronger, was beyond the grasp of his reason, but it had. These soldiers couldn’t be killed, because they were already dead. They probably wouldn’t need rest or food, and they would fight on mindlessly, while arrows and steel tore apart their lifeless flesh. What was worse was that they were going to Xwarda next.
Knowing that was where King Jarrek had gone to seek aid gave Brady reason enough to get there and warn them. He would warn those along the way as well. As much as he wanted to put his steel to use against them, he understood that it would be a waste of effort. He had to get to Xwarda and give testimony to the insane magnitude of the evil that followed him. He only hoped that he could stay ahead of the undead army, and if he could get to Xwarda in time, that they wouldn’t think him a lunatic for his tale.
Chapter 46
“How far away is it, Hyden Hawk?” asked Vaegon.
“Not very far,” Hyden answered grimly.
Grrr’s hackles rose and he darted into the thicket, beneath the forest canopy at the northern edge of their camp. He growled, and then peeled into a series of savage barks. The other wolves wasted no time going to him.
“Someone – no – a group of people approaches,” Hyden spoke the feelings that Grrr’s warning conveyed to him and the wolf pack.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, then the sound of jangling tack, and the nervous whinny of a horse, come to his ears. Oddly, Hyden heard Grrr’s growling tail off into a whimper of confusion, before it ceased all together.
A pair of riders moved confidently out of the trees. Another was behind them, and two more followed. The camp was so crowded by then, that the last two men had to stop more in the trees than in the clearing.
The person in the middle of the other four was a woman. She was draped in glittering chain mail, which was belted at the waist with a large, steel-plated girdle. She wore no helmet. It was dangling from her saddle horn. Her hair was in a long, fat yellow braid that trailed over her shoulder and ended somewhere near her bosom. She wasn’t young, but was far from being considered old. It was hard to say, but she was probably quite shapely under all that armor, at least Hyden thought so. Her fair-skinned face was probably beautiful as well, but her narrow-browed scowl was hiding its potential. She looked to be the one in command, sitting atop her gray horse, with its fancy cropped mane and even fancier saddlery.
The four men with her were rugged looking. The two in front were cloaked, and dressed in uniform leather woodsman’s attire, all shades of gray, brown, and green. Their bows were drawn. One had an arrow trained on Vaegon. The other had his pointing at Hyden’s heart.
The two men behind the woman were armored as well as she was, though theirs was in far worse condition, as if it had been put to its proper use on more than one occasion. They wore their helmets with the visors up, and though they were crowded, and still mostly in the forest, neither seemed to be worried about it affecting the swing of their drawn blades.
Besides feeling the full anticipation of the coming dark-winged creature he had just seen through Talon’s vision, Hyden was aware that the wolves were completely silent, and nowhere to be seen.
“Where are my white furred friends?” he asked sharply. His bow was drawn, and held as steady as the other men’s, but his arrow was aimed at the woman’s heart.
She spoke a strange word, and snapped her fingers. Instantly, Grrr’s whine of confusion seemed to start from halfway through. Then, the wolves were leaping back into the camp, taking on aggressive stances, and growling savagely at the intruders. By the amount of distance Grrr kept from them, it was obvious that he was wary. His feelings were conveyed to the other wolves by his posture. More than once, he glanced at Hyden for some indication of what he should do.
“You picked a bad time to come upon us lady,” Mikahl said, with polite urgency. His face was a study in raw emotion. “Some dark and deadly beast approaches our camp as we speak.”
“A trick!” One of the leather clad men up front barked.
“Just like them little buggers,” agreed the other.
“Silence, rangers!” the lady commanded. Then to Mikahl, in the same demanding tone, “Why are you here? It isn’t wise to sneak into a kingdom that is under attack. Willa the Witch won’t be pleased by your trespass. You don’t look like Valleyans, or Seawardsmen, for that matter, and you travel with wolves and an elf. Who do you align with?”
Turning to face Vaegon, she asked, “What do these human’s affairs concern you?”
“M’lady, on my word of honor, we can parley later,” Mikahl said quickly.
His grasp on Ironspike’s hilt had tightened, but he didn’t draw the blade for fear of the rangers’ arrows that were aimed at his friends. Through his grip, he could feel the magic warning him of the fast approaching danger.
“This is no place for you or your men. There is -”
The shadow of the Choska demon passed over them then, three full heartbeats of shadowed eclipse. The woman started to give a command, but her horse tramped sideways nervously, and the air filled with a high pitched wailing shriek.
Vaegon fell to his knees, and clasped his hands over his ultra sensitive ears. Mikahl pushed Hyden to the side, and drew Ironspike. The ranger in front of Vaegon almost loosed his arrow, but showed great restraint by thinking better of it. Ironspike’s glow wasn’t bright or radiant, but it was visible. A sword with only blue light where its steel blade should be, apparently warranted his discretion.
“Get the lady clear of here, man!” Mikahl yelled over the horrible shrieking sound. “It is no ordinary beast that comes for me.”
Hyden closed his eyes, and found Talon’s vision. The hawkling was still circling high overhead, and it was clear that the winged monster had come around, and was diving in for its attack. Hyden whirled, and loosed an arrow at the open sky above the trees at the edge of the clearing, earning a snort of disgust from one of the rangers. The snort turned into a gasp of terror, when the Choska demon came streaking over the treetops, and met the missile. The steel point stuck deeply into the dark furred flesh of the Choska demon, but it showed no concern. Hair flew about wildly, and swirls of leaves and debris leapt from the ground, as the beast slammed into a hover, on powerful, thumping wing beats.
The huge, horn-helmed rider on the Choska’s back leaned over and slashed with his long two-handed blade. He held it in only one hand, as if it weighed nothing. One of the rangers cursed, loosed his arrow, and tried to duck away from the slicing steel. He wasn’t fast enough. His body, cleaved from collarbone to abdomen, twisted sickeningly out of the saddle. The woman did well to spur herself clear of the Choska’s dangling claws while
