Plague of Shadows

by Michael Wisehart

  “Don’t make a sound,” he said, aware that the statement was somewhat wasted on the girl. Her face was nearly as pale as the white-skinned women, and it was clear she was too in shock to speak.

  He left her in the protection of the wagon and drew his second blade. Men, women, and children in colorful garb littered the ground. The horrific black-eyed crazies were all over them. Are they eating them? Ayrion shivered. Most of the half-human creatures were too busy gorging to spare him a moment’s notice.

  He spotted a large group of the white crazies gathering on the far-left side of the camp. They were circled around what looked like one of the last remaining Nathillians. He was a big man, dressed from head to toe in thick furs, with a long-handled hatchet in each hand. By the accuracy of his blows, he knew how to use them. But there were just too many, and these people clearly had no fear of death.

  Ayrion raced across the open ground toward the lone defender, trying his best to dodge the fallen bodies while lopping off the heads and arms of those feeding on them. Up ahead, the crazies pressed even harder, some fighting each other in an effort to reach the fur-covered man. The man roared and buried one hatchet in the top of a head while using the second to fend off a couple of women who were trying to sink their teeth into his arm.

  Ayrion fought to reach him. He hit the rear flank of the half-human creatures and gave himself over to his swords. His arms moved the blades through the air with pinpoint accuracy, chopping down pale-skinned crazies with every swing. He had to keep telling himself that these weren’t people he was killing. They were something else, something inhuman.

  He cut a path all the way to the man, and together, they fought back to back against the white horde.

  A bald, white-skinned boy, small enough to wiggle through the crowd, stabbed the big fur-skinned man in the side. The man yelled, and the boy’s pitch-black eyes seemed to grow excited.

  Ayrion turned to knock the boy away, but not before the injured man spun around and smashed the flat end of one of his hatchets across the side of the boy’s face. The boy bounced off a couple of the others and hit the dirt. His head sat at a funny angle.

  Even knowing what the child was, it was hard to watch, but Ayrion didn’t have time to think about it. He stabbed one crazy in the neck and opened the front of another. Ayrion kept his blades swinging until there wasn’t anything left to swing at.

  Soon, the clearing was quiet. Deathly quiet. The stillness was unsettling.

  Ayrion pulled his sword from the last victim and helped the wounded man over to one of the cooking fires. He propped him against a bench and laid his blood-soaked swords on top. “I need to stop the bleeding,” he said as he turned the man over on his side. Ayrion removed his own coat and ripped off one of the sleeves from his tunic and pressed it against the man’s wound. “The name’s Ayrion. I’m traveling with a healer. I’m sure she can fix this up in no time.”

  The man gritted his teeth and nodded. “I’m Bek.”

  “What happened here?” Ayrion looked at the carnage and hoped Tameel was smart enough to keep Taylis away. “Who attacked your people?”

  Bek grunted under the pain. “They aren’t my people.”

  “Oh. Were you traveling with them?”

  “I wasn’t with them at all,” Bek said as he turned and pointed at the pieces of bodies strewn in the wake of Ayrion’s swords. “Those are my people.”

  “What?” Perhaps the loss of blood had affected the man’s head. “Those maniacs are your people? They were trying to kill you.”

  Bek grunted, his breath shallow.

  Ayrion heard the rustle of approaching steps. Grabbing one of his swords from the table, he spun, stopping just shy of Zynora’s wrinkled neck.

  A small wheeze escaped her lips as her eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t . . . Why are you here? I told you to wait for me to come get you when it was safe.”

  She clicked her tongue at him and knelt to look at Bek’s injury. “I came to tend to the wounded.”

  “Unarmed? What if we’d still been fighting?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He looked back at the trailhead. “You didn’t bring Taylis, did you?”

  “What do you take me for? He’s with Tameel back at the wagon.” She pulled back the blood-soaked cloth on the trapper’s side to get a better look. “Hmm. I’ve seen worse.”

  Ayrion scanned the mutilated bodies covering the rovers’ camp and sighed. “I don’t think I have.”

  Chapter 22 | Ayrion

  AYRION LEFT ZYNORA to her work. Bek was in too much pain to answer questions, so Ayrion made his way around the rover camp, looking for signs of survivors, though the bodies were so mutilated, he doubted there would be any. The pungent smell of death filled his nostrils, dampened only by smoke from the cooking fires. He passed one colorfully clad body after another, watching closely for the faintest movement that might indicate life.

  He found none.

  After finishing a quick walkthrough, he began searching the wagons. He opened the back of a bright yellow one, and something wrapped around his leg. He jumped back, reaching for his sword. Looking down, he found himself staring into the wide, teary eyes of the little girl he had saved earlier. In all the chaos, he had forgotten about the child.

  She clung to him like a tinker to his purse strings. Finally prying her loose, he knelt. “What’s your name?”

  The little girl pushed past his arms and attached herself to his neck. “Marissa.”

  “Marissa. That’s a pretty name.” She started to whimper. “There’s no need to cry,” he said as he patted her on the back, then realized how ridiculous that statement was. There wasn’t a soul in Aldor who had better reason. She buried her face against the side of his neck. “You’re safe now,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He could feel her relax as he scooped her up and continued his search through the wagons. Their contents were similar: cots on the sides for beds, open plank shelves for storage, sparse decorations, not too unlike Tameel and Zynora’s wagon, Ol’ Lera.

  On both ends of the encampment, the Nathillians had set up corrals for the horses and some smaller livestock they had brought with them, including goats, pigs, and a few sheep, which were busy bleating out their fear. Ayrion couldn’t blame them. One look at the horrific carnage covering the camp had him nauseous as well. He would have preferred to stick Marissa inside one of the wagons if he thought she’d actually stay, but based on the way she was clinging to his neck, he doubted it.

  Heading back to where Zynora was working on Bek, Ayrion stopped to look at another group of rovers: a woman and what must have been her three children. He pushed the oldest boy off to check the ones underneath.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Zynora said, heading in their direction. “Don’t touch them!”

  Ayrion stood and took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  “These people might have cholera. How many have you touched?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She raised a corked bottle. “Give me your hands.”

  He held them out for her to inspect, but instead of looking at them, she pulled the stopper and emptied half the bottle on them.

  The clear liquid burned his nose. “What is it?”

  “Wipe,” Zynora barked. “It’s musca. Also known as snake venom. A concoction distilled specifically by the Nathillian for sealing bargains. Trust me, not something you ever want to drink yourself.”

  “Is cholera really that catching?”

  “Not generally. It usually comes from drinking bad water, or eating food grown from bad water. But you can’t be too careful.”

  Ayrion nodded, making sure to wipe every inch of his hands with the strong-smelling liquid.

  “Anyway, we’ll need to make sure to empty and clean the water barrels, as well as get rid of any fresh fruits and vegetables.” She turned and looked at the little girl. “And who d
o we have here?” she asked, lightly stroking the back of the girl’s disheveled brown curls. She mumbled something under her breath, and her hand glowed a pale lavender, sending streaks of the faint light down into the child’s body.

  Marissa stiffened at first, then released a heavy sigh.

  “This is Marissa,” Ayrion said.

  “I’m going to need to clean you as well, Marissa.” It took a while, but she finally managed to coax the little girl away from Ayrion long enough to wash any open skin. “We’ll have to do a more thorough cleaning later.” Zynora stopped to look at the camp. “We need to burn these bodies, and quickly.”

  “Why didn’t they put up a stronger fight?” Ayrion asked. “Was it the sickness?”

  “No.” Zynora shook her head. “The Nathillian don’t believe in violence. They believe all manner of fighting is unjustified, one reason why they get taken advantage of so often. They believe the Great Father created them to be an example to the rest of the world of how to live in peace.”

  Ayrion looked down at the little girl holding tight to his leg. “A worthy goal if we lived in a world where everyone believed the same, and evil didn’t exist.”

  Zynora shrugged. “Who am I to judge? The Dar’Rhivanni are cousins to the Nathillian. We hold to many of the same beliefs. Although if someone tries to—”

  “Mama!”

  Ayrion and Zynora turned.

  Somehow, Taylis had gotten away from Tameel and was now running across the camp, heading straight for a red-and-gold-painted wagon near the back.

  “What’s he doing here?” Zynora said.

  “Here,” Ayrion said. “Take her.” He unhooked Marissa’s arms and raced after Taylis, trying to head him off before he saw something he would never forget.

  Taylis tripped on one of the white-skinned people and screamed when he saw what it was. Quickly, he hopped to his feet and started running again, but not before Ayrion grabbed him.

  The boy shrieked, kicking out as he fought to break free. “No! Let me go! Let me go! Mama!”

  His mother’s body was sitting against the front wagon wheel, surprisingly untouched. She didn’t appear to have been brutalized like many of the others. As peaceful as she seemed, she must have succumbed to the illness before the townsfolk had shown up. “Your mother may have cholera, Taylis. You can’t touch her.” For all Ayrion knew, the boy had it too, though right now, neither he nor Marissa were showing any signs.

  “I was too late,” Taylis cried, head slumped forward. “I should have been faster. It’s my fault. She’s dead because I was too slow.”

  Ayrion knelt beside the boy. “None of this is your fault, Taylis. There was nothing you could have done to stop the madness that happened here. You did what your mother asked. If she hadn’t sent you away, you would have died here with the others. She saved your life.”

  “Why did they attack us? What did they want?”

  Ayrion didn’t have an answer. There was no sensible reason for the slaughter, but how do you tell a grieving child that his mother died for no apparent reason?

  “Let me see him,” Zynora said, walking over with Marissa clinging to her skirt. As soon as they were close enough, Marissa released her grip and rushed for Ayrion’s leg.

  Ayrion was thankful for the interruption and let go of the boy long enough for Zynora to wash him down, picking Marissa up in the process.

  “Is that musca?” Taylis asked.

  Zynora nodded.

  “Mama always said I was never to drink it.”

  Zynora smiled. “Your mother was a very wise woman.” Zynora rubbed the back of Taylis’s head, mumbling the same incantation she had with Marissa. Her hand glowed faintly for a moment, sending small traces of magic down through the boy. She looked up at Ayrion and nodded.

  Ayrion turned at the sound of Ol’ Lera rolling into camp.

  “Whoa, there.” Tameel pulled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop on the outskirts of the clearing. “By thunder!” The old man gasped as he rose from his seat. “What in darkness happened here?” He dropped the reins and climbed down. “What are those?” Tameel asked, pointing at one of the half-naked white people.

  “That’s a good question,” Ayrion said, walking back toward the center of camp where he had left Bek. They needed answers.

  Tameel quickly tied off the horses and headed to join them.

  “Can someone please explain to me why I’m not seeing a camp full of sick people but the aftermath of a flaming massacre?”

  When they reached Bek, Tameel took a step forward and extended his hand, then saw Bek’s were covered in blood and changed his mind. “And what is your name, sir? I hope you accept our sincerest sympathies for your loss.”

  The gruff-looking woodsman nodded, but there seemed to be a faraway look in his eyes—shock, most likely. “My name’s Bek, and like I was telling the swordsman here, I’m not a rover. I’m from Belvin.”

  “Belvin. Yes, nice town, Belvin. The wife and I have traded there a time or two. The people seemed friendly enough.” Tameel’s smile faded when he noticed the others weren’t smiling as well. “So, do we have any idea what in the flaming Pits those white-skinned monsters are?”

  Zynora cleared her throat. “That would be the friendly folk from Belvin, dear.”

  Tameel’s mouth hung open. For once the old man was without words. “Oh. Well, I, uh . . .” He glanced around at the bodies, then back at Bek. “What happened to them?”

  “Start from the beginning,” Zynora said, motioning for Tameel to sit on one of the benches.

  Ayrion, Taylis, and Marissa joined them.

  Bek laid his hatchets on the ground at his feet. “When I returned from checking my traps upriver two days back, I knew something was off. Kids weren’t in school, parents weren’t at work, no one was shopping in the square. In fact, most the town seemed to be staying indoors. It was like they were afraid of the light. But once the sun went down, they started coming out. And they were different.”

  “How so?” Tameel asked.

  “The smallest thing would set them off. People who had been friends for years were suddenly enemies, parents screaming at their kids, kids yelling at their parents when they weren’t yelling at each other.

  “That’s when I noticed other changes. Physical ones. Their eyes were darkening. Pretty soon, they were black as coal. It was like they were dead inside, a hollow shell of what they used to be, replaced with some kind of . . . darkness.”

  No one said a word. Ayrion was having a hard time believing what he was hearing. If not for seeing the aftermath for himself, he’d have written the man off as deranged.

  “And it wasn’t limited to just those in town,” he said. “My wife and I live outside of Belvin, and by the time I made it home, she had begun to change as well.”

  “Oh, in what way?” Tameel asked.

  “For one, she tried to kill me with a garden hoe when I asked her how she was feeling.”

  “Were there any other changes?” Zynora asked.

  “At the time, no. But now look at them,” he said, pointing at the nearest bodies. “They don’t even look human.”

  “What happened to her?” Ayrion asked.

  “My wife?”

  He nodded.

  “I knocked her out and tied her up inside the house.”

  “How did you end up with the rovers?”

  “They were just leaving Belvin when I was returning from my traps. I passed them as they were heading out of town. Once the changes started taking place, I figured I’d come out and see if the same thing was happening to them, or if . . .” He shot Taylis and Marissa an embarrassed look. “Or if they somehow had something to do with it.”

  “Clearly, they didn’t,” Ayrion said.

  “No. But when I told them what was happening, they didn’t take me seriously. I’m sure I sounded like a lunatic. Besides, they were already dealing with some kind of sickness when I got here. It wasn’t until the screaming started that they reali
zed I’d been speaking the truth, but by then . . .” The big trapper shook his head.

  Zynora stood and handed Taylis off to Tameel.

  “Where are you going?” Tameel asked.

  “I’m going to check the rest of the rovers, and then we are going to burn the bodies before going into town.”

  “Into town?” Tameel stood and started after her, dragging Taylis along with him. “Are you mad? Why would we be going into town? Need I remind you that’s where these creatures came from?”

  Ayrion held Marissa in his arms as he followed the older couple across the camp toward the far-right side, Bek just a few steps behind.

  “I believe the safest course of action, dear, would be to get ourselves out of here,” Tameel said, a slight tremor in his voice. “The sooner, the better. I don’t want you trying to kill me in the middle of the night just because you don’t like the way I snore.”

  “Your snoring, old man,” Zynora said, “should be the least of your concerns. Now grab some of those shovels, and let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 23 | Ferrin

  FERRIN TOSSED AND TURNED for some time before realizing he wasn’t going back to sleep. Finally, he got up, threw a couple more logs on the fire, and watched as the smoke trailed upward, leaving behind the fresh scent of mountain pine. Under normal circumstances, there were few things he found more relaxing than a quiet evening under the stars. Now all it did was remind him of why he was being forced to spend his nights sleeping outdoors.

  Stars winked through the thick canopy of fir as the upper boughs swayed gently in the breeze. He was thankful they weren’t traveling through snow, but the icy bite of the wind let him know it wasn’t too far off.

  Ferrin had set a strict pace, hoping to elude their pursuers, but he was careful not to push too hard. The last thing they needed was to lose the horses to exhaustion. If not for them, they’d already be in the hands of the Black Watch, marching back toward the Tower.