Plague of Shadows

by Michael Wisehart

  “Bold words from someone about to meet their end.” Argon hissed and threw himself at Ayrion, swinging his tremendous blade like a smith’s hammer, looking to smash Ayrion straight into the ground.

  Ayrion dove left, rolled, and was back on his feet in time to deflect the next attack. Argon’s sword swept right, giving Ayrion a clean strike at his neck. He swung, but the vulraak leaned back, and his sword missed.

  Argon pivoted and swung again. Ayrion didn’t have the footing to deflect the huge wedge of steel, so he resorted to the only option left and raised his sword to block the hit. With Argon’s strength, the force of the blow was sure to send him flying, if not snap his arm altogether.

  He held his breath as the blades hit. Remarkably, his swords absorbed the impact, leaving him with nothing more than a sharp jolt. Argon must have been surprised as well, since he took a couple of steps back instead of pressing forward.

  “Tiring so soon?” Ayrion taunted, noting he had managed to circle back around to the front of the cabin, leaving Argon’s back to the road.

  The creature laughed. It was a terrible, dark, thunderous sound. “Hardly. But why should I have all the fun?” The giant vulraak raised his huge wedge of iron into the air. “Come!”

  White bodies poured out of the dense tree line from the other side of the road.

  Behind him, the cabin door opened, and Ayrion didn’t hesitate. He raced for the beam of light spilling across the front walk.

  Argon remained where he was, his sword raised, waiting as the others closed in around him. Ayrion slammed the door shut, and Bek threw the bracer back into place.

  “Have a nice chat, did we?”

  “Informative,” Ayrion said, somewhat out of breath as he took up his place on the far side of the window. Something smacked the back of his head. He turned to find Zynora scowling. “What was that for?” he asked, rubbing the sore spot.

  “For trying to give me a heart attack.” She looked out the window at the growing throng of vulraaks in front of the cabin. “What are they waiting for?”

  “They’re waiting for us to realize the hopelessness of our situation,” Bek said.

  Ayrion had to agree. The creatures had them right where they wanted them—isolated, locked inside a wooden box. Even if they somehow managed to break through the vulraaks’ ranks, where were they going to go? Ayrion had released the horses.

  “Lay down your weapons and join me, and I will spare your lives,” Argon called.

  “And if we don’t?” Ayrion shot back. The answer was obvious, but the longer he could keep Argon talking, the less time they had to spend fighting. It was a long way till dawn.

  “Then we will feast well tonight!”

  The vulraak horde roared with excitement.

  “Give us a moment to consider your generous offer,” Ayrion said, then turned to the others. “Any takers?”

  Bek snorted. “On the one hand, our lives are spared. On the other, we spend the rest of them as mindless creatures running around Aldor eating people. Sounds like a fate worse than death to me.”

  Nell cowered against Zynora. “Don’t let them take me again.”

  Zynora hugged the woman close. “Don’t worry. We won’t let that happen.” She looked at Ayrion. “If these are to be our last moments, then I prefer to have them as myself and not something else.”

  “Then I guess we are in accord?” Ayrion stepped over to the window and shouted, “As kind as your offer is to turn us all into lifeless, bloodsucking leeches, I think we are going to have to refuse.”

  Argon pointed his sword at the front of the cabin and released a roar that sent the horde scurrying toward them.

  Chapter 29 | Ayrion

  THE WHITE, HAIRLESS CREATURES stampeded across the front lawn toward the cabin, releasing another of Ayrion’s buried memories. Suddenly, Ayrion found himself staring at a wave of monstrous wolf-like creatures charging his position. He stood on a small rise, his swords drawn and bloody, the sky lit with flashes of lightning, and the howls of the oncoming horde were drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder that shook the ground. He turned to look out over the rise and found himself back inside the front room, watching Bek grab a longbow from behind the door and nock the first arrow.

  Ayrion set his jaw. He felt he was so close to remembering something important, but as much as he wanted his memories to return, now wasn’t the time. He glanced over his shoulder at Zynora. “Stay in the bedroom. We need someone watching that window.”

  The two women scampered into the back, Nell with one dagger, Zynora with two.

  Bek grimaced and kicked out a small section of glass. He sighted and fired his first arrow. A squeal let them know he had hit his mark, but the creature kept running, even with the shaft sticking from its chest.

  “Blazes! These things are hard to kill,” Bek said.

  “Aim for their heads.”

  “Now you tell me.” Bek fired again. This time, the creature dropped with the shaft sticking from its eye. “Better!”

  Ayrion could feel the familiar burning sensation building inside him. He swallowed it back. He didn’t like using the magic. When he’d fought the sniffer, he’d nearly lost control. It was like a separate entity living inside him, fighting to be free.

  Bek released one more arrow, then threw his bow aside and pulled out his hatchets.

  They dodged shattered glass as two vulraaks dove through the window. Ayrion didn’t give the creatures time to make it to their feet before he was on top of them. He beheaded the first and drove his sword through the second’s mouth as it turned to attack. He chopped the arm off another as it tried to pull itself inside. The smell of their blood made him want to retch.

  Bek roared as he yanked a hatchet from a vulraak’s head. The creature slumped over the window frame, half in, half out, its body still jerking.

  The initial rush had come at them with nothing more than their teeth and claws, but those behind were now gathering sticks, rocks, and whatever they could find to use in the attack. One of them was carrying Nell’s hoe and tried grabbing Bek with it, the second time that particular tool had been used against him.

  Ayrion’s blades moved through the air as if some unseen force was directing them: hacking an arm here, opening a stomach there, removing the head of one while severing the backbone of another. He felt powerful. It was as though he were the right hand of death itself.

  Pain flashed across his forehead, and he stumbled backward, dimly aware of the rock landing at his feet. He shook his head to focus, momentarily disoriented.

  Bek shouted as the next wave of creatures fought to breach the house.

  Ayrion wiped the blood away and ran to help.

  In his absence, some of the vulraaks had managed to get a foothold inside the cabin. Both men were being pushed farther into the main room as the creatures climbed over their own dead to get inside.

  Ayrion cut his way forward, fighting to hold ground. Body parts lay everywhere, and he was finding it hard to gain footing on floors now slick with blood. The smell was unbearable. He fought to swallow the bile that kept rising in the back of his throat.

  Their one spark of hope was that Argon hadn’t yet seen fit to get involved. He appeared to be enjoying watching his minions from the other side of the yard.

  “How big is Belvin, anyway?” Ayrion shouted over his shoulder. “I feel like we’re fighting the whole city.”

  “Not hardly,” Bek said as he cut down a couple more of Belvin’s finest. “More like one quarter of the shopping district on an Eighthday afternoon.”

  Ayrion decapitated and kicked the last remaining vulraak back through the window. For the moment, they had managed to thwart the breach. As long as they kept their weapons moving, they held their ground. But how much longer could they manage it before exhaustion took over? Ayrion was already sucking air with every swing.

  The sound of shattered glass and snapped wood behind them had both men spinning on their heels. The planks over the bedroom windo
w hung loose from the walls. Zynora and Nell frantically hacked at white arms trying to get in, but a fresh wave of creatures at the front kept them from being able to help.

  Ayrion slid his blade through the neck of the first creature trying to get in and chopped an arm off the one beside it. He glanced over his shoulder. Zynora was wielding her daggers like a woman possessed, hacking away at anything that dared reach through. He ducked another stone and opened the front of the vulraak who’d thrown it, leaving it to join its dead comrades on the floor.

  Nell shrieked. Ayrion was horrified to see Zynora was on her back, a vulraak on top of her. How had they gotten in so fast? Nell was backed into a corner, swinging her knife wildly at another.

  Bek roared and barreled into the bedroom. The big trapper slammed both vulraaks against the wall with enough force that Ayrion almost felt sorry for the creatures.

  Ayrion could feel the heat of his magic rising, boiling inside him. He feared what it could do, how it might change him. Had he controlled it before he lost his memories, or had it controlled him?

  They were about to be overrun, and his heart sank as he realized he didn’t have a choice. Taking a deep breath, he finally let go, giving himself completely over to it, holding nothing back.

  The heat hit him like a wave, and he tore into the vulraaks, his visions taking over. He could see everything: the direction of their attack, the way they moved, the swing of their arms, the bite of their teeth. He knew what they would do before they did. His body moved as if on its own. He felt free and at the same time bound to the force controlling him. His swords whistled as they cut through the air, the dragon eyes of each crossguard sparkling as they caught the firelight.

  The vulraaks fought to reach him, but he hacked them apart. He forced the creatures back to the front until they ran into the pile of their dead and couldn’t retreat any farther.

  They clawed and screeched and lunged to reach him, but his black steel moved with unnatural speed and accuracy. Limbs flew through the air, entrails spewed across the ground, heads bounced and rolled, and all the while black mist swirled and dissipated.

  Argon roared, and the vulraaks pulled back. Those still inside managed to remove the bracer and flee through the front door.

  Ayrion let his arms fall to his sides. He stared out the window, panting as he watched the last of the white creatures dash across the yard to where Argon stood waiting.

  Ayrion jerked around when something squeezed his shoulder.

  “Whoa, there, killer, it’s just me.” Bek glanced around at the dead, then back at Ayrion. “You sure have a way with unwelcome guests.” He walked over and shut the door, replacing the bracer. “Why’d they stop?”

  Ayrion stared out the window. “Regrouping, maybe.”

  “They’ll be back,” Zynora said as she hobbled out of the bedroom and glanced around at the mutilated bodies covering the floor. “And soon.”

  Chapter 30 | Ayrion

  AYRION CLEANED HIS BLADES on the bits of the creatures’ clothing that weren’t already stained with blood. They had piled the bodies up under the window, which gave them room to maneuver and had the added benefit of slowing down any attackers trying to enter. They also re-boarded the bedroom window, stacking whatever furniture they had in front.

  Outside, Argon’s roar and the answering howls of the vulraaks signaled the next wave of attacks. Ayrion watched as they poured across the front lawn. His arms felt like lead; his lungs burned. He chopped the legs off the first. It continued crawling toward him, using nothing but its arms. He put an end to it with a swift thrust to the head. Pulling the blade free, he opened the chest of the next and kicked it out the window.

  Bek bellowed as he swung his hatchets. Pieces of limbs, globs of blood, and strings of guts flew everywhere. He kicked a vulraak to Ayrion and was turning to the next when the front door ripped off its hinges and hit him in the face. He flew across the room and landed in a heap against the far wall, stunned but conscious, as pieces of the door rained down on him.

  Argon ducked and stepped inside.

  Ayrion stabbed the next vulraak in the neck, his blade slipping through the creature and catching a second behind it. He yanked his sword free and turned to face their leader. The rest of the vulraaks seemed to be holding at the window, not wanting to get in Argon’s way.

  Nell and Zynora worked frantically to get Bek back on his feet. Zynora’s hand, which was cupped around the back of Bek’s neck, was glowing a soft lavender.

  Even bent, Argon’s head scraped the ceiling as he turned and smiled. “It’s been millennia since I’ve enjoyed such sport. I’d forgotten the rush of combat.” He pointed at Ayrion. “I’ll give you one last chance. Join us.”

  “And do what?” Ayrion asked, flipping a dead vulraak onto its back with his boot. “Become one of these pathetic creatures? I’ll take my—”

  A loud crack outside caught everyone’s attention. It sounded like lightning.

  It came again, louder, as if getting closer.

  Ayrion looked out the front window and spotted an ugly green-and-yellow tinker wagon flying out of the darkness with a crazy white-haired specter of a man standing at the front. Is that Tameel? Ayrion couldn’t believe his own eyes. Why was he there? For that matter, how did he know where to find them?

  The team of horses thundered down the road and onto the open drive leading to the front of the house. Those vulraaks unlucky enough to find themselves in the horses’ path were trampled as Tameel snapped his whip to keep them running.

  Argon bellowed, and Ayrion dove to the left as the general’s sword buried itself in the floorboards where he’d been standing. He rolled back to his feet and turned, ready to block the next attack.

  Argon yanked his weapon free and lunged.

  Zynora shouted something, and a loud boom echoed through the cabin. A gale of wind sent Ayrion tumbling across the bodies of the dead. Argon disappeared. Ayrion rolled to a stop against what was left of the front wall and staggered to his feet. What just happened? His ears were ringing. He felt numb.

  He steadied himself, staring at the enormous hole through the cabin wall where Argon had been standing. Outside, a swath of white bodies lay plastered to the ground, from the house halfway to the road. At the end of the cleanly plowed row lay Argon. He wasn’t moving. Those vulraaks still able to move rushed to protect him.

  Ayrion turned around to find Zynora standing there with her arms raised. Her eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she collapsed. Bek caught her up before she hit the floor. Had she just done that? He turned back around. “We’ve got to get out of here.” The others joined him at the front. “Stay close.”

  Outside, Tameel angled the wagon between the horde of vulraaks circling Argon and the cabin.

  “I’ll hold them back,” Ayrion said, “while you get the women inside the wagon.”

  Bek nodded and threw Zynora’s unconscious body over his shoulder.

  The wagon pulled in front of what was left of Bek’s home. Tameel beat at the creatures with his whip. “Get them inside! Quickly now!”

  Ayrion raced to the back of the wagon, cutting down one white-skinned creature after another. Most had remained with their leader, but there were still plenty willing to risk his swords for a taste of his flesh.

  Bek tossed the two women in the back, slammed the door, and turned to help Ayrion keep the vulraaks from reaching them.

  “Get those horses moving!” Ayrion shouted as he ran to the front and gutted two more crazies who’d managed to get through Tameel’s whips.

  “I’m right behind you,” Bek shouted.

  Ayrion spun and, with a single stroke, took another head. “Behind you!”

  Bek went down, clawed from behind. The trapper kicked the legs out from under the vulraak and, as soon the creature hit the ground, buried his hatchet in its head. Ayrion helped him to his feet, and he climbed up beside Tameel.

  “What are you waiting for?!” Tameel shouted.

  “Go!” A
yrion said. There was another wave coming their way. “Get out of here. I’ll hold them back and meet you at the road.” If he didn’t manage to stop them, they’d never get the horses moving.

  Tameel didn’t argue. He snapped the reins. “Hyah! Move those legs! Hyah!”

  The horses bolted, and the wagon lurched forward.

  Thankfully, the drive leading from the road to the cabin wasn’t the only way out. The cleared path continued on past the house and angled back around, rejoining the road a little farther down. If they had been forced to try turning the wagon around and leaving the same way they’d entered, the vulraaks would have had them.

  Ayrion turned to meet the charge. His heart sank when he spotted Argon in the back, attempting to stand. Ayrion raised his swords. They were heavy in his hands. He danced and dodged, keeping just out of reach, letting his visions guide him. The wagon and his friends were halfway to the road. He had to hurry.

  He turned to make a run for it and dropped to the ground. He felt more than saw the huge blade soar over his head.

  Argon roared and spun for another swing.

  Ayrion had never seen anything so big move so fast. He raised both swords and took the brunt of the hit, barely deflecting the blow. Argon swung again. And again. If not for whatever power Ayrion’s blades possessed, the sheer strength of the creature would have driven him into the ground.

  Argon swung and cut two vulraaks in half, trying to reach Ayrion. He clearly didn’t have any qualms with killing his own if they got in his way. The rest quickly backed to a safe distance, giving their leader ample room to fight.

  Ayrion’s back was now to the cabin. On his left, the wagon was nearing the back entrance of the drive. If he stood any chance of surviving this, he needed to reach the front entrance and catch the wagon as it passed.

  Argon swung again.

  This time, instead of blocking, Ayrion ducked underneath and ran. Any vulraak stupid enough to get in his way was cut down. He could hear Argon giving chase behind him.