by J. Thorn
“There are to be no exits from the facility until agreed by the council,” said the voice.
“But I wasn’t supposed to be in her at all.” Seren felt her face flush and her pulse quicken. “I need to be out there helping.”
“I cannot allow an exit at this time.”
“Then can I speak to Abernathy?”
“There are to be no communications unless planned by the council. Please find your quarters and settle in. Good day.”
Declan stepped forward and pressed the button. “This is Declan, right hand to the Elk leader Jonah. I wish to speak to Katrina regarding the...prisoners...that were just released into the halls.”
“I’m sorry. I am under strict orders that no communications are to occur at this time. The council will communicate when it is deemed necessary.”
Chapter 28
The horizons glowed orange, bleeding upward into the night sky. Fires raged but it was not clear whether those were burning trees or buildings on the compound. The stench of burnt plastic hung on the air and the smoke sat upon the land like a heavy fog.
Jonah nearly stumbled as he rounded the corner, his right foot landing awkwardly on the curb. He staggered sideways, side—stepping into the middle of the road as he tried to regain his balance and keep his forward momentum. The cries in the distance urged him onward, and the sound of others running up behind him encouraged him back into a sprint. In the distance, maybe three hundred yards further along the straight stretch of road, he could see the barricaded area ahead now. A glint of a sword or shapes tumbling in the dirt, an indication that the fight raged in the darkness.
As he ran on, pushing himself forward, other warriors poured from the side roads ahead of him, but not as many as he had expected to see. With a dozen others in front, and an equal number behind, and ahead, over the barricade, came a mass of dark shapes.
Two hundred yards. He ran through another intersection, and managed to glance through the sweat dripping from his forehead, glancing in both directions along the road that he had crossed. A few other stragglers were hurrying toward the fight, but still not many.
More than this were supposed to come at the call to battle, that much he knew, and from the numbers of enemy climbing over the barricade, he wondered if there would be enough to repel this attack.
Jonah’s arms felt heavy and his feet ached with each step. This was the third assault this night, and none of them had been in close proximity of each other. He had arrived after the first battle to see the barricade burning and the Valk gone. The second, he’d helped repel and the barricade stood. But this battle would not go well, either, he thought, as a hundred yards away the left side of the barricade crumbled and began to topple inward. He saw large, heavy logs pushing through the hastily assembled defenses, tearing whole chunks away and sending the panels of wood and metal taken from the ruins flying in all directions. As he closed the last fifty yards, the entire structure collapsed backward, toppling down upon those below, crushing Valk and clan warriors alike under the weight of the barricade as it crashed to the ground, sending clouds of dust into the smoke—filled air so that as he closed the last few yards he could barely see ahead.
Figures erupted from the dust like unholy shadows of the night. Some were his own warriors, wounded and wide eyed, but the nearest two were pale skinned and wore the dark paneled—armor of the Valk. The first leapt forward and attacked a nearby clan warrior, cutting him down with a long swing of a blade, but the second saw Jonah and braced to meet him.
Jonah swung the ax high as he ran forward and slammed it hard into the defender’s shield, throwing all of his weight into the blow. The strike accomplished his objective. The Valk staggered back, falling, and his enemy’s shield was torn away and sent flying back into the smoke, but the man was not dead, and started to get back to his feet. Jonah leapt forward again, ready to strike a killing blow, but two other Valk emerged from the dust, rushing forward, waving weapons — one carried a sword, and the other an ax. The first missed him by just inches, and he dodged away. One of his own warriors leapt past him, hurling himself toward the second warrior, trying to hit him with a large spiked club, but the Valk crouched low and stuck out his blade, impaling the clan warrior through the chest with his own weight.
Other warriors appeared behind Jonah, but for every clan warrior that took the line, forming a defensive barrier, two more Valk pushed out from the darkness and dust.
Jonah struck his first kill, taking a Valk that was attacking another warrior to his right, cleaving off the Valk’s arm with a heavy strike. But then he staggered backward, struck by a glancing wound to his ribs as more Valk appeared, each carrying spears.
He grasped the wound and winced, knowing it was not a deep cut, but the pain that shot through his side was enough to make his eyes water. He took two steps back, blinking, and when his vision cleared there were another half a dozen Valk pressing in on him.
There were too many of them, he thought. They seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, armed and taking the place of their falling brethren. They fought with a single, unified approach without the need for a commander or coordinated troop movements. Had Jonah been watching the fight from another vantage point instead of being in it, he would have been impressed by the Valk army.
More came through the gap in the collapsed barricade. Dozens, maybe hundreds for all he knew. He took more steps backward, and even though there were warriors on either side of him, the sheer numbers of Valk pressing into the opening and pushing forward were too much. This was no longer a fight, but a shoving contest.
“Keep backing up!” Jonah turned his head and shouted. “Hold the line!”
A man fell to his left, leaving a gap that no one filled, and for a moment, Jonah glanced backward to see how many warriors were coming to help.
None.
The road behind him stood empty. Where the hell were all his defenders? He backed up even further, seeing more of his men drop. At least two dozen clan warriors had formed a line to stand against a hundred or more Valk, and the number of Valk increased by the second as more flooded through the broken defenses.
“Retreat!” Jonah saw the fight for what it was. A lost cause. There was no way they could hold this many back, let alone win, and it was a word he had hoped to never speak. No battle had gone this way before. They had been pushed back before but never like this. The Valk forces had defeated Jonah’s clans as easily as if they’d stomped through a field of flowers.
He would be the last to run, that much he promised himself. Some of his warriors were struck down as they fled, but he made sure that most broke away before he retreated. Valk closed in on him, and some tried to get past, to circle around and cut off his retreat, but he backpedaled faster, and then, as a Valk fell in front of the others, causing them to slow just for a moment, Jonah took his chance and ran.
But where was he going? The barricades had been their primary defense, and if they had been breached, all he could do was find as many of his people as possible to stage some form of counter attack. It was that or retreat to the smaller circle of barricades near the plaza, but from there was nowhere to retreat to.
Jonah ran away from the heavily armored Valk, beating them with speed against the weight of their armor, and after twenty seconds he reached the junction he had passed. He would turn right this time, he thought, and hopefully head toward the other barricade down that street. But just as he reached the junction, clan warriors filled the road and ran past him, and not far behind them came the Valk.
The Valk had coordinated a staged assault, and one on a massive scale. As he joined the running warriors all heading into the center of the city, away from the Valk that followed them, Jonah knew that the barriers had fallen not just here, but probably in many places. This was what the Valk had been planning — not worrying about the defenses, but delaying and building up their numbers until they amassed such a vast force that they could hit the clans like a series of storms.
And now he wondered if there was anywhere left to run.
Chapter 29
Loner stumbled forward, his breathing heavy. He was used to running long distances, but mostly with frequent breaks. Over the years he had built up his stamina so that he could cover many miles in a day, like other hunters. But this continuous grind across the landscape felt unending, and without rest, and it was breaking him.
Yet, the Valk seemed unaffected, and drove him onward, constantly prodding him if he slowed. Once, he had staggered and fallen over. The same Valk warrior that had spoken to him upon his capture stepped from the gathering that circled him and replied, very briefly, “You will not speak. This is your one and only warning. Speak no more.”
And that had been the end of the matter. He had been hauled to his feet and pushed forward once more, urged on and into the still dark night. The clouds obscured the moon and it seemed as though the wild animals cowered in fear as the Valk came through, their rotting odor signaling the very essence of death. Loner stumbled many times, but the thought of what the Valk had promised him should he stop running, or speak, motivated him to continue, but only enough to lumber forward at a pace that seemed to irritate the warriors around him.
At least he was still alive, though. None of the others that he had camped with were, as far as he knew, unless they had managed to sneak away. Frantic was gone. The man had been annoying at times, but Loner had started to warm to him, and he didn’t think the man deserved the end that he had been given.
After what seemed like hours, the scenery around him started to change. The forest began to recede, and with it the vegetation that pulled at his ankles and dragged him to the ground so many times. Now, he noticed looming, dark shapes around him. The skeletal forms of long abandoned buildings stretched as far as he could see, and not a single light lit the expanse of ruins.
Shapes moved in the shadows of the buildings, but Loner couldn’t see any details, and so he just presumed that it was more Valk, for no one with any sense would be this close to a hundred or more warriors trudging through their midst.
His eyes began to adjust, slowly, as the clouds parted to reveal a black velvet sky dotted with stars. After the darkness that had covered everything beneath the forest’s canopy, the view of the moonlit, ruined city was almost as bright as day, though it was still the middle of the night. It was then, as the warband pushed him further into the ruins, that he noticed the first symbol of the Valk’s territory. A marker, if you could call it that, because the twenty—foot pole that had been driven into the bare earth held the weight of a body impaled upon the top. The wretched individual that hung there had no arms or legs, and barely a husk remained — rags of tattered clothing clinging to a skeletal carcass that had shriveled over time.
And this was not the only one he passed. As the warband trudged constantly forward, through the ruins, he saw another, and another, until eventually they turned down a wide road surrounded by tall buildings, and Loner saw that the entire length of the road on both sides had been lined with the impaled dead.
As they passed by one of the poles, Loner looked to his right and glanced into an alleyway barely lit by the moon, and spotted three figures before they scampered into the shadows. All three were small, maybe four feet high, with long, scraggly hair and large wide eyes.
Children, he thought, as they vanished from view and he was nudge forward once more.
The group jogged onward, and the vision of the three kids wouldn’t leave his mind. They had been as pale as the warriors, but slight of build. He had not imagined that there would be children amongst the dead flesh eaters.
Then his train of thought was interrupted as he collided with a Valk warrior in front of him who had stopped in the road. He looked the warrior in the face, and in return was thumped heavily in the chest. Winded, he staggered back, and tried to steady himself, avoid falling, and he barely managed it. He stood there, in the middle of the road, looking down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the warrior that now approached him.
“Is this the one?” asked a deep voice. “The one she seeks?”
Loner didn’t reply, and dared not look up to see if the leader of the warband that had captured him was responding.
“Good,” said the same warrior, who now took a step toward him. Loner still didn’t look up, but watched the man’s boots as they closed the distance.
“The mistress of all would speak with you,” said the newcomer.
Loner nodded but still stared at the ground.
“You will follow,” said the warrior, and then he turned and headed across the road, stepping swiftly over the broken pavement and disappearing into the open doors of a large, redbrick building.
Loner stepped forward, and started across the road.
“Remember.” The voice came from behind him, the familiar voice of the warrior who led the warband. “You do not speak unless she permits it, or it will not go well for you.”
Loner turned his head toward the man, but not all the way. He nodded again, and followed the other warrior into the interior of the building. Just before he stepped between the doors, he glanced up, and noticed words etched into the stone plinth embedded above the doorway.
United States Post Office.
Loner continued through the doors, and spotted the warrior up ahead. The man was heading down a spiral of stone stairs that led into the belly of the building. Loner started forward but stopped just for a moment, his heart thumping in his chest as he saw what decorated nearly every inch of the vast interior.
Bones. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them had been hung from the walls, most, as he could only just make out, had been pinned with large spikes that were driven into the mortar between the bricks. There were entire skeletons hanging from the ceiling, and skulls in the hundreds stacked in neat piles against the lower parts of the walls.
He shuddered, and headed quickly down the stairs, following the warrior that he could barely see in the darkness below. The stairs turned three times around before revealing a large, underground vault, and as Loner took the first step off the stairway and onto the flat, smooth ground, he noticed movement from both sides. Half a dozen Valk warriors stepped from the darkness, their spears levelled at him. He took a step back, ready to run back up the stairs, even though he knew there was little hope of escaping. But a voice stopped him.
“Come forward.” A woman’s voice, both deep and commanding, cut through the air like ice and was enough to freeze him on the spot.
This must be the Valk leader, he thought. The mistress.
The spear wielding warriors stepped around him and blocked the way back up the stairs, and then began to usher him forward, pointing the sharp spear heads toward him.
He moved away from the stairs, and walked forward into the darkness, unable to see even the slightest of details.
“Hands behind your back,” said a male voice from nearby.
Loner did as he was ordered, and found himself being roughly bound with rope.
“You must not have spent much time in the dark,” said the woman.
A moment later a small flicker of flame appeared ahead of him, then it blazed and brightened, lighting the whole area. A brazier made of metal sat in the middle of the room next to a large pile of what appeared to be animal furs. Seated in the middle was an individual whose appearance made him shiver.
The mistress of the Valk sat before him. She could have been beautiful beyond any woman that he had ever seen were it not for her adornments. She wore a band holding her hair back which exposed the stubble on the sides of her head. She smiled at Loner, her sharpened teeth protruding over black lips. Hunks of human ligaments, pieces of pure-white bone hung around her neck. She had been eating, tearing flesh from bone with her pointed teeth. Even in the darkness, Loner could see that she’d been gnawing on the remains of a human arm.
“Come,” said the woman. “Be seated.”
Loner stared back at the ground as he was pushed forward. At the edge of his vi
sion, he noticed that two long trails of rope stretched out on either side of him, each held by one of the Valk warriors. He stumbled forward and knelt at the edge of the pile of furs, then nearly wretched from the stink coming off of them. These animals had been skinned, but not cleaned — the blood had dried and the furs had begun to rot. Flies buzzed around, and he forced himself not to gag, while at the same time wondering how on earth anyone could tolerate such conditions. Did this woman sleep here? The thought nauseated him, and his vision blurred for a moment as a wave of dizziness passed over him.
“Tell me now.” The woman put down her the arm she’d been chewing. “About this Jonah who leads your people.”
Loner took a moment as he tried to understand the words but all he could do was cough, trying not to vomit at her feet.
“You will speak now.” The woman growled the words with an edge of hostility in her voice. “Tell me of this Jonah that leads your people.”
“I am no longer of his people.” Loner’s voice cracked.
“You were with the ones called the Cygoa. This I know. Your face has been recognized and you once followed him and his people. The man leading them. He is the one called Jonah. Is this true?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what you know of him. Where is he now?”
He shifted, his stomach tightening into a knot. “They went further south after the battle. I don’t know where. We left when the fighting ended.”
“I see. You have no knowledge of that. Then you tell me about him.”
“He is tall.” Loner paused for a moment, trying to think of other ways he could describe the man that would make him at all distinguishable from any other clan warrior. “A little taller than I am. He has—”
“I know what he looks like. I am the mistress. Eyes have brought words back to me. Tell me what I don’t know.”
Loner could feel the tightening in his chest and his heart thumped faster. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
