Eldritch Night

by J M Hamm

  Tiller was close behind me when he began firing his revolver. He quickly began to match my targets, switching his aim only to take down anything that came close to our barricade. His speed and ability to quickly change targets with almost no time lost aiming made Tiller a whirlwind of death. He quickly caught up to and surpassed me in number of kills.

  Tiller could probably keep up his barrage for an extended period, but I knew I could not. My mana was quickly being depleted and its recharge time was too slow to be effective in battle. Simply gaining enough mana for a single cast of Arcane Missile took more than a minute. We were vastly outnumbered and any monsters I took out were quickly replaced, often with stronger, uglier beasts.

  I looked out over the battlefield trying to pick out the best targets. I needed to find a general, something that was commanding the rest or at least something that they all feared more than charging into the meat grinder the bridge defenders and I were creating.

  These weaker monsters were spooked already, perhaps if we could take out the strongest among them, we could weaken their resolve — maybe even cause them to break and withdraw. It was clear they were not working together in an organized way. They were more stampede than an army.

  I finally calmed down enough to slow my racing thoughts and concentrate, taking a deep breath I tried to take in the whole battlefield and understand what was happening. What was coming at us, and what resources did our side have? Despite our lack of numbers, the group of bridge guards had some impressive abilities.

  Someone had conjured a golem made of concrete and rebar that was smashing its way through tiny humanoids that had blue skin and furry shoulders. The golem would strike out with giant sledgehammer-like fists and send the tiny creatures flying. They would swarm the concrete and steel juggernaut, but it would quickly shake them off or flatten them against its own body with a massive concrete palm.

  The construct would occasional reach into its own chest and pull forth a boulder that really should have significantly lessened its mass, and yet somehow didn’t. Rather than toss the boulders the creature would then roll them, literally bowling through the horde of fiends. As the stones came to a stop under the weight of crushed bodies, they would provide additional cover and create another obstacle for the approaching horde of beasts and monsters.

  A man in a long coat and fedora was shooting red beams from his palms that would set anything they touched on fire. Between spells, he waved his arms and contorted his fingers in complicated and exaggerated motions that I was sure was unnecessary. Despite his theatrics and bad fashion sense, his attacks were quite effective. He would sweep his beam across the attackers, setting as many as half a dozen aflame every few seconds.

  A large man with a fire axe had jumped down in front of the barricade and was hacking apart anything that managed to make it that far. I watched as a wolf the size of a jeep charged down the middle of the bridge and tried to leap over the barricade. The man with the axe twisted his body sending his blade into an uppercut-like slash that sent the dire wolf flying back. It tumbled head over feet as its entrails spilled out upon the ground.

  There were less than a dozen guards, and yet they were holding back thousands. It was awe inspiring to watch them and to imagine what they must have gone through to last this long. The pile of bodies had become so thick at some points that they were tumbling over the railing into the water below.

  I yelled commands to my Dark Companion, still in its bird form, to fly through the battlefield and find anything that resembled a leader. Despite the noise and distraction, it was able to understand me — perhaps due to our mental bond. The creature immediately turned into a haze of gray feathers as it darted through the air.

  Rather than fly overhead the Fisher chose to cut through monsters like a bullet, leaving bird sized holes in anything in its path. It didn’t tarry or search but seemed to be heading in a straight line towards the far end of the bridge.

  I ignored the bird and began to look around. One of my companions was missing.

  “Rachel,” I called out.

  I yelled again, but my voice was lost in the cacophony of battle. I immediately regretted sending out my dark companion without first making sure I had accounted for all my teammates. It was a mistake I vowed to learn from.

  “Tiller,” I yelled grabbing his shoulder to get his attention.

  He fired into the horde twice, but then lowered his aim and bent his ear towards me. His increased perception allowing him to hear my voice through the deafening roar of battle.

  “Find Rachel,” I said.

  He looked back at the battlefield beneath us, but then nodded once and jumped down in the direction we had come from. I trusted him to find her faster than I could, and I didn’t want him following me for what I had planned.

  I was running out of mana, but the eldritch energy was thick around me, I could feel it rolling off the bodies of the slain monsters and coagulating into thick clouds around the human combatants. The knuckles on my left hand turned white as my fingers wrapped around my staff, it slowly extended to its full length as I pulled it from the loop on my belt.

  I carefully began to draw the dark, eldritch energy into one end of the staff. A long, curved blade slowly grew from the tip, giving my staff the appearance of a scythe surrounded by black mist and crackling bolts of red energy.

  The chain that had been coiled around my right arm began to unwind as I slowly fed the dark energy into it. Thick, black thorns grew from the chain links as tiny specks of red energy formed at the ends of the razor-sharp barbs.

  I struck out with the scythe as the chain spun like a living bramble turned into a vortex of metal and blood. Blood ran down my hand as bodies pressed in around me.

  Chapter Twenty-one: Song of Battle

  With every swing of my blade, I would feel the eldritch energy respond, both in myself and in those around me. The energy flowed from wounds and bled from the dead like black ichor. It stained the air like splashes of ink in water, even as blood flowed stained my boots in crimson.

  I could see the energy, the eldritch, as it spread and flowed throughout the bodies of my foes. It would take on a pattern vaguely reminiscent of a circulatory system – thick streams endlessly splitting into smaller and smaller capillaries that reached and nourished every cell. It did not replace flesh or blood, instead mixing with them both to corrupt and strengthen.

  As the beasts died the energy would leak into the air thickening and adding movement to the dense energy in which the battlefield was awash. I could reach out and manipulate this energy, once it was loose upon the breeze.

  I could feel the energy in each beast, even get a sense of its shape and flavor, but I couldn’t grasp it while still inside living flesh. When I tried it was like attempting to catch air between my fingers. Each creature had its own unique ‘signature,’ I believed with time I could learn to tell individuals apart by the unique shape, feel, and color of the eldritch energy that flowed through their veins.

  Claws raked across my back tearing long gashes in my jacket. I screamed as I swung my scythe behind me. A hairy creature, with one arm that was twice as long as the other, twisted and dodged my attack even as it cut through several of the small goblins that crowded me.

  I smiled as the spiked chain caught the creature’s leg. It tripped to the ground and the chain spun around the limb until it was severed. Already, I had turned my attention back to my other opponents. A pack of mastiff sized wolves had begun to surround me, and I was constantly being harassed by three-foot goblins that would stab and slash at my legs.

  I was still only a few meters from the barricade, despite the exhaustion in my limbs and the feeling of having fought for hours. I had planned to move the fight further away from the barricade, to lessen the pressure on the defenders.

  I could detect the sound of battle to my right, and gunfire coming from behind me. If they continued to fight, I would stand beside them. It was a vaguely heroic thought that I quickly pushed down, foc
using again on my own actions. I wouldn’t become a martyr, I still had things to do.

  The curved blade of the scythe flashed and seemed to strengthen as it cut through a fanged skull. Each foe I killed seemed to strengthen the phantom blade as if it were being nourished and sharpened through battle.

  I used the chain mostly defensively, keeping it spinning in front of me like a shield or flinging about me to push back the horde when it grew to close. It cut through bone, beak, and talon as easily as it did flesh. Despite this, countless blows had still made it through my defense.

  I was covered in bruises and had a long gash down my left cheek. For each attack the chain deflected, as many as three would make it through — a stinger to the stomach, slashes across my chest, or the pounding of fists upon my back.

  My arcane shield still stopped these attacks at first, but I had spent too much mana when I was still attacking from the wall. I could feel my blows slowing and landing with less force as my stamina was gradually depleted. I had no choice but to retreat towards the barricade, slashing out wildly around me to keep my enemies at bay.

  My scythe cut through a clawed hand as the chain severed the forelegs of a wolf. Small bolts struck my stomach and shoulder. I could feel thick bruises forming, even through the Peacekeeper jumpsuit I still wore. The chain shot forward twice, and two goblins fell to the ground with bullet-sized holes in the center of their skulls.

  A leaped forward to impale a charging kobold with the blade of my scythe. Something collided with my back. The spiked chain spun around my body and with a flick, a severed hand grasping a wooden club fell to the ground.

  I turned and found more forms approaching from behind. I had let myself get carried too far forward, and yet in that instant of mindless rage, I gained a deeper insight. I saw a thread of energy flowing between each creature, the same energy that flowed through my blade. Through me.

  My connection to the eldritch energy was beginning to wane, but the brief experience had given me a greater understanding of just how interconnected the system and the eldritch lifeforms were.

  I could feel the energy in my own body, not like a series of capillaries but as a sphere of densely packed runes and shapes that defined my skills and feats. It was too tightly packed to make out any details, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this ball of energy was the source of my current power.

  This realization didn’t help to strengthen my weakening arms or to replenish my nearly depleted mana. I no longer retreated towards the barricade, I charged. Scythe and chain worked together to mow down green flesh and brown fur like weeds under a harvester. I could feel them slowly closing in from behind, the vibration of their charge carrying through the pavement beneath my feet.

  As I reached the barricade I turned and planted my feet. Scythe and chain spun as blade severed limbs and sharp thorns tore at flesh. I killed dozens of beasts of all shape. In front of me stretched hundreds of foes, thousands, each waiting eagerly to take the place of those I slew.

  I’m not sure how long I held out like that, but my Stamina was almost completely drained when the mandible of an oversized insect clamped down on my thigh. My leg exploded with pain as I fell to one knee. I removed the head of the giant ant with the chain as I used the base of my staff to pry open the jaw.

  No blood, the limb seemed intact. The armored jumpsuit had taken most of the force, I sighed in relief. The headless body stood and began to thrash wildly.

  “Stay dead you piece of …” I yelled.

  I impaled it with the scythe blade, but the creature was not slowed. I swung my chain around in a circle and it wrapped around six chitinous legs and the giant bug began to fall. Something hard struck me from the side, launching me into the barricade. Thin metal crumpled and groaned under my weight.

  I shook my head as I looked down at the swimming ground. I was laying prone, nothing but slick concrete beneath my face. My entire body ached, and my Stamina was still almost completely drained. It would take more than five seconds to regenerate a single point, hardly useful in the quick pace of a battle. Already I could feel a shadow of another attacker growing over me.

  My staff, now out of reach, had reverted back to a simple weapon of steel and wood — the blade evaporated into thin strings of twisting energy. The chain continued to fight independently of my will, but the black spikes of eldritch energy were beginning to dull and fade.

  I pressed my arms into the hard ground and pushed myself up, but I only managed to turn myself onto my side.

  A dozen insects, each the size of a Doberman, were charging towards me, some on stick-like legs and others on shimmering, translucent wings. I managed to kick out as the first insect reached me, sending it flying back with a sickening crack. Two more, and then a third. They latched onto me before I could fight back.

  The first two were clamping down on my legs while the third was attempting to impale my neck with its long, spear-like mandibles. I grabbed onto each mandible, one with each hand, and tried to force the creature off of me. I twisted and pushed as it fought back, pitting six legs against two weak and flagging arms.

  I was successful at first and the creature’s head was gradually pushed back, even as my arms began to shake. I felt weaker with each second. I might have succeeded in dislodging the overgrown arthropod, but I felt my ankle snap as one of the other two insects clamped down tighter upon my leg. The flood of pain destroyed my concentration and the mandibles I had been struggling against slipped from my grasp.

  The razor-sharp tips of the jaws barely missed me as they sank into barricade behind me. It was momentarily pinned as it tried to pull its jaws out of the impaled steel. With both arms, I began to beat the head and thorax of the bug with wide and unaimed swings until my fists began to bleed and the creature lay dead.

  I felt relief and then agonizing pain. The bug that had snapped my ankle was pulling at my feet even as I felt the other set of jaws dug deeper into my thigh.

  I gritted my teeth and screamed as my face twisted in agony. Throughout the fight, my mana had been regenerating, but it did so with terribly slowness. I had only a few points left, barely enough for a single spell.

  I aimed my hand and began to activate Arcane Missile. I’ll still have the other ant, I thought. Instead, I activated Arcane Shield, and for a fleeting fraction of a second, the jaws of the creatures were forced open as the shield created an impenetrable barrier around me.

  I kicked out, pushing them both away as I threw the body of their dead comrade at the one still trying to sever my shattered ankle. I rolled to the side and wrapped my fingers around my staff, swinging it behind me. It collided with a crunch, and one of the ants began to scream in an earsplittingly high pitch.

  It was that screaming that saved me as it had finally drawn the attention of my allies. The red and silver head of an axe bit into the neck of the insect pulling at my leg while two well-aimed bullets from an unseen shooter liquified the head of the other.

  The man with the fire axe planted one foot on the side of the creature and pulled his axe free before extending a hand to pull me up. I grabbed his arm and accepted his help while avoiding putting any weight on my shattered ankle.

  “You alright?” he screamed above the booming sounds of battle.

  I nodded my head a few times in the affirmative while thinking, no I’m really not.

  I was too exhausted to speak, and my throat was raw from screaming. I barely had the energy to hold my head up. The man walked me to the barricade and waited for me to begin climbing back up before he charged back into the battle. My tired arms carried me up about halfway before I began to slip.

  A dark hand shot out to grab mine and helped pull me atop the pile of cars, wood, and metal. Tiller stood there, still firing one-handed even as he pulled me up with his other. Next to him stood Rachel, with tears and trails of dark mascara staining her face. As Tiller finished pulling me up Rachel placed my arm around her shoulders and helped me move down to the other side.

  Sh
e set me down on the hood of a car, probably the same one I had leaped from earlier. Before she left Rachel looked down and smiled slightly. I couldn’t make out the words, but she said something to me before sprinting back up to the top of the barricade.

  As I watched her go I regretted my part in bringing her here. It had been my idea to bring her, even Tiller and the girl’s own father voicing objections. Now, she was scared and would probably die at the hands of some vicious beast.

  What would she be doing if none of this had happened?

  It was a silly thing to wonder about. This was the reality we all faced. The truth was that I, along with everyone else on the bridge, was probably going to die. I could only take responsibility for that one death though, so I regretted it.

  Hopefully Troy and Liv were okay. And Mom.

  As I looked up I could see Tiller, still firing his revolver while Rachel stood next to him. She was staring blankly at the battle beneath her. I saw her stand taller and straighten, she looked down at me and smiled, just for a moment, before looking away again. In that brief moment of eye contact, I could see her fear evaporate — her eyes narrowed, and her jaw set in determination.

  She did the last thing anyone would expect on a battlefield where men and women fought for their very lives against eldritch abominations. She began to sing.

  It began softly before gradually picking up speed. The song was eventually joined by the crash of a cymbal and the slow steady tapping of a bass drum. As the lyrics drifted over me the sounds of battle were forgotten and I was lost in the melody and rhythm. I could hear her voice, clear and pure, and it seemed to be singing just for me.

  Everyone, no matter which side of the battle they fought on, stopped for just a moment. Then the song increased in speed and the two sides crashed together in combat once more.