Shade shook his head. “Too crowded,” he told Cooper.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Abe agreed. “If one person panics, they all do, and with nowhere else to go, they’ll fall over the side. That happens, the rafts might tip. I’d say only half that many.”
Cooper did a quick count. “That’d make only forty per raft. That’s less than a quarter of my people.”
“The rest stay behind,” Abe said. “They can wait here for us to do… whatever it is we’re here to do.”
“I suppose.”
“I don’t suppose,” Abe said. “I know.”
Cooper commanded half of those on the rafts to get off, which they did. He then supervised as the last two rafts were slid into the river, a good distance away from the rest. These were for the horses. The brigand prophet circled his hand above his head, and the horse handlers cracked their whips, urging the beasts toward the nearest two waiting rafts. The beasts moved forward lazily. One by one, they were led up onto the flatbeds, their hooves clanking on steel. The rafts bobbed under their weight.
Shade noticed that the handlers were too focused on those boarding the rafts, not paying attention to the horses at the rear of the procession. He took a sharp breath. “Ronan—” he began.
But it was too late. The first to splash into the water made it only a few feet until it squealed and was sucked under. A haze of red bubbles sloshed at the surface where it had disappeared. People shouted, whips snapped, and the horses panicked. They retreated from their handlers, a second, a third, and a fourth plodding into the river in their confusion. Animalistic shrieks filled the air as they were ripped beneath the surface, one after the other. Shade gazed out at the river and saw numerous dark shapes. Too many. The fronts of the rafts bobbed up and down as the bloodworms collided with the wooden pontoons underneath. The people atop the rafts hollered in fear. A cylindrical body, slimy and gray, emerged briefly and disappeared.
A feeding scrum of splashing and screeching ensued. Men continued to crack their whips, trying to keep the rest of the horses from panicking, but it was too late. Those already on the rafts bucked, rocking it, while those still on solid ground tore free from their leads and galloped along the riverbank, heading toward the rafts packed with Outriders.
“Don’t let them do that!” Cooper shouted.
But there was nothing anyone could do. One of the horse’s hooves hit the water, and a bloodworm fully revealed itself. It shot out of the river with the speed of a trapdoor spider, an eyeless, nose-less thing at least twenty feet long, with a circular mouth containing thousands of tiny, sharp teeth. That mouth fell on the first horse and flattened it mid-stride. The horse kicked and bellowed as the teeth latched on, tore into its hindquarters. The bloodworm lurched backward and dragged the horse into the river.
The people on the rafts, who had been watching with holy terror, screamed.
“God help us all,” said Cooper.
Shade clenched his fists. “Someone better.”
More of the horses followed the lead of the first and galloped along the bank, only to be pulled into the torrent just as quickly by the rapacious worms. The people on the rafts leapt for the bank; a few fell into the river and perished. All around was chaos.
“Everyone keep calm!” Cooper shouted, arms waving above his head. “Our God will protect us! We are doing His holy duty!”
The people weren’t listening.
Soon, even those corralling the horses backed away from the churning river, and the bedlam subsided. The horses, their fear quickly forgotten, began to nibble on the sparse grass once more. Hundreds of crimson-clad people huddled in the middle of the open space where tents had been set up just hours before; their eyes flitted, their extremities shook. Shade felt both vindicated and frustrated, watching Ronan Cooper work his way through his mass of followers in an attempt to instill them with confidence. It didn’t seem to be working, especially while the worms still feasted just below the surface. The brigand prophet came back to them with his head down and shoulders slumped, seemingly half the man he’d been only minutes ago.
“They aren’t willing, are they?” Shade asked.
Cooper shook his head.
“Told you.”
“I don’t know what else to do,” the man said.
Abe put a finger to his lips in concentration. “Sal Notterdam is just south of here. They’re one of the few that fish for bloodworms to feed their people. If we go to them, ask to use some of their boats…”
“That’ll take too long.”
“Um, brah, I don’t think you got a choice,” Meesh said.
“I know.”
The four men stood apart from the rest and discussed possible solutions, but Cooper rejected every idea the knights came up with. He was convinced he needed to reach the infertile stretch of land on the other side sooner rather than later.
Then a shrill whistle cut through air, followed by a din of terrified cries. Shade spun around. Those Outriders who had been tasked with keeping watch over the wall of carriages rushed back and forth. Bertram and Asaph burst free from that group and headed right for Cooper and the knights.
“What the hell now?” Cooper muttered.
Bertram skidded to a stop, panting, while Asaph grabbed onto Abe’s arm to bring his limping stride to a halt. Bertram was winded, Asaph had gritted teeth. When their eyes came up, there was sheer terror in them.
“He’s here,” they said in at the same time.
“Uh, who’s here?” Meesh asked.
Cooper wheeled around and ran toward the temporary barricade. Shade peered at Abe, whose mouth was set in a thin line, and the knights followed.
Cooper’s chest slammed into one of the horseless carriages, and he gazed out across the empty field. When Shade reached his side, he tracked his gaze, furrowing his brow.
It looked like the horizon was moving, wriggling like a sea of ants.
“Brah, what is it?” Meesh asked.
Shade remained silent. He reached into his belt pouch, removed his spyglass, and pressed it to his eye. His mouth dropped open, a rock fell in his gut. Out there across the prairie stood a man dressed all in black, his face hidden by a cowl, his cloak flapping about him as if it were a living thing. A horde of rotting human forms stretched out on either side of him. The cloaked man remained still while the crushing undead host rocked and swayed. Shade held his breath, uncertain of what might come next, until the man held up a long, bony appendage and pointed toward the Outrider camp. The undead lurched forward. Shade noticed more than a few of them wearing the yellow waistcoats Mitchell Hogan had made popular in Breighton.
Much like the Outriders with the bloodworms, it was one thing to hear stories and yet another to see the horror in person. “Oh shit,” Shade said, again looking at the cloaked figure leading the charge. Despite his fear, anger brewed in his gut. There was the beast that took Vera from the world…
Meesh took the spyglass from him. “Er, looks like we found all them folks from Breighton.”
“The Morningstar… he’s come,” said Cooper.
Behind him, the Outriders screamed.
“What do we do?” Bertram pleaded.
“I… I don’t know,” Cooper said.
Shade glanced at his brothers. Meesh seemed slightly amused while Abe had a look of deep concentration on his face. The eldest knight grabbed the brigand prophet by the shoulders, shook him.
“Listen to me, Cooper,” Abe said. “Get what men you need, bring them to the rafts. It looks like we’re crossing the river after all.” Cooper stood there, a shocked and stupid shell of a man, and Abe slapped his face. “Go now!” he shouted.
It was Asaph who spurred him to action, grabbing Cooper and steering him toward the waiting, bobbing rafts. He shouted orders to others, and soon a bevy of frightened men and women were on his heels while the rest scuttled about in panic. Shade couldn’t help but be awed by the scholar’s poise under such extreme circumstances. He guessed that for
Asaph, one time hiding while everyone around him died was enough.
Abe climbed atop the nearest horseless carriage, spread his feet wide, and ripped the Eldersword from his belt. He held the blade above his head, and the most brilliant blue of all shone from it. Shade and Meesh exchanged a look, and they did the same as their brother. If he was so confident, they would be too. The light coming from their three combined swords was blinding.
Nearly every eye turned to them, and for one dazzling moment, there wasn’t an ounce of panic.
“Listen to me!” Abe shouted, his voice booming. “You must not panic!” He slammed his foot down on the carriage’s metal shell. “These will be your salvation. The approaching force is slow. It will take them time to cross that field, and in that time you will be saved. Pile as many as you can into these carriages, hang off the sides if you must, and head south. Seek shelter in Sal Notterdam, warn them of what’s coming. But always remember: Do. Not. Panic!”
The Outriders surged into action. Shade hopped down from the carriage and looked toward the river. Cooper had gotten nearly a hundred men onto three of the rafts, but they were having trouble shoving the insanely heavy things into the water. The rafts bobbed, the bloodworms drew close to the vibrations. They’re all gonna die.
“What a day!” Meesh exclaimed.
Shade grabbed a man sprinting past him. The Outrider whirled around, eyes bulging.
“What’s your name,” Shade asked, trying to gain the man’s focus.
“Denton,” the man answered, still distracted.
Shade slapped the hood of the carriage. “You’re a brave one, Denton,” Shade told the man. “Find some of your brothers and sisters, take these carriages, and push those rafts into the water. The fate of your prophet is in your hands.”
His words steeled the man, who nodded curtly before turning to his new duties. His voice was loud, his tone commanding, as he sought out volunteers. “What now?” Shade asked Abe. “They’ll get swarmed out there.”
“We create a diversion,” Abe told him. “We force the horses into the water.”
“Won’t that just draw more of them?” Shade asked.
“We don’t really have a choice,” Abe said. “We just need to distract them long enough.”
Meesh laughed. “So long as Greenie’s not one of ’em, right?”
Abe ignored him, and the knights rushed to the Warhorses. Shade glanced behind him, saw that the oncoming horde of decaying flesh was still nothing but a blurred line on the horizon. He hopped into his saddle, and the oblong machine droned to life.
“Shade, I see your sword is out,” the machine said. “Am I to prepare for battle?”
“Sort of,” Shade said. He pulled back on the handles, and the Warhorse lifted off the ground. The clearing had almost emptied by then as the Outriders piled into the carriages, and so Shade leaned forward and zoomed across it, heading straight for the horses. The beasts lifted their heads and skittered a bit out of the way, but they didn’t run. Shade looped around as his brothers followed his lead, but they only succeeded in pushing the horses back a few feet.
“Lupe, can you make any noise?” Shade asked.
“I can, sir. Loud or subtle?”
“Loud. Very loud.”
“I suppose this is to frighten the horses?”
“Exactly.”
“Very well. I will send a message to my own brothers to do likewise.”
“Good.”
Shade spun back around and headed for the twenty remaining beasts at an angle. When he was a few feet away, a deafening, bellowing horn erupted from beneath him. Shade had to fight the urge to cover his ears. That blast was followed by another, and then a third, as his brothers’ Warhorses followed suit. The horses, spooked, darted away. Shade kept himself on the periphery, waving his Eldersword at them, while the Warhorses continued their audible assault.
Shade did a revolution in time to see four of the horseless carriages shove the rafts into the water. Their wheels spun as they struggled against the weight, kicking up mud and stones. One raft left the bank and rocked in the flowing current. The three others followed soon after—four platforms of terrified humanity, now at the mercy of nature. A bloodworm rammed the side of the closest raft and tilted it. The Spear of God slid a few feet; six of those on the platform lost their balance and fell in the water. Shade turned away as hands reached out to save them. He knew they didn’t have a chance.
It only took one more looping pass by the brothers to force the horses into the river. They were fallen upon in an instant, and the feeding frenzy began anew. The near bank was a mess of oily, cylindrical bodies, screeching horses, and spraying blood. The knights steered away from the carnage and came to a halt close to the water’s edge. Shade braced his feet in the Warhorse’s footholds and stood up. The horseless carriages, even those that had pushed the rafts into the water, were careening south, quickly. Someone was galloping away on Greenie. The remaining Outriders, less than a hundred, were forced to flee on foot. Shade pivoted; the undead army was close now, too close. He could see the demon lord in his billowing cloak, imagined pus-filled sores on every skulking, rotting soldier. There were so many of them.
Out in the river the current had taken hold of the rafts, taking them farther south of the feeding frenzy, while people steered them with long poles. Amazingly, they were going to make it.
But what about us? Shade thought. He gazed down at his Warhorse’s glowing screen and wished he felt better about his options.
“Lupe, can you go over water?” he asked.
“As long as I have momentum.”
“You think you can cross a quarter-mile?”
“The probability is good.”
“I guess that’s all I can ask for.”
Shade looked to his brothers, who sat atop their hovering Warhorses beside him. He pointed to the river and gave a thumbs-up. Abe paled; Meesh laughed hysterically.
He looped the Warhorse back around, then pushed the throttle as hard as he could. The wind blew his wide-brimmed hat off his head, and he nearly choked on its string as the hat bobbed in the air behind him. The same thing had happened last time. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was over the river not a second later, the water parting below him, raising twin ten-foot waves on either side. Spray drenched him as the Warhorse lowered. He barely saw anything over the wall of water, but he could tell that the feeding frenzy was over by the lack of horses screaming.
Please, Pentus, Yehoshua, God, anybody… please let us make it.
In a matter of moments, his Warhorse rose again as he skirted over dry land. Shade pulled back, brought the machine to a gliding halt. His brothers had made it as well, just as sopping wet as him. Meesh squeezed water from his long hair.
The first raft made landfall five hundred feet downriver, and those who leapt off tossed ropes to the others to try and pull them in. Shade imagined all of them were numb from disbelief.
You got your wish, Cooper. I hope this is worth it.
Shade put his hands on his hips and watched as the undead host spread out along the opposite bank. They didn’t enter the water. The cloaked demon that led them stepped to the forefront, tiny from so far away, but something about his aura made him seem larger than life. Shade thought of Vera’s ruined visage again and clenched his fists.
The cloaked man, the Morningstar, the Demon Lord, raised a hand and pointed a skeletal finger seemingly right at him.
Shade gritted his teeth. “Come and get me, you bastard.”
16
“THERE IS SO MUCH WE DON’T KNOW…SO MUCH WE’VE YET TO SEE…BUT ONCE YOU LAY EYES ON IT…PENTUS HELP ME, THE UNIVERSE…IT’S SO BIG.”
—ABEDNEGO THE 22ND
6 SECONDS BEFORE DEMISE
The sterile valley at the edge of the world. Abe looked out over the vast expanse of nothingness and knew they were where they were supposed to be.
The place was worse than even the Wasteland. The land itself was nothing but cracked rock, and a thin l
ayer of gray dust coated the stones. Nothing grew here, so far as he could tell. Even when he knelt and scored deep into the earth with his Eldersword, there was no root system of any kind to be found. It seemed even nightweed couldn’t grow here.
One hundred and twenty-two people had climbed off the rafts, and afterward they’d stood in sullen silence while staring at the undead on the opposite shore. Cooper, having regained his composure, ordered them to march inland. “They have no way to cross,” he said to ease his peoples’ worry, and though Abe knew it was true, what with bloodworms and all, the mere presence of the horde, waiting, watching, was enough to fill his stomach with dread. Abe had suggested leaving a few behind to stand guard, and Cooper complied.
Six men carried the Spear of God as they meandered their way through the bleak terrain. Abe and his brothers helped bear the load; the thing was heavy, and it was hard to get a firm grip on its curved, smooth surface. The knights had left their Warhorses in a hidden nook a few hundred feet from the water’s edge to perform just this duty, and with good reason. If there was even a chance this device could send that atrocity back to the Nine Hells, it was very much worth it.
Nearly two hours into the march, strange sights began to appear. The terrain flattened out, and deep pits surrounded by collapsed concrete, similar to the ruins outside Danville, were everywhere. Steel poles rose from the ground at even intervals, warped and flaked with rust. The wind blew, and debris skittered across the ground. This was obviously a place of the Ancients, ruined by the Rising. At one point they passed a stone monument that had long since been weathered by time and elements. It was the rough shape of a man on horseback, one stumpy, formless arm pointing outward.
“That a religious relic?” Abe asked Cooper as he struggled with the Spear’s weight.
“Don’t know,” the brigand prophet answered.
Soultaker Page 23
