Demonworld

by Kyle B. Stiff

  “Y-yeah!” said Saul. “But what are you -”

  “Just shut up and do it!” said Marlon. Saul nodded, then dropped his spear and stumbled away.

  ***

  Wodi crouched on a narrow strip of mud at the edge of the river. He was covered by a high section of the bank, and could listen to the ghouls and watch the ferry safely. The others were taking a long time to sneak past the ghouls and he had plenty of time to think. The river rushed past only a few inches from his feet, and he wondered idly if it would be possible to dive in and somehow make it to the other side.

  He admitted to himself that he was tempted to leave the others.

  He did not consider taking the ferry for himself and leaving them behind; he shuddered at the thought because he had nothing against them. Still, he was an introvert, and he was beginning to wonder if it might actually be easier to make the journey alone. He knew that he could not confront any monsters on his own. He was too weak for that. But the arguing? The endless accusations they made against one another? Wodi knew there had to be a better way. If only he was capable of inspiring the others… but he was no leader.

  Wodi’s thoughts were interrupted by harsh cries and a frenzied clamor of feet and weapons in the clearing behind him. He grasped a handful of thick grass and pulled himself up the high bank, then peeked over the edge into the clearing.

  His heart pounded and he nearly lost his hold, for he saw the large ghoul directing all the others and pointing to the woods. They knew! They knew about the others! Wodi saw five ghouls dash into the woods and he knew it was the beginning of the end. His friends would be hounded and either killed or driven off. The others would not survive if they did not have each other to depend on. Before Wodi could stop himself, he climbed over the rise and stood for all to see.

  The spear was slick with sweat from his hands and his knees threatened to buckle. He took in great panic breaths and watched as the fat ghoul finally got the rest of his minions in order, then prepared to march them into the woods.

  I have to distract them! he thought. I can do this!

  We’re going to be killed!

  No we won’t! Those ghouls are cowards, if I can keep them disorganized then it’ll give the others time to reach the ferry.

  There’s too many! One misstep and they’ll all be on you!

  “I won’t make any missteps,” Wodi said aloud, then forced one foot in front of the other.

  Then, suddenly, there was a scream of shrill violence, a cry from a human throat, and all eyes turned to the woods.

  ***

  Marlon’s battle cry rocked the clearing. He burst into the open, spear and club on either side of him. He strode forward, face red and breath superheated, eyes on fire and footfalls steady as death. The ghouls glared at him, raised their weapons slowly, and the fat one called out.

  The large ghoul bit his lip and spat out blood. As the three runners clustered at his feet, mewling and pleading forgiveness, he lashed out with a series of kicks and ear-splitting squawks. He grunted and pointed to either side of Marlon. The ghouls divided, bodies bent low and teeth chattering as they moved to surround him.

  “You’re not sticking to the plan,” said Wodi, smiling from the high bank. Now some ghouls turned to him, alarmed.

  “Get on that god damn ferry,” said Marlon, through gritted teeth.

  “I will when you do,” the boy said, then raised his spear.

  At nearly the same time Peter and his teammates ran along the bank from one side of the woods while Saul ran from the other. The ghouls craned their heads on all sides. Marlon felt the opportunity surge, and with another cry he ran at the ghouls on one side, swung his club in a vicious arc, and smashed it into the face of a ghoul that tumbled into some of its brothers. The ghouls behind Marlon dashed forward and he swung around, keeping them at bay with the point of his spear. As he swung around to stop another group from attacking his back, one brave ghoul climbed atop another and leaped at him; Marlon swung his club upwards into the ghoul’s path, smashed the thing’s jaw and drove shattered teeth into its brain. Marlon turned about wildly, holding back the waves of howling, slobbering ghouls.

  Peter fell into the shallows and hauled himself onto the ferry. While Iduna dragged Hermann onboard, Peter studied the ferry. It was a simple construct of logs and rope with a post in the middle; a length of thick rope stretched between two poles on either side of the river and went through a hoop in the ferry’s post so that it could be pulled from one side to the other. A second rope kept the ferry tied to the pole on the nearby bank. Peter set about untying this rope, hands shaking uncontrollably.

  Soon Saul stumbled onboard, wild-eyed and fear-crazed.

  “Why are you alone?” Peter shouted.

  “Marlon, he’s –”

  “I can see what Marlon’s doing, nitwit! Where’s the old man?”

  Saul stuttered in the throes of idiotic glossolalia and Peter only vaguely understood that Saul had somehow lost track of Jules. Before he could reprimand the boy, Iduna shouted, “What are you doing with that rope? Use your spear to loosen it up, if you have to!”

  “I don’t take orders from you!” Peter shrieked like a madman, hands twitching on the uncooperative knot.

  Wodi watched the battle and was unsure how to help a raging giant against so many. Over and over the pack would retreat from Marlon’s front and surge towards his back; over and over Marlon turned, pointed his spear, cried out. He was a force to be reckoned with but could not last forever. Suddenly Wodi saw one ghoul crouch and dart ahead of the others, his knife held low in both hands. Wodi knew that if it stabbed Marlon’s back, he would falter and the entire pack would bring him down. Without thinking Wodi ran into the whirlwind of stinking bodies, his eyes locked onto the runner. He felt time slow down, felt his body taking into account every detail of the scene. He raised the spear of the torturer. The ghoul stood before him, frozen in space, then Wodi forced all of his strength into one small point –

  He jammed the spear into the ghoul’s mouth, slicing through tongue and jawbone with a hideous crunch. Time moved once again and Wodi felt the white bodies dancing and heard them shrieking all around him. Wodi held onto the spear as the ghoul jerked about, spitting black blood, head shaking like mad; as Wodi turned about with his dance partner, he felt his soul come alight, a terrible fire burning in every limb.

  I’ve killed him! Wodi thought. I’ve done it! I am a god of death! I am a god of destruction!

  With a terrible cry Wodi jerked the spear free and sent the thrashing ghoul tumbling into the dirt. Marlon shouted something incoherent and the two formed up back-to-back, weapons extended, turning about crab-like so that the furious pack could not overwhelm them. Wodi felt no fear. His eyes burned into the barking, misshapen faces.

  Marlon glanced at the leader in the distance. The large ghoul hefted his heavy black spear for a killing throw. Marlon shifted his weight and threw his own spear; stumbling to avoid it, the leader tossed his own spear wide of the mark, sending several ghouls scampering away.

  Seeing that the pack’s rhythm was thrown off, Marlon shouted, “Haul ass, kid!” He tore through the crowd, swinging his club and sending limp bodies flying through the air with broken skulls and shattered torsos. So great were Marlon’s blows that black blood splashed onto Wodi, baptizing him into a world of pain and noise and the burning lungs that are the bride of battle. Several ghouls retreated and shrieked at the leader, who kicked and pointed back at the retreating humans.

  Wodi could see the others at the ferry and he felt the rush of freedom. We’re going to make it! he thought. We’re going to survive!

  Then he saw Jules.

  ***

  Marlon ran toward the ferry with a pack of ghouls not far behind. He saw Peter fumbling with the rope that tied the ferry to a post nearby; brandishing his knife, he slashed the rope in one smooth motion, then continued on while Peter wondered why his rope had suddenly gone limp. Marlon splashed into the shallows and stum
bled onto the ferry. “Saul! Peter!” he cried. “Keep your spears up! Don’t let them onto the ferry!”

  “What are you going to do?” said Peter.

  Marlon sawed at the rope that spanned the river and passed through the hoop in the post in the middle of the ferry.

  “No, Marlon!” said Peter. “We need to start pulling this thing across!”

  “No time!” said Marlon. Already several ghouls gathered in the shallows while others clambered onto the post that held the river-spanning rope aloft. Like spiders they crawled down the length of it, intending to drop down on the humans in the ferry below.

  “I don’t think you should cut the rope!” Hermann shouted. “Marlon, let’s just pull the ferry across!”

  “We can’t pull the ferry and keep those ghouls off of us at the same time, the river’s too rough for only one or two people to pull the ferry!”

  “But if you cut it - Marlon, stop and listen to me! - if you cut it, the river’s just going to whip this thing right down the river!”

  “That’s why we’ve got to hold onto the rope with everything we got!”

  Iduna grasped the rope, eyes intent on the far shore. Hermann grimaced, then did the same. Peter and Saul shouted and stabbed at the ghouls massing nearby. Their movements and Marlon’s sawing set the ferry rocking wildly, and Marlon knew they could not trust the ferry to remain stable – especially outside of the shallows, where the river ran wild.

  “Wodi!” he shouted hoarsely. “You got about ten seconds to get on here, buddy!”

  ***

  Jules had smelled danger as soon as the first ghoul had spotted them and run to the leader. He took off deeper into the woods, intent on being as far away from both groups of idiots as possible. But he had taken numerous wrong turns and, completely out of breath, he somehow ended up stumbling into the clearing and froze at the sight of the pack of ravening ghouls.

  Suddenly Wodi was beside him. “Let’s go!” Wodi shouted. “Nobody gets left behind!”

  Wodi dragged the old man behind him, but the way to the ferry was blocked by shrieking ghouls. Wodi saw the others looking at him, fending off ghouls and unsure what to do. Wodi looked back and saw the leader pull his black spear from the ground. He might have been smiling, but his mouth was twisted with scar tissue and unreadable. Wodi’s thoughts were interrupted when many ghouls, smelling his predicament, broke away from the bank and hounded them. Wodi cried out and swung his spear, knocking their knives and sticks away – but still they pressed on.

  “Come on!” said Wodi, pulling the old man up the rise over the bank under which he had originally hidden. He could hear feet slapping the ground behind him. He staggered up the bank, exhausted, but the old man felt a burst of energy and ran ahead of Wodi. He teetered at the top, arms swinging as if he planned on flying to safety, then he fell over the side into the rushing river. Wodi fell to his knees at the top. Ghouls clambered up on all sides.

  Wodi heard screams, then saw the ferry come loose and swing about in a wide arc through the raging torrent. While his companions held tight to their end of the rope and the post in the middle of the ferry, Wodi saw a handful of ghouls spill from the shorn rope and tumble into others on the shore. As Wodi’s friends rocketed through the river and crashed safely on the other side, no less than six ghouls spilled into the river, shrieking and bobbing as they were whisked away.

  Wodi laughed. “At least they made it. At least they made it!”

  He stood. The large ghoul glared at him and lifted high the black spear. Wodi extended his middle finger, sucked in one last breath of air, then fell backwards from the bank. He was swallowed by the freezing tide and spirited away from the killing grounds.

  Chapter Seven

  Child of Destruction

  Excerpts from Karli Grego’s introduction to Dogman: Son of the Wasteland, published in Haven in 191 FH:

  It is no small thorn in the side of rational humanity that homo canis, or the “dogmen,” thrive in a world where we could not. While they do have sharp canine teeth and are exceedingly hairy, forget the cartoonish depiction of dog-headed men found in popular media. According to our Founders, the reality of these bestial subhumans is far worse. This feral offshoot of our family tree earned their name because of their haggard appearance, their willingness to fight and die, and the slavish devotion given to their superiors.

  …

  We know that dogman culture tends toward extreme misogyny, an inability to consider consequences beyond the moment of action, and a powerful drive to prove oneself to figures of authority. They organize themselves through a patriarchal mishmash of bickering oligarchic tribes ruled by warmongers and witch-doctors. They prefer to fight with or flee from flesh demons rather than make sacrifices; unfortunately, having a common foe does not mean they would ever form an alliance with humans, for they consider us their weaker cousin.

  …

  They cannot crossbreed with humans, but they consider human women to be highly desirable. A chief gains much merit among the tribes if he has a large harem of human sex slaves.

  ...

  Be it known that a pack of dogmen can decimate entire settlements of well-armed men.

  ***

  The ghoul pack-leader urinated uncontrollably as he watched the humans scramble off the stolen ferry and disappear into the woods on the far shore. What a clan of powerful warlords! No doubt their magic was potent as well. He moaned until he choked on a great wad of mucus, wondering what he could have possibly done to stop them.

  Slowly the others gathered around and prostrated themselves at his feet, white heads shaking with sorrow. After the river had done its terrible work, his party was now reduced to half its size. Pathetic! The pack leader kicked one white head, looked about for someone to blame, then kicked another white head.

  He stamped his spear and considered their options. Staying here was out of the question, for there was no longer any ferry to guard. Following the humans and attacking their warrior, who could scream magic words capable of breaking their resolve, was also out of the question.

  Or was it? He found his best scout, the slope-headed ghoul who had first spotted the invaders, and slapped his side with the butt of his spear. He bent his fingers and made the sign of the great lord of the forest, then pointed to the East. The runner must go, he must tell the lord what had happened. The pack-leader knew that the lord of the forest was capable of influencing those who had faith in him. He could give them strength in battle – strength enough to kill the invaders!

  The runner squawked and made a sign at his throat. He had not the words to tell the forest lord what had happened.

  The pack-leader whistled, stupefied at the runner’s ignorance. He made the sign of faith and touched it to his forehead. Did the runner not know that the great lord had his ways of getting what information he needed, even from a simpleton such as him? The runner nodded and took off, loping through the forest.

  The leader looked at his pack. Their beady black eyes were filled with devotion. He knew the time for kicking them and whacking them with his spear was over. Now, they must hunt. He made the sign of revenge and tapped it against his chest. Many of the ghouls understood and nodded, and the others saw their companions nodding, so they nodded as well.

  They would have their revenge! The leader howled and ran along the shore. The others followed, their cold eyes full of death-lust. Soon, the lord of the forest would possess them with his spirit. With his power, they would find the humans and make them envy the dead!

  ***

  Wodi was sucked into the river, a rushing black void flinging him to the end of the world, a violent hurricane with no air to breathe. He saw dark motes buzzing in his vision like flies gathering on a corpse. He knew that his life could be snuffed out at any moment. Crushing cold, endless black, movement without end – just when he realized that his will was nothing compared to this force of nature, he was flung upward to the surface. Bright light pierced his eyes and he sucked in ai
r.

  He heard shrieking, then realized that at least five ghouls were with him. They flung their limbs about, mouths wide with panic.

  Calm, stay calm! Wodi thought, rhythmically beating his hands and feet against the unending wave. He watched one ghoul waste the last reserves of its strength, then its head disappeared beneath the water with a delicate plop.

  The river passed beneath a curving roof of tree limbs. All was dark inside the ribcage of the giant, but the hideous shrieking of the ghouls echoed in layers of agony, a prayer screamed during torture. One voice choked, gasped, then was absorbed by the endless river.

  Once more the river took them into light, blinding and brilliant, then flashing through broken webs far above. Wodi watched as two ghouls silently wrestled in a contest to use one another as a raft. It was an awkward embrace with gritted teeth and greedy fingers. Both sank beneath the surface.

  Wodi was exhausted from treading, but all at once the river picked up speed once more, then he was sucked beneath the surface. There was no air, only crushing weight. A hideous white limb slid against his leg and he jerked away from it. It was the limp body of a dead ghoul and, as he watched it, it set to dancing in tune to the river’s whim, then it disappeared into darkness. Wodi was full of revulsion – then another form came near and Wodi grasped its skull, determined to jam his thumbs into its eye sockets.

  It was an old man. It was Salem Jules! Wodi grasped the limp old man’s arm, then decided there was nothing he could do to help and released the old man. At that moment the river flung him back to the surface once again and he could breathe.

  The river widened, and slowed, and went into a great wall of mist. Milky white became all.

  Tall boulders were interspersed throughout the mist, black islands that towered above the boy. The river was exhausted and offered no struggle. Wodi heard a startled groan near him, turned, and saw the head of the old man nearby.

  “You’re alive?” said Wodi.

  “Not if you don’t gimme a hand,” said Jules.

  Wodi drifted towards the man, checked himself, then said, “I can see a place to rest just ahead.” Then he pushed away from Jules.