by Gwynn White
With black spots for eyes, the head turned to look at the party atop the cliff. A slit zipped open across that round rock of a head. Twin rows of flat, human-like teeth sank into the soldier’s body, easily biting through his body armor as if he were wearing none at all. The klashton tore half the body away and began chewing, the sound of bending steel creaking in his mouth as he stared up at the cliff. The ball of red meat that was the soldier’s body rolled about, staining the beast’s perfectly white teeth. Throwing the lower half aside with a wet smack, he grinned, those jet-black eyes appearing like lumps of coal pushed into a rock.
Hyndrid snapped out of his horror-filled trance, his veteran instincts urging him to refocus. Men were not meant to see such things, but mourning these men’s lives would have to wait. Revenge, however, could be served immediately.
“Archers!” he bellowed, hand rising over his head.
Eyes glassed over, many of his bowmen were too stunned to move. Upon seeing their fellow soldiers fall so quickly, so gruesomely, many just stared in shock. Those that held their wits drew back, the creaking of tightening bowstrings echoing about. The klashtons were coming at a full charge now, rumbling up the side path.
“Loose!” the general called, lowering his hand with a chop. There came a hiss as arrows were released, zipping through the air towards the charging beasts. After a short flight, arrows impaled the ground around the creatures. Of those that hit home, most splintered against their stony bodies, shattering on impact. A small percentage actually penetrated their tough hides, causing some to roar with pain as they dropped to their knees. These minor wounds were far from life threatening, but enough to slow their charge.
For a fleeting moment, Hyndrid considered giving the order to fire at will. But these giants were far too strong for such an intermittent offensive strike. With hides so thick, their fire needed to be concentrated in order to be effective.
“Draw!” he boomed, glaring as the enemy drew ever nearer. Giving a silent command, he flashed his hand in the air—closed fist, finger, finger, open hand. A louder creak filled the air as those who hadn’t fired the first time regained their nerve. It was do or die, and they needed to trust the wisdom of their general. His hand signals were clear and they all took careful aim. “Loose!”
A torrent of arrows hissed through the air, peppering the lead klashton. His stony body seemed to sprout arrows, feathered shafts covering him from head to toe. Those that missed only did so by inches, striking those directly behind him. His body crashed, dead before he hit the ground, then slid a short way across the sandy clay.
That was one less to deal with, but a secondary objective had been accomplished. Seeing one of their own fall so easily, the other klashtons hesitated. Had they kept charging at full speed, they might have overwhelmed the humans inside of three volleys. On the battlefield, seconds gained were the difference between victory and defeat when spent wisely, a lesson the crafty veteran had mastered years ago.
“Draw!” he repeated, hand flashing in the air. Closed fist, two fingers, two fingers, one, open palm. Gaining confidence, the archers drew back, aiming with precision as opposed to reckless firing. Each volley needed to count. “Loose!”
Aware of both their position and instructions, the skilled soldiers let another barrage of arrows fly. Starting as a cluster, they separated in mid-flight to find their chosen targets. Three klashtons crumpled to the ground, each with nearly the exact same amount of shafts embedded in their chests. From this closer range, even those solid hides had no chance of repelling the vicious air assault.
The remaining klashtons slid to a halt. Nearly half had fallen, and they had yet to reach the troublesome humans. Hyndrid held the gaze of one of the beasts, staring into those jet-black orbs. This time, he was the one who grinned. Slowly, tauntingly, he raised his hand, refusing to break eye contact with the thing that had slaughtered his brothers. Open palm, fist, hand lowered with a single finger pointing to the enemy. Send them to the afterlife!
With the heavy chain of organized strategy removed from their necks, the archers began randomly firing away. With sure aim no longer a priority, arrows took flight with chaotic speed and fury. The klashtons remaining turned to flee, thick arms flailing around as if swatting away stinging bees. Feathered shafts rained down on them, most shattering or ricocheting away off their rocky bodies. Regardless, it was enough to send them into full retreat.
Taunting cheers rose up from the cliff. Bows pumped in the air. They hadn’t been ready for the surprise assault, yet the trained soldiers had managed to act with calm precision. Hyndrid let out a sigh, hands falling to his knees as he bent over.
True, they had turned back their attackers and won the day, but he found little comfort in that. They had lost too many brothers this day. If he could go back, what would he have done differently? The general always beat himself up over casualties, constantly replaying the battle in his mind over and over.
As his soldiers cheered, Hyndrid remained deep in thought. If all this was planned, why were the rardens so clearly taken by surprise? Surely they hadn’t given up their lives willingly. What’s more, the damn things were simply too stupid to be part of any elaborate plan. In all likelihood, they had been unwilling bait! But who set them up? The klashtons? No, they were only marginally smarter. Were these beasts evolving into a more organized force?
The general shuddered at the disturbing thought. Bah, I’m going mad! We just need to gather our fallen and—
Hyndrid looked to the sky as others pointed as well. Even from this great distance, he could recognize hydrogriphs when he saw them—large, powerful creatures soaring on the wind. Dark red in color, they strongly resembled bats with their leathery bodies and rodent-like heads. Larger than horses, they required four separate wings to stay airborne, two flapping over each other on either side as they pumped in unison with a deep, whooshing sound.
Hyndrid swallowed, sweat trickling down the side of his face. There were at least twenty that he could see, possibly more coming over the horizon. “Archers draw,” he boomed, fighting hard to keep his voice steady. He could no longer deny what was happening here. Somewhere along the lines, without anyone realizing it, these beasts had evolved into thinking creatures. Not only had they been set up, but it had been done with chilling tactical precision. This was the third wave of an organized attack!
Tightening bowstrings creaked with loaded arrows. The men’s faces remained hard, stony. They would trust their general until the end. Not moving particularly fast, the creatures kept coming. Double wings on each side flapped lazily, the beasts gliding more often than not. Hyndrid’s veteran instincts were nearly screaming at him. This was not a full-on charge, yet they were undoubtedly coming straight at them.
Arms began to tremble, the tension of bows drawn too early starting to take their toll. Lazily flapping along, it suddenly became clear the creatures were dropping something along the ground. Dirt or sand, something white sifted down from packs attached beneath the hydrogriphs. But that was simply impossible! Even if given the intelligence of humans, their sharp talons couldn’t function as hands. Who tied those sacks to these wild beasts, and more importantly, what was in them?
The general raised his hand as they finally came into range. Fist, fingers spread, hand lowered. “Loose,” Hyndrid called out. Just as the hissing arrows streaked upward—all perfectly divided among individual targets—the hydrogriphs pulled up. Heavy whooshing sounds filled the air as they displayed some measure of urgency for the first time, their wings thrashing the air as they climbed in altitude.
Arrows drifted up to their apex, nearly nipping the claws of a few of the flying beasts before looping back downward. Tiny clacks could be heard as they harmlessly peppered the cliff only a few yards away. Watching as the winged beasts sailed overhead, a few of the men gave a start, smacking at their face and shoulders as if fending off buzzing insects. White dust fluttered down like snow, frosting helmets, armor, and the ground alike.
The hydrogriphs glided on, high out of range but showing little interest in the humans below. Hyndrid kneeled down, running a finger through the white, fluffy soot. Spreading it between two fingers, the dry substance became a black-and-white swirl of fine powder. “Ash?” he muttered to himself. Others brushed it off their shoulders, swiping furiously as if it might burn at any moment.
With the hydrogriphs at a safe distance, movement from the desert floor caught his eye. Ignoring the protests from his panicked men, the general slid his looking glass from his side. Cooler heads must prevail, and it was his duty to figure out what they were up against. Ignoring the fluffy powder still drifting about, he scanned the frosted area where he thought he had seen something. Quickly, he found what he was looking for.
White men, paler than anything he had ever seen, stood side by side gazing up at the soldiers on the cliff. Hairless, white as ghosts, their bodies were excessively thick. The creatures were eight feet tall and built like giants, yet the only thing Hyndrid could focus on was their eyes. Large and bright pink, their clouded irises seemed to have no pupils.
One looked up, those pink eyes meeting his own directly through the looking glass. The general’s blood froze as a dark line formed across its featureless, noseless face. That line opened unnaturally wide, splitting its head with a gruesomely large, toothless grin. One by one, the albino creatures seeped down into the dust, melting as if they were candles, leaving behind liquefied ash bubbling like hot oil.
A veteran of countless battles, Hyndrid couldn’t deny the intense terror rattling him to his bones. The lens of his looking glass cracked against a stone when it slipped from his hand. “Draw your swords!” he shrieked, voice shaky at best. “Prepare for melee combat!”
Confused men glanced about, dropping bows and unsheathing blades. None were exactly sure what threat their general was speaking of, but they didn’t doubt him, either. Swords drawn, they waited for instruction, eyes glancing this way and that. Which direction was it coming from? What battle formation was required to defend? Instead of his usual precise commands, Hyndrid just stumbled away from the cliff, fumbling around with his own sword. Seeing their resilient general so badly shaken was more than a little unsettling.
Like waves breaking up on shore, white swells sped through the soot and up the cliff. The enormous pasty men exploded up from the ash, thick arms extended outward. Steel flashed, skilled soldiers lashing out with tenacious brutality, blades slashing several times per second. Their weapons passed straight through them as if their bodies were made of smoke. The pink-eyed men laughed, a deep, hollow laughter that seemed to echo from all directions at once.
Smoky arms solidified into edged weapons, frosted blades that were mere extensions of their bodies. And then the true carnage began...
Hyndrid watched helplessly as his men were torn to pieces right before his eyes. Shrieks of pain were followed by choking gurgles, the sounds of men dying filling the air. Time slowed. He spun in slow motion, still gripping a weapon that would do him no good against these foes. Everywhere he looked, eyes bulged, and mouths hung wide open in silent screams. He could see their faces twisted in anguish but was powerless to help.
A pasty bulge exploded up from the ground near his feet. Those pink eyes glared with hate as a toothless mouth stretched wide open, grinning down at him. Dropping his blade, his trembling hands went up defensively as he screamed. Pure white washed over him like a wave, muffling his final blood-curdling wail.
Chapter One
Common folk scurried through the crowded streets, heads down, bumping into one another as they carried their bundles from the market. Shop owners called out, ringing bells while waving fabrics or beating wooden handles against newly woven rugs. Merchants crept their wagons down the cobbled roads, grumbling under their breath at the tightly packed traffic. The streets of Redwater were always busy this time of day. But recently, the market had taken on a solemn, gloomy feel.
Anxious fear blanketed the city like a dark storm cloud. News of the ambushed soldiers spread like wildfire, triggering a near panic among the commoners. An entire unit wiped out with virtually no explanation! There were rumors floating about that a single man had returned, yet no one but Lord Alaric Bournfred himself could ever confirm or deny such a report. And since the surfacing of these rumors, he had not made a single public appearance. Even before the rumors started, the man was rarely ever seen. But time wouldn’t stop due to uncertainty. Distracted or not, the people of Redwater had to eat, so it was business as usual.
Lost in his own thoughts like so many others, Fredrick weaved his way through the crowded street. All he needed from the market today was a single fish and a sack of potatoes. The sooner he made his purchase, the sooner he could return to the safety of his home. With all this dark talk of monsters and dead soldiers, just being out and about made him nervous.
A hard shoulder took him in the chest, causing him to stumble back. “Watch where you’re going!” he barked, spinning to confront the rude stranger.
The cloaked stranger glanced back, just enough for him to get a peek beneath her hooded cloak. The pretty girl winked, flashing a warm smile at Fredrick. Her full lips were dark in color, standing out boldly against her pale skin. Taken by her beauty, he grinned awkwardly before she hurried on her way.
Placing a hand on his chest, he sighed, already regretting that he failed to ask her name. Suddenly his smile melted away as his hands frisked up and down the side of his coat. “M-My coin purse,” he muttered. His eyes narrowed, zoning in on the girl who was just now turning the corner. “Thief!” he called, singling her out before giving chase.
She flinched at the call, cursing her luck before breaking into a dead sprint. “Thief! She stole my coin!” came a second shout from behind, spurring her on faster. It was too late to try and blend into the crowd. Those around her stared and pointed as she bumped past, many reaching out to grab her. She had to get past them quickly before—
Whistles started to blow. Street soldiers with the red lion head branded on their breastplates—Redwater city’s flag—began giving chase. Moving like the wind, the girl proved to be faster than any of them. But the problem was the whistles were summoning more soldiers from all directions. No matter which way she looked, armed men poured from alleys, clanking around corners with their weapons already drawn.
Knowing she’d be hung for sure if caught, urgency drove her on as she weaved between the street goers with freakish grace and speed. Pushing back another man who tried to grab her, she whipped around another corner only to come skidding to a halt. Turning down this alley had proved to be a big mistake. Three soldiers blocked her path.
With a grinding rasp, they drew their blades, advancing steadily. “Halt, thief!” ordered one, pointing the tip of his blade towards her. “It’s over. There is nowhere to run.” Whistles continued to blow from behind, alerting others of her exact location.
Panic gripped her, her heart thumping so hard it felt like it might burst. With little choice left, she made a desperate decision. I can’t let them catch me!
From her standing position, she leapt straight up in the air. Gasps of awe filled the alleyway when she landed on the roof above. Pausing only a moment to glance down at them, she sprinted across the tiles. Nearing the edge of the roof, she leapt again with only the slightest push of her foot. She sailed over the street, clothes flapping in the wind as she appeared to float through the air. Gently, she set down on the next roof as if she weighed nothing at all.
On she ran, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, trailing soldiers who only now had begun to scale the walls. How had it come to this? For years she had managed to hide in Redwater’s shadow, undetected until now. But after one careless act, it seemed that most of the city was on alert. She couldn’t let the chase lead back to her home. No, she had to lose them somehow.
“You there! Halt!” came a call from her left. Two more soldiers were climbing up, each just starting to get their footing, pulling up with one knee. S
he blazed past, leaping another twenty feet onto the next roof. Outrunning them individually was easy, but escaping all these curious gazes wasn’t. Folk pointed to the rooftops wherever she went, calling out her location, while some even threw stones to slow her down. Too many eyes... She needed to bring the chase back down to the streets.
Toes edging up to the side of the roof, she eyed the jeering crowd below. Their calls were harsh and taunting, shaking fists daring her to jump to her death. Peeking down from beneath her hood, she grinned, white teeth flashing brightly through her blackish lips.
She stepped off, floating down as her cloak rippled against the air. She landed like a cat, graceful and soft with hardly any bend to her knees. People gasped, backing away in horror as if she were covered in snakes. Hearing more angry calls just a short distance away, she was off and running in a blink.
More soldiers giving chase, she whipped around a corner, hooking a wooden barrel with her hand. It wobbled over, a gush of water and floating leaves spilling into the soldier who was hot on her trail. He stumbled briefly, but regained his balance before falling over. Back at full speed again, he grumbled under his breath as he realized how much ground was lost with that one misstep. He could barely keep her in sight as she sped away. How could that girl be so fast?
Zipping around a second corner she slid to a halt, nearly running directly into the arms of a waiting mob. With an angry roar, they charged forward swinging handles, shovels, and anything else they could use to inflict damage on the thief. She turned back to retreat, but took only a single step. More common folk and armed men were coming from the opposite direction as well.
A mere pickpocket should never have drawn this much attention, but the mysterious woman’s antics had seemingly attracted the whole city. She could hear their accusations, whispers of black magic.
