Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1)

by James Berardinelli

  “We have some time but not much. They’ll be here before mid-day.”

  “We sent scouts out a little while ago. They should be able to give us precise information when they return. Now that the reavers are close, you can worry less about tracking them and more about preparing for what you can do when they get here. I’ll be open with you on that account. Some of the townsfolk expect you to singlehandedly save them. I know that’s not the case. When it comes to the fight, do what you can. Don’t put yourself in danger by trying things you’re not equipped for. If I was you, I’d be desperate to prove myself, to fill everyone’s expectations. I’m telling you now, that’s the quickest way not to survive what’s coming. And as for proving yourself, you’ve already done that. When you came here, no one was more suspicious of you than me. I didn’t trust you. But I’ve watched you day in and day out and, one by one, my doubts have fallen away. You’re a credit to Aeris, Janelle. We’re proud to have you here with us.”

  The waterworks threatened again but I managed to hold them back. With a lopsided attempt at a smile, I got up, ate the meager meal someone had left for me, and went in search of Father Backus. I hoped he could be more helpful and less cryptic today than yesterday.

  “I wish there was something sage I could tell you,” said Backus a short while later. “Like I told you yesterday, using magic isn’t something that can be taught. It’s something you do. No one instructs you how to breathe. You simply do it. It’s ingrained. Same thing for magic. You have to find your own path and, once you do it, replication shouldn’t be a problem. Find the trigger. Magic in this world is simple compared to the one I came from.”

  “The world you came from?”

  “Like you, I was one of The Summoned. I wasn’t born here although I suppose this is where I’ll die. I came from a land called Ayberia, where magic worked with different rules. But that’s a story for another time.

  “The only advice I can offer is that when you try to do magic, look inward. When you encountered the earth reaver in The Verdant Blight, you looked outward, toward it, and that nearly killed you. I’m not sure how you did what you did. Using your life’s essence, you shouldn’t have been able to manipulate it, although its magical nature probably facilitated that. But the control, the dissemination of emotional energy, happens within you. The external manifestation of your power occurs after you’ve harnessed it within.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. It was almost like he was speaking another language. I’m not sure if he thought he was making sense but my baffled look brought him up short. He actually chuckled then, although it was a dry and mirthless laugh. “As I mentioned, it can’t be taught. Once you do it, everything I said will make sense. Until then, it will sound like gibberish.”

  So much for Father Backus being able to help me make a difference in the battle that was rapidly approaching.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Will you be on the front lines?”

  “Me? I’m an old man. What would you expect me to do?”

  “You’re a Summoner. Surely that’s of some value even if you don’t have full use of your powers.”

  “‘Don’t have full use…’ - that’s a kind way to put it, although not accurate. I don’t have any powers. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Janelle. I’d be more apt to get in the way than provide a tangible benefit. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish or unhelpful but it’s the truth.”

  He was right. It did sound selfish. But I supposed I wouldn’t be in a position to judge him until I had lived three-hundred years and that seemed profoundly unlikely. Right now, I’d settle for three-hundred cycles.

  “Can you sense their approach?” I asked, curious about what abilities he might have retained.

  “Yes, although not with your clarity. I only became aware of them during the night and, at the moment, they’re a hazy blur, although I suspect not far off. The ability to sense things with your mind dims with age, just like your eyesight and hearing. It’s inimical to Summoners but not magical in nature. It’s like your ability to understand my words as if I was speaking your language. I’m not, of course. I’m speaking the High Common Tongue of Ayberia but you probably hear it as whatever you’re fluent in. That’s a natural ability.”

  It made sense. I had given up wondering how Samell could speak perfect English. Now I had an answer.

  I didn’t spend longer with Backus. Although there wasn’t much I could do to prepare Aeris for battle except stay out of the way, it had become strangely claustrophobic in the priest’s quarters. I wondered if this was the end of our sessions. If he truly was as decrepit and defenseless as he claimed, he might not survive what was to come. But I found it unlikely that Backus was ready to step meekly into his grave. Despite his protestations, I suspected he was addicted to living and, muted emotions or not, he would find a path to salvation if he had to forge it with a weak store of magic. I didn’t believe his protest that he had no powers. Whether he was willing to show his hand and use what he had left was another matter.

  By the time Samell found me, nearly a cycle later, my nape hairs were standing on end. The earth reavers had advanced so close to Aeris that they threatened to overwhelm me. It was as if the oppressiveness I had felt in The Verdant Blight had been multiplied fiftyfold. The thrumming produced by the creatures - something apparently only I (and Backus?) could feel - sent waves of trembling through the ground and into my body. My private earthquake. But the citizens of Aeris didn’t need my mystical abilities to understand their peril. Shouts from the outer sentries confirmed it: the earth reavers had arrived.

  Battle scenarios had been rehearsed many times yesterday and during the morning. Everyone knew where their starting position would be. If we were victorious, this preparation might have proven to be the difference-maker. Archers were on rooftops. Those with swords, pikes, and other hand-to-hand weapons were ringed around the center square, using houses for cover and to break up the ranks of the enemy. Initially, the southwest-facing portion of the defensive line would face the stiffest challenge since that was the direction from which the earth reavers were approaching, but it was expected that once battle was joined, they would spread out and attempt a flanking action. The most vulnerable of Aeris’ residents - those too valuable to lose in battle or too infirm to participate, were locked inside houses close to the village center. I was an exception. Although the elders had suggested that I retreat inside, I had refused. So, although my position was behind the front line by about a hundred feet, I was in the open, staff in hand and heart thumping loudly.

  With Alyssa and Rickard otherwise engaged, Esme joined Samell and the three of us made our way toward the center square. If a final stand was required, that’s where we’d make it. My protectors would have preferred to play a more active role in the battle but they were aware of their importance if the line buckled or collapsed. There were only a handful of secondary defenders to protect Aeris’ most vulnerable residents. Samell and Esme might well see their share of combat.

  How would I fare in a fight? I didn’t know. I could recall having gotten into a few playground scraps -mostly hair-pulling and slapping contests with other girls - but that was a far cry from risking life and limb squaring off against monsters that belonged in a movie or a computer game. True, I had done it already but the incident in The Verdant Blight had been different. I had acted instinctually, not thinking or knowing what I was doing. That attacker had been a random, isolated creature; this was a hoard compelled by a purpose.

  It wasn’t long before my eyes and ears confirmed what my mind had known was coming. As the archers shouted out intelligence about position and numbers, I saw the tall grasses beyond Aeris’ limits begin to bend and sway and part as if under the influence of a strong wind. Then, almost magically, the earth reavers appeared - a wave of ground-hugging horror surging toward the defenders, looking from this distance like a tide of black tar flooding Aeris’ outskirts. I knew how they would seem close up - the grotesque o
ffspring of a snake and a giant, hairless rat. There were perhaps fifty (so many!) of the scurrying, undulating creatures. In preparation for the attack, they had arranged themselves in a wedge formation, the head of the arrow pointed directly at the area where the heaviest cluster of citizens was congregated. The reavers showed no indication that they were going to flank the defenders or spread out their attack. This was a brute force strategy, an attempt to overwhelm and punch through.

  At that moment, I experienced the terrifying realization that I might be their target. I wasn’t sure why the notion first occurred to me at this particular instance. Perhaps they weren’t interested in Aeris at all - it was just an impediment to attaining their real goal. Maybe they were here to hunt and destroy the newest Summoner. My blood ran cold as I contemplated how many people might die today because of me. Instead of bringing salvation to this small hamlet, had I lured death and destruction into their midst?

  One-hundred feet from the front edge of the wedge, I could hear the half-growls/half-screams the reavers made as they rushed forward. I was familiar with the cacophony but, magnified as it was by four-dozen voices, it set my nerves on edge. As forcefully as their impressions were on my eyes and ears, however, that was nothing compared to the assault of bile against my mind-sense. My revulsion was immediate and primal - far more overwhelming than it had been in The Verdant Blight.

  When the pre-determined signal was given, the archers initiated the battle, raining arrows on the invaders. Some of the missile heads were coated with flaming pitch and some were just plain iron. The wedge moved inexorably forward even as a portion of the missiles found purchase. The timber of the creatures’ voices neither wavered nor changed. If they were hurt, they didn’t vocalize it. With archers reloading and loosing again, it seemed that nothing could survive the deadly hail. But, in part because of the toughness of their hides, the earth reavers took surprisingly light damage. I’m sure some of them died but it was impossible from my vantage point to determine how many and it didn’t look like it was many. The formation remained intact as the creatures closed the final feet separating them from physical contact with their opponents. The arrows stopped when the leading edge of the wedge reached the defenders. Men and women brandishing poles and blades stepped forward to stem the advance. The archers, tossing aside their bows in favor of hand-to-hand weapons, dropped from the rooftops. The bloody close-quarters battle was joined. This was war. This was horror.

  Knowing the difficulty of disabling or killing an earth reaver, the defenders coordinated their attacks so three or four could simultaneously strike the same target. While an effective strategy in principal, it left many of the combatants vulnerable to catastrophic counter-attacks. Reavers, impervious to pain, often maimed or killed multiple enemies before succumbing. As the melee intensified on the front line with the initial order devolving into chaos, it became difficult to determine what was happening. For the men and women involved in the hand-to-hand struggle, it was no longer about winning or losing - it was about surviving.

  Soon, the combatants were waging a primarily defensive fight and, although this slowed the tide of human casualties, it meant that few of the defenders were taking the risks necessary to dispatch the reavers. If a stalemate developed, I knew the citizens of Aeris would be worn down. Stamina wasn’t an issue for the earth reavers. The longer the battle lasted, the greater the potential for them to surge forward and overwhelm us. I was no tactician but I recognized the strategy. I wondered if those coordinating the human combatants saw it as well or whether they were too close to the bloodletting to be aware of the larger picture.

  Watching the battle unfold in all its brutality was surreal. For the moment, I existed in a semi-detached state, having difficulty grasping that this was actually happening. Monsters. Magic. Carnage. The implausibility of it all came crashing down on me. A part of me hadn’t reconciled my “old life” with my new one and now the denial my logical brain had been clinging to was no longer possible. Coping wasn’t good enough. I had to engage and, to engage, I had to accept.

  Except in a funeral parlor, I’d never seen death (or at least not that I could remember). Now, it held me as close as a lover’s embrace. The sight of it, the sounds of it, the smell of it… they were all around me. At the beginning, more than one-hundred able-bodied residents had stood ready to defend the village. Now, familiar voices had been forever silenced. These peaceful, industrious people of Aeris had shown their mettle and were being eviscerated for standing in the way of this malignant wave.

  It was only a matter of time before the creatures would poke holes through the now-porous outer defenses and more might flow through than my guardians could handle. I knew from the encounter in The Verdant Blight that one earth reaver would be a challenge for Samell and Esme. Two or three would overwhelm them. There might well be more than that. The battle plan relied on the front line holding, allowing at most a few stragglers through. That wasn’t going to happen. In the beginning, there had been fewer reavers than people. Now I suspected the numbers were approaching parity and, considering the creatures’ inherent advantages, that meant defeat.

  Without a bird’s-eye view of the battle, I couldn’t tell whether the reavers were still employing their wedge or whether they had spread out to put pressure on the entire front line. It seemed like there was skirmishing around much of the perimeter rather than at one central point although the fighting was still the fiercest there. Then it happened - the first crack. Samell saw it at the same time that I did: an earth reaver coming toward us, inside the outer defenses.

  None-too-gently, Samell shoved me behind him, putting his body between me and the attacker. Esme’s bow sang as she fired a volley of arrows. Her movements were a blur: fit, draw, loose, repeat. I marveled at her economy of motion, her intensity of concentration. If she was frightened, she didn’t show it. From our earlier encounter, she had learned about the reaver’s vulnerabilities and tailored her aim accordingly. Three of her four missiles became buried in the creature’s face but it neither paused nor slowed in its advance. It raced toward us, impossibly fast, its gait a half-scuttle/half-slither.

  Samell stepped forward, sword leveled in front. Unlike the previous encounter, he was guarded, leaving the creature no obvious opening to exploit for a critical blow. As he engaged it, seeking to strike soft tissue, its whip-like tongue lashed him, tearing through his leather vest and shredding the flesh beneath. As a reddish stain blossomed across the ruined clothing, he let out a grunt of pain. A feint to the left caused the reaver to react, offering Samell an opportunity. He put everything into his attack, an unblocked, two-handed thrust to the head. It struck with the sound of an ax splitting a log, stopping the creature in its tracks. The earth reaver convulsed, spewed a geyser of ichor as black and viscous as oil, and ceased all movement. But there was no time to celebrate the small victory.

  Samell staggered back, his breath coming in great heaves and his face bathed in sweat. The attack had taken a lot out of him. Esme moved to help him then re-directed her attention as another two reavers broke through the line. We weren’t the only defenders inside the perimeter but the attacking reavers were ignoring everyone else. Again, I wondered: Am I the target? Is this all because of me?

  Esme got off two arrows before the reavers were too close for her to continue relying on her bow. She drew her knife and moved to her brother’s side. Brother and sister had to give ground to avoid being overwhelmed in the initial attack. The screaming, growling earth reavers were working in concert, attacking almost as if they were a single creature. Their speed and power were too great for the siblings, whose efforts were now purely defensive, warding off blows as they slowly fell back, buying time for me to get away. But to where? There was nowhere to go. Delayed by neither pain nor fear, the earth reavers pressed their advantage. Esme took a wound to her left forearm and Samell was hit at least once on a leg. He staggered and nearly went down. His sword dipped, giving the earth reaver an opening.

  M
y reaction, fueled by equal parts panic and adrenaline, was instinctual and instantaneous. Another person might have screamed but I channeled the silent scream inwards. I couldn’t allow these two to die protecting me. I could do no less than submit to the same risks that all the men and women around me were enduring. The screams of the injured and dying were deafening, each one an accusation. The hard-packed dirt roads of Aeris ran red with blood. My mind-sense was overwhelmed with the enormity of the violence around me. I felt the hatred of the earth reavers - hatred directed at me. All of it, at me. If I died, perhaps they would retreat. But I didn’t intend to accommodate them. Self-sacrifice, no matter how noble, wasn’t in my nature.

  I lowered my staff and with the thought of striking at the creatures preparing to slay my friends. Time dilated, slowing to a crawl. The sensation was unlike anything I had previously experienced. My thoughts sharpened and the doodles of my imagination became playthings to shape into reality. An impulse, primal and unfettered, was given form as something deep within me was triggered. I didn’t understand what was happening but it was a natural function of who (or what) I was. I had heard that in delivery rooms, doctors spanked newborns to start their lungs. Then they would cry out and breathe. Now it was this Summoner’s turn to emulate those babies.

  Heat and light coalesced, conjured out of the raw emotions that threatened to drown me in a maelstrom of turmoil. A gout of fire spurted from the spiked end of the staff to immolate the reavers attacking Samell and Esme. The siblings were blown backward by the concussion that obliterated the reavers. There was nothing left of the magical creatures but wisps of fetid smoke and small scorch marks on the ground.

  Another pair of earth reavers, advancing toward my position, ceased their forward motion. As if recognizing their jeopardy, they turned and fled. Perhaps I should have pursued and destroyed them - I momentarily entertained the possibility and an awakened part of me thrilled at the idea - but winning the immediate struggle seemed sufficient.