Red Death

by Jeff Altabef

  She stopped. “That’s odd.”

  She scanned the forest around her, listening intently, holding her breath. Then she heard it—faint but real—and the air flew from her lungs. She spun and looked at Wilky and Gemma.

  Exhaustion played in their features—their shoulders sagged to the ground, their eyes downcast. Dusk had just fallen, and it had been a long day.

  Until that moment, she had hoped to make camp soon.

  “What’s wrong?” Wilky said.

  I can run for it. If I start now, I’d get out of the path in time, but Wilky and Gemma could never do it. Even if they were fresh they might not be fast enough.

  “Wilky, we’ve got a big problem. A Devil’s Storm is coming right at us. Those nasty Flesh Eaters are riled up, and we can’t get around them. Usually I’d find some water to cross or a ghost tree to climb. They’ll strip any other type of tree, but they won’t touch a ghost tree. But the last one is too far back, and I don’t see any other ones. Jacob’s braid!” She swore as she twisted in place and hoped for divine inspiration.

  The Flesh Eaters were three-inch long, red beetles, with angry, hungry mouths and sharp stingers in their tails. They didn’t have eyes, and navigated by smell with long antennae that swooped out in front of their heads. Usually calm and ordinary, they ate vegetation and other bugs, but during a Storm they raced for miles at a feverish pace, eating only flesh. No one knew why they stormed, but when they did, they swarmed over every living animal in their path, taking it down to the bone in seconds.

  And now the three of them were right in the path of a Storm. Her knees buckled, and her mind went blank.

  “Fire,” Wilky suggested, as the clattering from the Storm grew louder. It sounded like a million tiny drummers beating against bone drums.

  “Fire would work. The Flesh Eaters won’t go into the flames.... Yes, if we use it as a shield they’ll go around us, but how are we going to make a fire big enough to hide all three of us in time?”

  Wilky fumbled in his leather satchel and retrieved a clear glass bottle.

  Life flooded back into her body. “You have a bottle of Liquid Fire?”

  Liquid Fire was extremely volatile. One spark and it burned intensely for a short time with searing hot, blue flames.

  “You’re amazing!” She grabbed the bottle and kissed him on top of his head. “Stand by the oak, and I’ll spread the liquid fire in a wide arc around us. We can’t make a circle because we’ll need a way out after the Devil’s Storm is gone. The blue flames will burn hot, but the forest is wet. With some luck the entire woods won’t go up, and we’ll escape out of the opening after the Storm has passed.”

  She poured the liquid fire carefully, making sure not to spill any on her suit. Uncertain how wide to stretch the arc, she settled on fifteen feet.

  She joined Wilky and Gemma by the tree as the red swarm appeared in the distance.

  Gemma clutched her hands to her ears.

  Millions of angry Flesh Eaters raced toward them, the clatter of their hard shells and the snapping of hungry mouths louder than a hard rainfall. It was an evil sound punctuated by desperate cries of animals fleeing from the Storm’s path, and from those that failed to escape.

  Aaliss held a match at the ready and waited for just the right moment. If the flames burned out before the Flesh Eaters passed, they would still be doomed. She could only guess how long the blue flames would shield them. She stared hard into the distance until the red wave closed in on them. It didn’t look like millions of individual beetles, but rather a single monster—a red tide that rolled fast, the Flesh Eaters running over each other’s backs to surge forward, their hard shells colliding against each other, their greedy mouths searching for meat.

  She imagined what it would feel like for the bugs to swarm over her, eating her flesh to the bone, and her hand started to tremble. She could wait no longer, so she lit the match and tossed it into the Liquid Fire.

  The flame exploded to life, a wall of blue leaping before them, protecting them from the angry red monster.

  The bugs reached the flames and parted as if an unseen general had given a silent command.

  She turned and watched the Flesh Eaters reconnect behind them. For a moment she worried they might double back, and held her breath, but they continued their march northward.

  She grimaced at the smoke, unsheathed her short sword, and grabbed her crossbow. They had lost any chance they might have had of escaping the Viper. The blue flames and the smoke would act like a beacon—he was hunting them, and soon he would find them.

  She had to be prepared. No one was superhuman, not even the Priest of the Guardians. Her instructors had often compared her to the Viper, as his scores were just a hair better than hers. In the end, he was only human, and a bolt would take him down just like it would anyone else.

  They trained me to kill. I just need a steady hand and a clean shot.

  ***

  The Viper scrambled up the branches of a ghost tree. Jonas followed, swinging his battleax into the bark, using the weapon to hoist his bulk onto the lower branches.

  “I hate Flesh Eaters,” Jonas said. “I saw them take down a deer a few years back. They had it to the bone within a minute—a quick death but not a good one. It was hard to look at.”

  The Viper paid him no mind. The High Priest insisted that he not go alone on this sortie, and now he had started to regret his decision to bring Jonas. Maybe he should have brought one of the other Blood Relations in the Guardians—Mathew was younger and quieter than Jonas and could keep a secret.

  He climbed higher, wedging his boots into knots into the tree, and searched the forest looking for signs of Aaliss. “They aren’t that far ahead of us. They should be right in the path of the Storm. I don’t see any other ghost trees or rivers they could use to shield themselves.”

  Jonas sat on a branch with his back against the tree trunk. “It would be a pity if we came all the way out here and found nothing but bones.” He rummaged inside his satchel. “By Jacob, where’s my bottle? Did you take it?”

  The Viper scowled at him. “When we return to Eden you can drink as much Sacred Drink as you want. Until then you stay sober.”

  Jonas grumbled. “You are a hard man, Gabriel. We had better make quick work of these kids.”

  The Viper pointed toward the east. “For Eden’s sake, that rabbit is clever. Look over there, only a half-mile in the distance. Blue flames! Only Liquid Fire makes flames like those. Those flames should protect them against the Flesh Eaters, but it won’t protect them from us.”

  The army of Flesh Eaters raced around the trunk of the ghost tree. For some reason no one understood, the tree’s bark repelled them.

  A squirrel sat on a nearby branch, staring down at the bugs, safe from the carnage. The Viper swiped at it with the flat side of his short sword, knocking it from its perch. It twisted as it fell, and the Flesh Eaters took the squirrel to the bone almost before the animal touched the ground.

  We’re close. The rabbit will soon be mine.

  ***

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  Chapter 16 – Viper

  The thrill of the hunt pulsed through the Viper’s veins. The end was so close. He could breathe it in the air.

  The rabbit is getting sloppy. She must be weary.

  While she surely tired, he only grew more powerful, energized by the euphoric feeling that always seared through him right before a kill. And now he felt the heat more than ever before. He was practically on fire.

  Jacob wanted him to kill—no, he demanded it.

  “Hurry up, old man, we’re almost on them.”

  The Viper flew ahead, the acidic stench of Liquid Fire burning his nostrils as he raced over smoldering ash. The trail blazed in front of him.

  He dashed around a red maple and jumped over a dead branch, and slowed to a crawl, letting Jonas, who was huffing loudly, catch up. He pulled back a branch from a sapling and peered into a clearing.


  Just ahead, a boy and girl sat on a large rock outcropping eating purple fall berries, looking like a king and queen on a rocky throne. They appeared spent, their heads drooping as they leaned back on the rocks.

  Purple smears stained the girl’s cheeks and a vacant look dulled her eyes.

  The boy concentrated hard on the handful of berries between them, staring at them, mesmerized, as if they were divulging secrets only he could see.

  It was odd that the boy had discarded his gasmask. Still, it mattered not. He’d kill the boy and his sister either way.

  He studied the rest of the clearing for signs of Aaliss. The sun hung low in the sky, casting dark shadows, shadows she could use to hide. “Where are you, rabbit?”

  Jonas moved close behind him. He smelled of sweat and grease and something else—not fear, but desperation—and the scent gave the Viper pause.

  “They’re sitting ducks.” Jonas leaned close to him. “It couldn’t be easier.”

  “Yes, but where’s the rabbit? She wouldn’t leave her brother unprotected. She must be nearby.”

  “She probably doesn’t even know we’re following them. No doubt she went off to piss in the woods or hunt for game.” Jonas nodded toward the boy and girl. “All we have to do is grab the brother, put the steel edge of my axe to his throat, and she’ll come running. We’ll promise to bring them back to Eden safely, and when she disarms, we finish them all. We’ll be back in Eden tomorrow by midday.”

  A voice in the Viper’s head warned him to be careful—he’d always recognized it as the voice of Jacob—so he didn’t budge. Instead, he stared into the dense forest that ringed the rock outcropping—so many places for a rabbit to hide in those thick shadows.

  “Come on, Gabriel. I’m not afraid of a girl in these woods. I’ll be on her brother in a few seconds. I’d rather take him while there’s light. Let’s go!”

  “If you want to snatch the boy, I won’t stop you. I’d rather wait until nightfall. I want to see the rabbit before I move.”

  Jonas snorted as he stumbled into the clearing, grinning while he held his great axe in front of him.

  The boy and girl glanced at Jonas, but neither one yelled or ran.

  Something’s wrong. They should be shaking. Why aren’t they afraid?

  Still, he felt confident the rabbit would soon be his. If she lay in wait, she would show herself before Jonas reached her brother, which would provide him all the advantage he needed. Once he took her down, the boy and Soulless girl would be no challenge. Soon, she’d be his.

  If Jonas had to pay a price for his eagerness, then so be it. Jacob held his fate in his hands.

  A soft breeze blew against his face, and it felt as if Jacob had kissed him.

  ***

  Aaliss realized her mistake and cursed.

  She’d hoped the Viper would come forth, but he stayed hidden. Instead, Jonas alone rumbled his way into the opening. She couldn’t let him reach her brother, but when she let a bolt fly, the Viper would see the trap and know her location. He would gain the advantage, and he already had too many advantages to start with.

  She squinted her eyes, furious with herself.

  Jonas looked like an angry bear in his black ostrich suit. His gait unsteady as he lurched forward stiffly. The muscles on his right hand twisted the handle of his weapon, and he looked anxious for blood.

  Aaliss realized how brave Wilky had been during the entire ordeal. Jonas must be a terrifying sight for him—more than twice as wide as Wilky himself and carrying a razor-sharp axe—yet he stayed seated, trusting his sister completely, having confidence she would protect him.

  He has misplaced his trust.

  She could deal with Jonas, but the Viper would be so much harder. A lump formed in her throat as she steadied the crossbow.

  She scanned the clearing desperate for signs of the Viper. If he just showed himself, she could fire at him first.

  Jonas had reached the base of the rock formation, and she could wait no longer. She let loose a bolt and sank it into Jonas’s left thigh.

  He stared down at it, grimaced, and then looked at her.

  At first, she doubted whether the poison had worked. Maybe he was too big.

  Then the big man wobbled. He raised his axe to fling it at her, but his strength left him and it clanged uselessly against the rock. He followed a second later with a loud thud.

  She spotted movement on the far side of the clearing out of the corner of her eye. A branch snapped, or maybe she had imagined it, or maybe the wind had gusted. It mattered not; either way, they had to run.

  She leapt from her hiding spot.

  Gemma bolted in the direction where Aaliss had seen movement.

  A shadow obscured Wilky’s face as he swung his gaze between Aaliss and Gemma.

  “No, Wilky. Don’t chase her. She’s going the wrong way! Let her go! Come with me!”

  He stood frozen for a heartbeat, and then raced after Gemma.

  Aaliss groaned and ran after them, fully expecting to be taken down by the Viper at any moment. She twisted around an oak, and jumped over a bush when she heard horses approaching. “Wilky! No!”

  Horses meant Soulless, and Soulless were almost as dangerous as the Viper.

  She almost grabbed him before they broke free of the forest, but he had a step on her as they cleared the tree line and emerged onto a grass field.

  Six horsemen approached with leather cloaks and longswords hung from their hips.

  Wilky stopped.

  Gemma ran to them and shouted, “Fintan!”

  Aaliss’s mind swirled as she assessed the situation in a heartbeat. She saw how the battle would play out before it began. Her brain just worked that way, and it was her best advantage. She didn’t have to think about what to do; her mind kept her one step ahead of everyone else. People were predictable, and all she needed was the smallest clues to know what they would do.

  The lead horsemen rode aggressively with a hint of a smile on his lips. He thirsted for power, was overconfident, and would blunder ahead at a full gallop.

  The rider behind him grinned foolishly and leaned back in his saddle. Arrogant and pampered, he had no desire to be first.

  The last horsemen struggled to keep control of his animal. Weak, he would bolt at the first sign of trouble.

  Aaliss mapped out her plan. She’d shoot the lead horsemen in the throat. The second rider would slow and give her time to reload, so she could take him in the chest with another bolt. She wouldn’t have time to get off a third shot before the next horsemen closed in on her, so she’d have to duck low as he swung his sword at her head, slice her blade into his leg, and pull him from the saddle. If she moved fast enough, she’d be able to mount the horse, urge it forward, catch the fourth rider by surprise, and kill him with a thrust into his chest. The last two would turn and race away. The entire fight would take no more than two minutes.

  She pulled back the crossbow’s elastic cord and a bolt slotted in place. Before she shot, however, came the one wildcard she could never account for.

  Wilky jumped in front of her and cried, “Stop!” He waved his hands in her face to prevent her from letting the bolt go, and within seconds it was too late.

  The horsemen surrounded them, and her chances of killing them plummetted.

  ***

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  Chapter 17 – Fintan

  Fintan and the horses started the day fresh and full of energy, but that was hours ago. After a long day in the field, the horses trudged along like they were pulling plows, as tired of the fruitless search as Fintan and the other riders.

  Fintan gnawed on a piece of dried beef.

  Cormac’s gray colt tried to turn around when Cormac loosened his reins to complain to Fintan, “I’m starving. What are you eating? Give me some!”

  Fintan grabbed another strip of meat from his bag. “You should have brought your own food.” He shot Cormac a smug smile and popped the strip of beef into h
is mouth.

  Cormac’s eyes rested on Fintan’s saddlebag, and he spoke with a sinister grumble. “What else do you have in there?”

  Fintan smiled mischievously. “My saddlebag has my stuff. You have your own bag.”

  “I didn’t know we’d be out all day looking for Gemma.” Cormac lowered his voice. “Crazy girl, Gemma.”

  “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

  The search party traveled in a loose formation heading north, with Fintan and Cormac in the center. So far they had found nothing, having stayed on the edge of the Witches’ Wood without venturing too deeply into the forest.

  Eamon’s group had gone south, and Dermot led the party that searched deepest into the woods, which was fine with Fintan because the Witches’ Woods scared him.

  When they started the search he proclaimed that they should look along the outskirts since Gemma wouldn’t travel in too far. Everyone knew the real reason he didn’t want to tread too deeply, and no one objected.

  “I’ve heard you call her worse,” Cormac retorted, looking miserable. “Do you have any more food?”

  “You’ll never find out.” Fintan laughed. “Get any closer, and we’ll duel to the death.” Fintan playfully half-pulled his sword from its sheath.

  He wouldn’t fully unsheathe it. Among the Butchers, once someone unsheathed a sword in anger, it must taste blood to be re-sheathed, lest one risk the displeasure of the heavens. Hasty warriors had been known to cut themselves to keep the heavens satisfied. Better to lose a little blood than suffer the consequences of vengeful gods.

  Cormac snorted. “We should be heading back soon, anyway. The light is fading, and we’ve found no trace of Gemma. Maybe Dermot or Eamon have already rescued her, and we’re just out here riding for pleasure.”

  Fintan re-sheathed his sword. “That would be my luck. Waste an entire day and one of my brothers gets to play the hero.” He lifted his gaze toward the darkening sky and found something curious. “Look at that fire.”

  Cormac reined up close to him. “Blue flames? I’ve never seen a fire with such bright blue flames.”