by T. A. White
Clark winced.
“I didn’t know you’d been given your own team,” Clark said, trying to steer the subject to something less grim.
“Haven’t been,” Eamon said. “Our scout master died in route. I was next in command.”
“Fate’s a funny bitch, ain’t she?” Clark commiserated. “I know it’s not the best way to assume command but congratulations anyways.”
“Thanks, kid. You too. I know you’ve been looking to lose the yellow for a while.”
Clark grinned, letting the seriousness of the past few minutes drop. “The green looks good on me, doesn’t it?” He pretended to preen despite not having a spot of green anywhere on his person. “Much better than that yellow.”
“It does indeed,” Eamon agreed.
“Hey, did you see that book your boy’s got?” Clark asked, jerking his thumb at Shea.
That rat bastard was telling on her!
She slid the book out of sight as she became the center of attention. Clark rolled his eyes and reached around her as she tried to block him. He pulled the book out of her resisting fingers.
“Get a look at this. I bet there’s even an entry about revenants in here.” He flipped through the worn pages, taking care not to handle them too roughly, while Eamon peered over his shoulder in curiosity.
“Here it is.” Clark shoved the book, opened to the entry in question, into Eamon’s hands.
Eamon’s eyebrows lowered as his eyes moved from side to side. Shea’s fingers itched to snatch it away from him. She didn’t like people looking through her things.
She glared at Clark whose lips twitched in answer.
Eamon flipped the page and read to the end of the entry before looking up at Shea. “This is really detailed.”
“I’ve encountered them a time or two in the past.”
“From the sound of this, more than a time or two.”
She lifted a shoulder and found a spot to stare at on his chest, not wanting to answer the questions she knew were in his eyes.
She could feel the heat of his stare on her bent head as he looked from her to the book in his hands. She imagined he knew how unlikely it was for the average Lowlander to have compiled the information in the book. For starters, most Lowlanders couldn’t read or write. Beyond that, the kinds of things noted in the entries weren’t something a regular person would notice. It was the kind of stuff people only gleaned after extensive training and experience. Lots of experience. No doubt Eamon was asking himself a lot of questions right now. Questions Shea couldn’t afford for him to ask.
Snapping the book shut, he said, “Come with me.”
Shea’s head shot up to see Eamon moving quickly away from her. Confused and with her mouth slightly open in shock, she glanced at Clark who watched with a bright look of interest. He shrugged. “Don’t look at me. You’d best follow. Eamon doesn’t like repeating things.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she leapt into motion, catching up with Eamon and tagging along behind him as he threaded through the camp.
“Sir.” Eamon stopped in front of Perry and waited to be acknowledged.
“What is it?”
Eamon knelt down and slid the book in front of Perry. “You might want to read this.”
The corner of Perry’s mouth pulled down in displeasure. “I don’t have time for games. There’s a-“
His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the smooth charcoal lines rendering a revenant. With a skeptical glance at Eamon, he picked up the book and read the description. When he was done, he leaned back, tapping the book on the makeshift table while studying Eamon and then Shea in turn.
“Where did you get this?”
Eamon gestured behind him at Shea. “It’s the boy’s.”
Those fierce eyes focused on Shea, studying her with a greater intensity than they had earlier that afternoon.
“This pickleberry juice.” Perry checked the journal to make sure he was saying it right. “Is it hard to make?”
Eamon nudged her when she was silent a moment too long. “Not at all, sir. All you need to do is crush the berries against your clothing and skin. The plants are all over these hills.”
Perry leaned forward placing the book in front of Eamon. “Ensure this information is distributed to my scouts and then the rest of the company. Send him and several parties out to find these berries. Enough for the entire company.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eamon spun and strode off. Shea lingered a moment looking in slight confusion between his retreating back and Perry, who was examining the map. Then she trailed after Eamon as he pulled several men from their campfires and assembled them in a small gathering.
Buck stopped by Shea and squinted at the group. “What’s going on?”
Clark interrupted before Shea opened her mouth. “Your boy there might’ve given us a fighting chance tomorrow.”
Shea disagreed. “I don’t think that information is going to have the effect you think it will. It was just an observation I made during my last encounter. It’s never been verified.”
Clark shrugged. “Maybe not, but we know more about the enemy than we did an hour ago. If nothing else, it’ll help the soldiers see the beast as something that’s killable. You don’t know how important that is. If they think something is impossible before they even start, they won’t last long. This way they have hope. Sometimes that makes all the difference.”
Clark watched as Eamon held up the book and explained what needed to get done before the morning. The men and women listened intently, their faces focused as they internalized his words.
Shea followed his gaze. All this time writing her observations down thinking nobody would ever see them, much less think them relevant. At times she had struggled to keep going as she wondered at the point of continuing.
This, in some small fashion, was her dream realized but not in any way she had ever imagined.
Chapter Ten
Shea tilted her head back to examine the gnarled branches of a tree. The dead forest inhabited a thin strip of land only a few hundred meters wide but stretched in either direction. Charred from some long ago fire, the trees’ bark gleamed white and smooth against a sky pregnant with rain clouds.
With every step, fine ash floated up from the scorched earth. It was a barren wasteland where nothing grew, marking the beginning of the revenant’s territory.
There should have been some sign that the earth was healing, a glimpse of green against the unrelenting gray and black, birds returning to make nests. Something. Instead, it was just a strip of land that the living had permanently abandoned.
What could have happened here to so totally consign the area to the realm of the dead?
Clark had told her that when Perry’s men fled past the first dead tree the revenants refused to step foot onto the scorched land, instead pacing back and forth as if an invisible wall separated them from their prey. Shea shivered. She could see why. Even the still air made her think of dead and decaying things.
Even knowing that revenants waited on the other side, she looked forward to putting this dreadful place behind her.
Quiet gripped the morning. There was none of the neighborly chatter that usually characterized a movement. Everyone jumped at shadows. Even yesterday’s cheerful Clark had gone missing, leaving a watchful stranger whose hand never strayed far from the blade at his hip.
There was a collective inhale when the men stepped over the clear line dividing the dead zone from revenant territory. A pall dropped over the group, turning the mood thick and heavy with grim anticipation.
A heightened awareness took hold as everyone anticipated an attack.
As the morning wore on, the group moved further into revenant territory. The forest here was thin and sparse and the underbrush thick. It made it challenging to move quickly, especially since they were going out of their way to avoid making noise. The rolling hills made it difficult to see any distance, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing bec
ause it might hide them from the revenants but it would also prevent them from seeing the revenants approaching until it was too late.
It was decided last night that riding horses would make them easy pickings for the revenants as the creature was too small to hit with a sword from horseback but was perfectly capable of leaping up to tear out a horse’s throat or drag a rider off its back.
Sweat dampened Shea’s hair as she trailed behind Eamon. They’d walked a fair amount, but not nearly as far as she’d have liked. Having a large party like this made it difficult to move with speed, especially when they were trying to be as stealthy as possible.
They were heading west and slightly south, hoping to skirt along the edge of the beasts’ territory.
A low warble from the front of the line alerted Shea and the others. A man held up his closed fist, signaling them to stop and find cover if possible. He pointed at the ridge running parallel to them.
A single revenant was silhouetted against the sky, its head lifted proudly as it glared out across its territory. Shea held her breath. If it let loose an ululating wail, they were all dead.
A sigh went through the company when it disappeared back into the brush.
“That’s it? That’s what everybody is so afraid of?” Sam asked. “It can’t be too difficult to kill that thing.”
Eamon cuffed him on the back of his head. “Quiet.”
“It might be easy to kill one on one,” a man said softly from behind Shea, “but it hunts in packs. I’ve never seen a more cunning animal.”
“Looks like your little berries worked, boy,” the man told Shea.
She glanced at her companions. “It works better if you all would just. Quit. Talking.”
A choked noise came from Eamon.
She frowned at him. He looked away, but not before Shea caught a hint of a smile.
Thought it was funny, did he? Well, she’d see how funny he thought it was when the revenant returned to check out all this noise. The berries disguised their scent. They didn’t mask sound.
The march resumed. The men held themselves in a constant state of readiness, with hands clutched around weapons.
The first test was passed. If they were going to retreat, now was the time.
The commander ordered them forward, further into revenant territory.
The sounds of animal life were muted in these woods. That had less to do with the company’s presence and more to do with the revenants acting like a scourge on the earth. They had no sense of self preservation. They killed and killed until there was nothing left. Then they would move on like a pestilence. Intelligent they might be, but they had no sense of restraint. They were extremely aggressive to everything.
They had an amazing sense of smell, which made up for their poor eyesight. Pickleberries were one of the most pungent smelling plants in the Highlands or Lowlands, and even a human could smell a small bush from a fair distance. Before they had set out that morning, each man had been instructed to rub crushed pickleberries on his pulse points, neck, chest, groin, and under the arms, in the hopes that the smell would conceal his scent.
It was better to slip through unseen than try to fight them off one by one.
And it seemed to be working too, until one of the beasts stumbled through the brush right on top of them.
Before Shea could move or shout, a man from Saw Grass drew his blade and threw himself at the revenant. Two men followed, killing the beast before it could emit more than a pained yip.
“Shit,” Shea breathed.
There was a heartbeat of silence and then a chorus of screeching howls mourned their pack mate’s death. The din of dozens of revenants rose as they raced through the hills all around them.
“That is not a small pack,” Shea observed softly, listening.
“Let’s move,” Perry’s low voice carried down the ranks.
The men surged up the hill, breaking into several smaller groups as they went, hoping that they could escape detection from the revenant’s weak eyesight.
Shea’s legs pumped as she stayed with Eamon and Buck who ran parallel along the hill. She saw one of the men who had slayed the revenant running to the right of them.
“Get rid of your blade,” Shea shouted.
His head jerked toward her, but he ignored her, picking up his pace. She growled and surged forward, dogging his steps.
“Your blade. Get rid of it. They can smell the blood.”
Her message given, she veered back towards Eamon and the rest. It was up to him if he wanted to listen.
A revenant surged into view, his lips bared in a snarl, drool dangling in thick ropes from its open mouth. Shea’s group froze as the beast lifted its nose, sniffing the air suspiciously, its milky white eyes moving right over them.
The creature’s skin, leathery and black like a bat’s wings, was closer to a reptiles than a mammal’s. Its front legs were slightly longer than the ones in the back. There were no ears on its broad, flat head, only small slits for the ear canal. It also had no tail.
It bared its teeth again before darting off.
“Thank the gods,” someone whispered.
“Let’s go,” Eamon said softly. “We need to make the rendezvous.”
In single file, they moved through the wood. Every time a revenant’s distinctive hunting call echoed over the hills, Shea tensed then relaxed when there was no accompanying human scream.
So far, it looked like the plan was working. But for how long?
The men in Shea’s group were moving at a fast clip towards the next landmark where they would regroup with the others. It couldn’t be far now.
Shea’s breath sawed in and out of her lungs as she raced after Buck. He was a quick little fucker and keeping up with him took every ounce of concentration she had.
She wasn’t the only one breathing heavy either.
“Revenant!” came the shout.
“Idiot,” Shea muttered. He should have stayed silent.
There was a high-pitched scream.
He wouldn’t be the last to fall. The pickleberry juice was wearing off. It was bound to happen with all this sweating. Shea had warned them that it was likely to fade the more they moved. It’s why they had spent half the night working on contingency plans.
The juice had done its job by getting them over halfway through the territory and to the rally point, but now that the ruse had been discovered, it wouldn’t work on this particular group of revenants again.
“We’ve still got a quarter mile to the next point,” Eamon swore.
“Told you, these fuckers are smart,” Shea panted.
“Pick up the pace, you slackers.”
The pace quickened, the haunting wails of the revenants lending motivation to those who were tiring.
“There,” Clark shouted.
Shea’s heart leapt at the sight of the overhang where they planned to make their stand. The space carved into the side of the hill created a large hollow that was easily defensible.
Reaching it, the men spun around, placing the overhang at their back and facing their enemy. Shea, Eamon and Buck did the same, holding their weapons at the ready and watching as the last of their party came into view.
“Come on, you lot,” Eamon shouted. “Get into position.”
Sweat dripped down Shea’s forehead, and she urgently wished for something to drink. A rustle of bushes caught her eyes. She watched as shadows snaked through the trees.
She screamed, “Run.”
Revenants burst from the trees, latching onto legs and dragging their prey, screaming, back into the shadows.
“Don’t break formation,” Perry roared as several men moved toward their fallen comrades. “Grieve later. Raise your sword and avenge your comrades.”
There was a long drawn out scream that only broke long enough for the man to draw breath.
“Why don’t they kill him?” Clark asked.
“Intimidation,” Shea said, scanning the trees for movement. “They’re trying
to get in your head and scare you. It’s not easy listening to a person you know being eaten alive.”
“How many do you think are out there?” a man asked.
“Fifty, maybe more,” Eamon said.
“Here they come.”
Revenants crept from the cover of the underbrush, their heads lowered and teeth gleaming white as they darted up to the line of men, testing their defenses. They wove back and forth, avoiding the slash of steel.
“Stay on line,” Perry screamed as several men started to rush to meet the revenants.
“Come on, you demon spawn,” a man shouted on their left.
The revenant tormenting him slunk back and then lunged, never coming into range, and letting out an eerie cackle when the man hacked at him uselessly.
“Where are the rest?” Shea asked, softly.
There were only ten or fifteen of the beasts in the clearing with them. From what she knew of the beasts, they enjoyed fresh prey and wouldn’t miss this, especially after their pack mates had been slain.
So, where were the rest?
A set of teeth closed around her boot, yanking her feet out from under her and dragging her off the line. It shook its head fiercely, trying to get at the skin beneath the leather. She kicked at it with her other foot, the blow glancing off its head but not deterring it at all. She’d dropped her blade when it grabbed her, and her hands scrabbled at the dirt searching for a weapon.
Getting nowhere with her boot, it dropped her leg and lunged at her torso. She raised her hands protecting her face and neck. A blade pierced its eye, freezing it in its tracks. Shea followed the blade to Eamon who planted a boot in its side, pushing it off his sword.
“Stop wool gathering. I don’t have time to be babysitting,” he snapped, keeping a watchful eye out as Shea climbed to her feet.
She turned to get back on line, glancing up as she did. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the revenants amassing on the ledge above. They were preparing to jump on the men below.
Guess she’d found where the rest of the little bastards went.
She pointed up, yelling, “Behind you. Cover your backs.”
As if on cue, half the men pivoted while the rest stepped forward swinging their blades to meet the ones on the ground. Arrows flew, picking several of the revenants above off, but there were too many.
