Without making any noise, wanting to draw as little attention as possible, Arturo ran. He was ready for the first ash creature in his path, and sidestepped its outreached hands at the last second, decapitating it, not daring to stop running. His short scuffle allowed the militia to catch up with him, allowing them to continue running side by side with him. This actually made things more difficult when the next creature reached them, as Arturo found himself stuck between the villagers, unable to move as much as he would like. Fortunately, the two were not incapable, and worked together to tackle the next ash warrior, the woman slicing at the creature’s arms, distracting it long enough for the man to take its head.
They finally reached the cottage, Arturo dispatching another grey creature just outside its main door. He ushered the villagers inside, taking a moment to glance behind.
The Shepherdess’ black cloud was much closer to Calvario now. Her silhouette overshadowed the entire horizon, seeming to almost loom over the village, blocking out most of the daylight. It reminded Arturo of the rain season back on his father’s estate, when he was able to watch towering rain clouds advancing over the flat plains, the rain falling from them so thick that it was impossible to tell where the cloud ended and the rainfall began. The figure of the Shepherdess the same, but was a wall of blackness, extending from the Wildland floor to the heavens themselves.
There were four ash creatures running towards his cottage, having picked up his scent during the short sprint. Arturo glanced across the village to see Yizel and five - maybe six - other people making a similar dash towards one of the other cottages.
Queen’s Blessing, he thought at the sight of his companion, still alive.
Sounds of commotion from behind distracted him. His militia were already engaged in combat, with three ash people now inside the building. Arturo made to close the door, then realised there was not one there. The building had been breached before they had arrived.
An ash warrior reached at him from outside. Arturo carved a line down the middle of its head, then, not letting himself assume that was enough to dispatch it, removed the head from the body.
A cry from behind made him turn. The militia were being forced back, and Arturo was surprised to see tears running down both their faces. Then Arturo realised one of the ash creatures wore a simple apron and dress, and the other was a young man in farmer’s clothing. These were people from the village - probably the former inhabitants of this house - already raised by the Shepherdess’ powers. The creatures were distracted by the promise of an easy kill, allowing Arturo to quickly deal with them from behind. The militia then set upon the final ash warrior - a man in garb Arturo did not recognise - allowing Arturo to turn his attention to the doorway again.
The building Yizel had run to was mobbed from the outside, almost two dozen grey bodies trying to press to the openings of it. She had more blades than he did, but even that would not be good enough. They needed to move faster.
“Again,” he shouted to the militia, diving out of the doorway, not looking to see if he was being followed.
As Arturo had suspected, many of the ash creatures surrounding Yizel broke away to follow him. He heard one of the villagers from behind gasp as they did so, and Arturo could understand why. Just one touch would be enough to kill flesh, and a snake’s nest of searching fingers were now making their way towards them.
Almost reaching the next cottage, a cry from behind caused Arturo to turn around. One of the ash creatures had reached the male villager, lunging at his ankle, causing him to trip to the dirt. The woman paused to look back at her companion, and Arturo could tell she was contemplating going back for the fallen man.
“Keep running!” Arturo shouted, even as a second ash creature got its hands to the fallen man’s head. There was no pain on the villager’s face, but instead a look of complete helplessness as the colour bleached from him. Arturo turned back, diving into the cottage, ready to deal with whatever waited inside. There was only one dead man in here, and Arturo took its head immediately. The remaining militia member ran inside moments later, and Arturo took up position in the doorway, giving his companion time to catch her breath.
“Can’t stop,” Arturo panted, and the villager nodded back at him, gasping for breath. “Can’t hold a cottage with only two of us. Almost at the church.”
That was a lie. They were not even half the distance from the outskirts to the secure building.
Arturo looked outside again, then back at the older woman. She was clearly exhausted, sweat sticking her grey-streaked hair to her face.
“They’re concentrating on the centre of the village now,” he told her. “I imagine you’ve got a pretty good chance if you make a run for the Wilds, away from all of this. Get to the river and you should be safe from them.”
Hope bloomed briefly on her face, but then she dismissed it with a shake of her head. “I have children in there,” she said, moving her head to indicate the direction of the church. “Not leaving them behind.”
Arturo nodded in respect. “Camila, right?” he asked, recalling her name from his brief training session with the militia. The woman nodded, a simple motion made erratic through her nervousness. “Let’s go save your kids.”
Another wave of ash creatures hit the cottage. Arturo dealt with the ones that piled into the doorway, but he could hear multiple moans from behind him, a number of different windows being entered.
“Too many,” Camila gasped, and Arturo could hear her frantic movements, doing her best to dance between all of the windows.
Suddenly, the doorway before him was empty.
“A gap - go!”
Arturo ran into the fading sunlight again, the villager close behind. They sprinted across the dirt, moving to dispatch stray ash warriors that got too close.
However, moments before they made it to the next cottage, grey figures rushed out of it. Half a dozen of the dead things, reaching out to dampen the remaining sparks of life in the village.
“Queen’s tits - move, move!”
He knew there was no way they could take on that many, out in the open, and he panicked. He changed the direction he was running, veering off to the left, with no plan for what to do next. It was a stupid manoeuvre, he realised as soon as he did it - it would not help them avoid that group of enemies, but it did take them further from the safety of the cottages.
“They’re here!” Camila bellowed, her cry accompanied by the grunt of someone shouting while in combat.
Arturo turned to help, and his heart plummeted. The group of ash warriors were surrounding the villager, and more from nearby buildings were running to them.
Can’t help her now, Arturo thought, even as Camila took the heads from two former bandits in a single blow. Got to keep running.
For a half heartbeat, Arturo paused. He had heard those words in his head in Crazy Raccoon’s voice.
Wrinkling up his nose, Arturo ran back to Camila.
“Stand back to back,” he shouted, dispatching an ash warrior that was ready to grab the woman from behind. “Don’t let them get close.”
An ash warrior’s hands came dangerously close to Arturo’s face but he removed the arm as quick as possible, jumping back into the villager and throwing both of them momentarily off-balance. Thankfully, they were able to right themselves and begin a punishing rhythm of slashing and chopping. Unlike human assailants, these ash warriors were not afraid of the steel death that Arturo held in his hands, did not balk at the numbers that fell before the cornered Bravador. Normally losses like this would force an opponent to reconsider, realising that many of them would fall before being able to reach the swordfighters in the middle. Unfortunately, the ash warriors were not concerned for their own safety, controlled by an outside force to touch and turn Arturo and the militia woman at all costs. They pushed in on him, more gathering on the outside, pressing forward in a tight ring, ready to finish them off.
Suddenly, the crowds parted before Arturo. It was Yizel and her survivi
ng militia. Insanely, instead of using Arturo’s death as a diversion to allow them to reach the church, these brave men and women had chosen to plunge into the middle of the village green and rescue him. He could not help but give a grin when he saw the Shaven appear through the dissipating ash creatures.
“Thank you,” he said, simply, not letting his blade stop moving. He took a quick head count of Yizel’s people and noticed that at least one of them had fallen since he had last spied her, as she now had only five remaining.
“Can we make straight for the church?” Yizel shouted, most of her attention on the grey bodies before her.
Arturo scanned the village. Most of the ash warriors were now focussed on them, probably nearing three dozen, but those numbers were reducing. More were still appearing on the outskirts of the village, and close behind them loomed the Shepherdess’ cloud. Judging by how quickly it was moving, Arturo gave it a minute or two at best before that blackness enveloped the village. Between them and the church, even if they could break through the mob packed tight around them, too many ash warriors still moved, dashing from cottage to cottage, trying to seek out any survivors. The church itself had amassed the largest number of them, grey figures hugging its walls.
“Don’t think so,” he replied, eventually. “Too many. Church looks like it’s in trouble too, so we need to get there quick.”
“Okay,” Yizel said, “we push for the nearest cottage. Go.”
With Arturo and Yizel taking point, the rest of the militia forming a protective circle in the centre, they pushed forward, chopping away at their enemies, aiming for their heads. Slowly, they inched towards the cottage. Their steel outmatched the strength of numbers that the ash warriors had, and Arturo was thankful that no more died in this last push to safety. Arturo and Yizel stormed into the building, quickly dispatching the three grey figures inside. This cottage was thankfully small, with only two windows and the single doorway leading in, easy to defend. As soon as they had all gotten inside it was a simple enough job to set up sentries at the important entry points. Once the ash warriors realised it was going to be difficult getting inside, most of them moved their attention elsewhere.
“Probably heading to the church,” Arturo said. “The copper doors will save them, but just the sheer weight of those bodies pressing against the walls will find some kind of weakness, eventually. We’ve got to get there before the Shepherdess comes. They’ll need us when that happens. They’ll be breached soon enough.”
“We’ll begin moving together, then?” Yizel said. “Seems to have done us well so far.”
Arturo felt a flush of shame, thinking of the people he had lost, when Yizel had managed to keep so many alive. Asking the militia guarding the doorway to step aside, Arturo took advantage of the lull in attacks to look at what was still left to deal with. Around the church the crowd of grey warriors was denser, and a brief glance told him there would be no forcing their way past that mob. However, he did spy something that gave him a glimmer of hope.
“No chance of getting in on the ground,” he told Yizel, “but we might have other options. The buildings in this part of the village are much closer together. I reckon if we go on the roof, we might be able to jump our way across to the church.”
Several of the militia, those who had worked their way forward with Yizel, laughed at the suggestion, but Arturo could see the Shaven contemplating it.
“Hoist me up, let me have a look,” she said to the closest two men.
Happy to obey, the men heaved her up to the beams above, and Yizel smashed a hole in the thin wooden covering and pulled herself onto the roof. After a second, she shouted back down to them.
“It can work. Get up here.”
They scrambled to create a makeshift staircase using the few bits of furniture that remained, and soon Arturo and the rest of the remaining militia members were on the roof of the cottage. Below them, the ash warriors must have realised what was happening, and had stormed back into the cottage, but it was no use. Death must have stolen much of their dexterity, for they were unable to follow the living, their deadly touch disintegrating the furniture when they tried to climb it.
Arturo scanned the rooftops that lay between them and the church. It was possible, but none of these would be easy jumps.
Yizel was first to go. She took a long run-up and leapt across to the next building. She landed without much of an issue, using her hands to brace herself as she fell forward onto the wooden shingles that tiled the roof. She moved out of the way, allowing the first of the militia to jump across.
The first to jump, one of Yizel’s companions, did not make it. The woman slammed into the corner of the roof, desperately grasping for a firm hold on the wood. A dangling leg was all the ash warriors below needed, and they tugged at her, sending her sprawling backwards, disappearing under grey fingers. Arturo did his best to ignore her dying screams as he ushered the next man to jump. This man, breathing heavily, landed similarly to Yizel, cushioning the landing with his chest and his face. He looked back with a glory-fuelled grin, waving for the next to go, before joining Yizel in preparing to jump to the next rooftop. Arturo waited until the end. Only one more stumbled at the landing, but his companions grabbed him just before he teetered backwards. It was Arturo’s turn. He took a deep breath, ran, and tripped.
Unable to stop himself, he stumbled over the edge of the building, giving a final push at the edge of the roof, but nowhere near enough to reach the other side. He screamed, but found himself suspended over the crowds of hungry fingers waiting below. He looked up to see that Camila, his sole surviving militia member, had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, hauling him to safety.
He gave her a nervous grin. “Thanks.”
She nodded in reply, then smiled at him through her wild, sweat-matted hair. “My children will want to meet the masked man who saved my life.”
The smile died on Camila’s face as a thin metal blade erupted from her chest.
Arturo stared in horror as the blade withdrew. Camila was still looking at him, but Arturo could tell she was already dead, the life faded from her eyes. Her body fell over the edge of the building to the hungry hands below, but Arturo only had eyes for what was standing behind her.
Procopio.
It was the bandit leader, or at least the shade of what remained of him, animated now as an ash warrior at the Shepherdess’ command. Behind Procopio was the hole in the roof he had climbed through, a route that seemed to be thankfully undiscovered by any other of the ash warriors yet. The dead man stood there, grey, cracked face grinning at Arturo, his blood-covered blade ready to strike, seeming to ooze a vitality that all of the Shepherdess’ other creations did not. Death had turned the handprint scar on his face a bleached white, matched only by the glare of his teeth, his mouth fixed in an open rictus grin.
From behind Procopio, the other two militia members remaining on the same rooftop jumped at him, machetes ready to swing. The dead man moved with a swiftness that caught Arturo’s breath, side-stepping their combined attacks, running one through and kicking the other off the roof. The bandit leader still retained his Knack, not destroyed by its owner’s death.
Arturo glanced at Yizel, standing wide-eyed on the next rooftop with the three remaining members of Calvario’s militia, preparing to jump back to help Arturo.
The Bravadori could do with someone like you.
“Go!” Arturo shouted, beckoning towards the church tower, now only two rooftops away. “I’ll hold him off. We need as many as possible to make it into the church. Go protect the rest of the village.”
Yizel hesitated, her doubt evident.
Arturo smiled at her. “I can do this, Yizel. I’ll be right behind you.”
She nodded, motioned to her militia, and continued to leap to the next building. If Arturo could buy her time, they would be at the church in less than a minute.
Arturo turned back to the ashen Procopio, whose white teeth flashed in his mirthless grin. Time slowed, A
rturo’s Knack letting him see that the creature was about to lunge, and stepped back to distance himself from Procopio’s sword. By the confident manner with which Procopio held his blade, Arturo could sense how strong the dead man’s Knack was.
I can’t do this, Arturo thought, panicking. Every time I’ve gone up against another Knack, I’ve failed. If I fight here, I die.
In the seconds remaining to him, Arturo glanced over at Yizel, now having made it to the final rooftop, readying herself and her team for their leap onto the church tower’s walls.
Arturo turned back towards his foe, face grim, determined.
If this is it, if I am to die here, Great Mouse Spirit, let me make my death a worthy one.
Time sped up, Arturo let out a cry, then rushed forward.
Yizel slammed against the bell tower wall, breath rushing out of her lungs. She gripped tight to the uneven plasterwork, fingertips already aching, finding impossible finger holds and clinging to them. Thumps close to her told Yizel the others had jumped as well. Twin cries grabbed her attention, and she darted her head around just in time to see two of the militia falling to the grasp of the ash warriors below. The final one, an older man, gripped tight to the wall below her, his eyes wide with terror.
Queen’s tits, she thought. Going with just four was bad enough. What good will two more swords make? If we can even get to the top.
She grunted at the man below her, then began the agonising climb upwards. Her arms ached, but she felt the climb in her fingers more, using muscles she did not know she had. From a distance, the bell tower wall had seemed almost sheer, but she thanked the Queen now for the uneven plasterwork, the only source of handholds for her to climb up. When she could find none to support her, she made her own, pounding on the masonry work with the pommel of her dagger until a hole was formed. Otherwise, she kept the blade in her teeth. Behind her, the militia man seemed to be coping well, or at least as well as could be imagined in such a situation - she could hear him puffing below, not letting himself fall behind. It was a race against time, trying to climb quicker than the exhaustion of their fingers and arms, and quicker than the Shepherdess’ looming ash cloud.
Those Brave, Foolish Souls from the City of Swords: A standalone Yarnsworld novel Page 27
