Revenant

by Fergal F. Nally

  Then he noticed the gash in the creature’s side was not healing, it was widening. Bits of dead armour were falling off in great gouts. Soon other gashes appeared in the macabre armour. Deceased voices filled the chamber, torn from long dead throats. A chorus of pain welled up in the air and drowned Halvdan’s thoughts.

  He watched in dread fascination as the thing’s tendrils thrashed, feet away from his face, the creature convulsed, its yellow centre pulsing, straining at its own skin, trying to burst. Then it happened, Halvdan’s poison reached and penetrated the thing’s brain hundreds of feet below, somewhere unreachable, deep in the labyrinth.

  Halvdan breathed heavily, his heart raced, he felt his strength returning, the wellspring connecting with his consciousness. The translucent panther beside him shimmered, becoming faint, then disappeared returning to the veil.

  He got to his feet as his enemy died. Its skin did not burst, instead it imploded, shrivelling and shrinking. Its tendrils snapped back, withering to dust. He stood his ground and watched until the creature stopped moving.

  Halvdan nodded and spoke to the labyrinth. “It is the way.”

  Chapter 29: The Ghost Within

  Jack took a deep breath.

  He was not good in confined spaces, memories haunted him from a lifetime ago. A different life and world, a different war.

  He was back there. As always, his demons just below the surface. The flashbacks were bright, startling light against deepest darkness. There was never pain only numbness. The blood, sounds and screams however always felt real.

  The killing felt real.

  He was back in Sangin, Helmand, Afghanistan. JDAM strikes, collateral damage. Scouting fire team. A verse from the Book of Job found him; “To the land of deepest night, of utter darkness and disorder where even the light is like darkness.” Seven and a wake up, dreaming of home. Movement ahead amongst the rubble, drop to the dirt, incoming mortar rounds, RPGs. Explosions, deafness, blood, body parts, his squad obliterated. Silence, shapes, medics, evac, blackout.

  Didn’t even fire a shot. My squad gone.

  Jack stumbled on a greasy step, he reached out placing his hand on the stair wall arresting his fall. His mind snapped back to the present, he admonished himself.

  Idiot! Focus, Raven needs you, don’t lose it.

  He reached the bottom of the steps, thirty or so. He stood letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. Slowly, the ghost of an image revealed itself, a glowing shape hovered before him. His breathing loud in his head, he held his breath and heard the trickle of water. He approached the ghostly shape, its outline becoming firmer. He was in a natural grotto, an underground spring, moss covered rocks at his feet.

  He bent down, leaned in towards the spring and saw it formed a natural pool. He stared into the water, specks of green luminescence darted to and fro. Living things or healing energy? No matter, he remembered what Sabine had said earlier about the healing properties of these sites.

  Jack tore clumps of moss from the stones and soaked them in the spring water. He turned and climbed the steps back to the clearing above. The light had faded in the short time he had been underground. He saw Sabine cradling Raven at the edge of the stone circle. He rushed towards them holding the dripping moss in his hands.

  “Do it, do it quick!” urged Sabine.

  Jack held the moss over Raven’s face. Sabine opened her sister’s mouth, Jack allowed the moss to drip freely onto Raven’s tongue. He squeezed the moss and more water disappeared down Raven’s throat. Without warning she spluttered, coughing. Sabine sat her up, rubbing her back.

  “Come on Raven, come back, it’s not your time.” Sabine repeated her words three times before Jack realised she was crying.

  Jack watched as Raven’s body tensed, her fingers clawed at the earth and her head snapped up, looking directly at him.

  “I can see your face! I can see, I can see, I can see…” Raven’s frightened voice pierced the night air.

  Sabine shouted with joy. “Raven you’re back. You were gone. I thought you’d left me…”

  Jack crouched down beside the two sisters and embraced them. “Well that was something,” he said. “That was really something.”

  ~

  That night they slept within the stone circle. It felt safe, a haven of sorts. Raven woke first thing next morning. In the half-light she opened her eyes fresh from sleep. She let out a startled cry, waking the others.

  “Raven what’s wrong?” Sabine said.

  “I can see.” Raven said simply.

  “I know, isn’t it wonderful! ” Sabine replied.

  Raven held her hands up to her eyes and covered them, letting in light through her fingers. Tears streamed down her face. “Yes, it’s wonderful, so wonderful.”

  Sabine hugged her sister.

  “I thought it was a dream, I thought I’d wake up and it wouldn’t be true. Sabine I’ve missed so much over the years since they took my sight. I’ve gained so much now.” Raven turned to Jack. “Thank you Jack, thank you for doing what you did.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Jack said. “Thank the stones or whatever power lies beneath them.”

  “Thank the Erthe, she gives to those who are open to her gifts. You were open to her my sister,” Sabine declared.

  They remained in silence for a few minutes each one not wanting to break the magic of the moment. Finally Jack spoke. “Where do we go from here?”

  Sabine looked up. “We need to continue along this valley, follow the river to the meeting of three valleys then onwards and down to the flatlands, another day or two beyond that are the Rain Pools.”

  “Where we may find some answers,” Jack added.

  “Or more questions,” Raven said.

  “Onwards then, we’ll not get anywhere fast sitting here talking,” Sabine added.

  They had a meagre breakfast, the last of the bread and cheese, then packed up their gear. They were soon moving through the trees, Sabine leading the way. She pushed the pace hard, they made good progress reaching the meeting of the three valleys by late evening. They set up camp, Jack prepared the two rabbits Sabine had caught for their meal.

  After eating their spirits were high. The weather had been kind to them but a change was detectable in the air.

  “Rain tomorrow,” Raven said matter-of-factly.

  “Aye, it’ll cover our tracks,” Sabine replied.

  Jack looked up. “Are you worried someone’s following us?”

  Sabine grunted. “There is someone following us. Ever since we left New Haven.”

  Jack watched her closely. “When were you going to share this news with us?”

  “I didn’t want to let on we knew. I wanted to see what they’d do. I don’t think they mean us harm, they would’ve attacked by now if that was their plan, they’ve had plenty of opportunity.”

  Jack looked around uneasily as the last of the light faded over the mountains in the west. “Have you seen them? How many are there?”

  “I’ve not seen anything definite, just movement, the odd shadow, well back. They’re good at hiding. We may get a chance tomorrow to flush them out. The valley narrows before the flatlands and passes through a gorge. We could backtrack and wait for them there.”

  Jack nodded in agreement. “I’ll take first watch,” he declared. Raven threw more wood on the fire.

  The night passed uneventfully. The morning sky was heavy with cloud, it started raining as they struck camp. They pulled their cloaks around them and set off in silence, their mood sombre.

  The terrain became difficult as they followed the river downstream. Its channel narrowed, the water becoming fast and dangerous. The rocks they crossed were slick with moss, the rain making every step slippery. Their progress slowed considerably. The ground steepened, soon they found themselves entering the gorge Sabine had spoken about.

  Every step had to be measured, a fall would be disastrous. Jack brought up the rear, he was uneasy, he was unable to check behind as often as he wanted. He had
a distinct feeling they were being followed, watched. Rain fell in thick sheets, he was soaked to the skin, at least it was not cold.

  Another two hours found them half way down the gorge. Sabine stopped and turned. “Follow me,” she said.

  She started climbing the boulder field to her left. Jack and Raven followed in silence. After twenty minutes they gained a vantage point on the side of the gorge.

  “Let’s wait for our friend.” Sabine said as she crouched behind a large boulder. She readied her bow and looked back up the gorge.

  Jack lay against the rock with Raven to his left. They pulled their hoods around their faces and sheltered as best as they could against the relentless rain.

  They waited. An hour passed, the rain continued, becoming heavier. The river was in spate, its water thrashing loudly below them. A world of water and rock, Jack thought.

  Sabine’s body tensed. She caught Jack’s eye, she nodded her head towards an outcrop jutting into the river below. Jack focused his eyes on the spot, he saw nothing. He glanced at Sabine who had nocked an arrow.

  He looked back and saw movement at the side of the outcrop. He concentrated.

  He saw a boy, barefoot, bedraggled, stumbling on the rocks. He was limping badly.

  Chapter 30: Flight

  Liriana hated herself.

  She had sworn never to run again, yet here she was, running. She was torn, she wanted to be with Thomas on the otherside, she missed him, but she could not leave her girls. She looked at them on the ship’s deck. If not for them she would have stayed in Leerma, she would have fought alongside Ameran and those that remained to face the onslaught.

  It is what it is.

  She had made her decision. What would Thomas think of her? Would he be proud… ashamed? She missed her soulmate. She had paid a large part of her savings to secure a place on the ship. It was done, one door closes, others open.

  The shore fell away and disappeared as the ship sailed into deeper water, the Crosswind Isles their destination. Surely this army of undead could not cross the sea? Liriana reflected bitterly. The once proud race of men was reduced to a ragtag band of survivors, pushed out to the fringes of the world.

  The ocean beyond the Crosswind Isles was uncharted, previous efforts to develop trade routes there had been prevented by Kraken. The beasts held sway in the deeper waters, many a life being lost to their jaws and whip like tentacles.

  There would be no Kraken for her daughters, she fingered her poisoned dagger. If any danger befell her two girls they would die at their mother’s hand with love and not at the hand of another with hatred; a promise made to herself and Thomas back when they had been a family, at the start of the war.

  “We should be there in two days my lady,” Rurik appeared at her side.

  Rurik was strong, there for her and the girls. He carried his own share of sorrows; his wife and two boys had been the first to die when Elverium was attacked. They lived outside the walls, on a smallholding. The undead came that night, ravaged the land and the outlying stockades, the farms were the first to fall.

  She remembered the flames set against the night sky.

  Then hundreds of undead had arrived and stood outside the town walls for two full days. Stood and watched, waiting for something, a signal. The town guard ran out of arrows, picking them off one by one from the battlements.

  Still more came, encircling Elverium. They had tried jars of burning pitch using the town’s two catapults. The flames had cut swathes in the enemy ranks which were filled quickly from behind. Always more of them pressing in from the rear, right up to the walls, strangling the town.

  Rurik had been with her and Thomas that day. The day the horde breeched the gates. The pressure from their corpses had crushed scores of their own against the gates, the horde was relentless and kept growing in size. The town guard had shored up the gates, to no avail.

  On the third day the gates cracked and splintered, crashing to the ground. The undead spilled into the square like pus from a burst abscess. The stench was unbearable, the violence that followed, bloody and swift.

  Thomas stayed at the barricade with his men and held the tide back for valuable minutes. At the last moment he broke away with a handful of men and managed to join her at the tunnel. The town was lost. Most of the non-fighting townsfolk had been evacuated to the western reaches via the tunnel and were on their way to New Haven and the king’s protection.

  The tunnel saved their lives. They emerged from its embrace beyond the enemy horde. Liliana looked back and saw Elverium in flames, their home, their town. She remembered the taste of bitterness in her throat.

  They hid in the hills that night and watched Elverium’s dying flames. Thomas and his men left for New Haven and the king’s army the following day, the land between them and the city was overrun by undead. She, the girls and the others had taken the safer western road to the coast and Leerma, to shelter there and wait for Thomas’s return.

  Except Thomas had not returned.

  Word eventually filtered through to Leerma of the king’s defeat at the battle of Kreshe. Liriana knew if Thomas and his men had broken through to New Haven he would have joined the fight at Kreshe. Her mind told her he was dead, her heart hoped he was alive.

  It was a blow to leave the mainland, she would be even further away from Thomas if he were, by some miracle, alive. How would he know where to find her? How would he reach her on the Crosswind Isles? Liriana’s mind pondered these questions as clouds gathered on the horizon.

  ~

  Thomas gathered his strength over the next few days. He searched the keep and found enough food and wine to keep him going. Soren had kept the place well stocked. He allowed his thoughts to settle, his mind to clear. He had done his bit, he had killed Soren, the king’s betrayer. The die of war was cast, there was nothing further he could do for the king. He had life back, gone was his Revenant existence, by some miracle he was human again.

  He was alive.

  Now he could focus on finding Liriana and his girls. Neesa’s moonstone vision had pointed at Leerma, he would go there to the kingdom’s westernmost port. He readied himself for the journey, his strength had returned, he felt fit for the road. He sighed and shouldered the Blood Eagle and his pack.

  A horse would have shortened the journey, but there were no horses. Dig deep, he told himself, dig deep and breathe, it will unfold. He had never felt more alone, than when he left the keep on the third day. Alive and alone.

  The first day passed in a misty, wet haze. As he left the mountains the weather cleared, the mist vanished. The sun made an effort to pierce the grey clouds, his mood lifted slightly. He talked to himself to alleviate the solitude.

  Wouldn’t like to be Reglis now, facing that horde of undead bastards. He’ll piss his royal pants when he sees how many of them there are. At least Soren won’t be there to guide them.

  Liriana, sweet girl, what have you done since we were last together? Where are you, Kate and Eveline? You’ll be safe, I will find you, no matter what it takes. You’re safe in the harbour of my heart, we’ll be together again. I know it.

  Thomas stopped in his tracks late morning on the second day. Something was not right. The undead army’s tracks swung off to the south as he had expected, towards the king and New Haven. He had been so deep in his thoughts, he had failed to register some tracks were heading west, to the coast.

  Towards Leerma.

  The army’s main force had turned south but a significant detachment, judging by their tracks, had broken off and was making for Leerma, to his wife and daughters. Thomas stood in shock. Why? What strategic sense did it make? Unless the necromancers could afford to, and in so doing, cut off supplies to New Haven from the sea.

  Unless the northern attack was a diversion and the main attack was coming from the east after all.

  How had the necromancers regrouped so quickly after both sides had been wiped out at Kreshe? Unless they had taken their dark art to the next level, becoming stronger,
emboldened. He stood, certainty dawning on him. They had done it; they had become formless like the wind, they could command and control their armies with thought alone.

  We are finished. I must reach the coast and Liriana. If we are to die, I will hold Liriana and my girls one last time.

  Thomas threw himself onwards, following the tracks leading west. He caught up with the enemy the evening of the third day. The undead host lay before him, thousands strong, a mere splinter of the force that had travelled south to New Haven. He stood on a low bluff looking across the coastal plain. The land stretched out, a wide sweep, thirty miles or so to the ocean.

  He held his breath. The dim evening light revealed the enemy host marching west. In the distance he could see pinpricks of light and the lighthouse at Leerma, sending its beacon out to sea. He shook his head, even when the port was under threat it still kept its duty to those at sea. Such was life, such was duty.

  Thomas looked at the enemy army, leaderless on the field, guided by distant minds. Their ranks would be slow to act but they would win by sheer numbers, just as they had at Elverium. He looked right and left, he could flank them and reach the port if he walked through the night. Hard but possible.

  A noise behind made him turn and reach for his blade.

  By the gods!

  A rusty blade swept by his skull just missing him. Five undead stragglers rose out of the darkness. Only one carried a weapon, the others came at him with fingernails and teeth. He knew a bite or scratch was all it took to become one, like them. He threw himself back off the bluff and landed awkwardly on the grass terrace below.

  The blade wielding carcass threw itself after him, moaning as it fell through the air. Thomas held the Blood Eagle aloft and swung it in a vicious arc completely severing the corpse at the waist. The two halves of the rotting body fell either side, decaying guts splattered over him, the stench overpowering.

  Thomas did not wait for the others to attack. He spotted a way down through the grass terraces to low lying land below. He took a reckless jump and gained a lead on his pursuers. They had hesitated at the loss of their blade wielding leader.