The Dread Lords Rising

by J. David Phillips

  *

  Things didn’t change until they crossed a narrow stream half a mile from the edge of Kreeth’s land. Davin felt it settling in around him slowly. At first, he chalked it up to Maerillus, who started complaining loudly that he wanted to go back. But it was Niam who sounded the first alarm that something was amiss. For his own part, Niam had remained quiet for much of the walk. When he finally spoke up, it was to hiss, “Would the two of you stop bickering like an old married couple!” When Davin and Maerillus’s jaws both snapped shut in surprise, he went on. “Listen to the forest. Something wrong.”

  Davin looked around and listened for a while. What he heard was . . . nothing—no autumn birds, no squirrels, no deer, or foxes broke the sepulchral hush pressing in from every direction.

  “You’re right. Something’s off,” Davin said, feeling his body growing tenser by the moment.

  “It started once we crossed the stream,” Niam said, clearly agitated.

  “When we started arguing,” Maerillus said quietly. “I felt horrible.”

  “You haven’t liked my idea from the get-go.” Davin pointed out.

  “No. But ever since we crossed that stream, all I’ve wanted to do is go back home and never come back.”

  “Nothing is moving,” Davin said. “It’s like the entire forest has gone empty.”

  Niam made an unpleasant observation. “Not entirely.”

  Davin and Maerillus both looked at him.

  “There have been several squirrels keeping pace with us. You two have been too busy bickering to notice. They only stopped when we stopped.” He gave a visible shiver. “I’ve never seen animals act like that. I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I think they’ve been watching us.”

  Davin looked up. Two squirrels sat on their haunches steadily looking down at the three of them. They displayed none of their typical nervous ticks or fits of motion. Instead of neurotically scanning the woods for predators, their lack of movement was unsettlingly calm and purposive.

  The hair on the back of Davin’s neck stood up. Quickly, he bent down, grabbed a stick, and threw it at their branch. The stick struck the limb with a loud, flat crack. The squirrels continued to stare without flinching. “Okay,” Maerillus said. “That’s too weird.” Without a word passing between them, Davin quickly strung his bow. At the same time, Niam and Maerillus did so as well.

  Davin took aim and loosed his arrow. Two more twangs followed. Davin’s arrow took the first squirrel just below its neck, sending it tumbling back and to the leafy floor with a soft thud where it lay completely motionless. Maerillus’s arrow flew right through the second squirrel, and Niam’s arrow, a brief second behind it, missed as the animal tumbled over without moving.

  Niam walked to one. “Uh, I’m pretty sure I know why the things didn’t so much as twitch or kick,” he said as a look of disgust traveled across his face. He brought them an arrow with a squirrel still attached to it, holding the shaft away from his body as if the skewered animal was something contagious.

  Maerillus’s nose crinkled as he looked at it. “Dear Lord, what is that?”

  Davin thought that he poor thing barely looked like a squirrel at all, and the sight of it caused a sense of revulsion to travel down his spine. Large patches of fur were missing where it had fallen out in tufts, and its eyes appeared to have partially sunken into its skull as if they were no longer supported by tissue and bone behind them. The animal’s arms and hind legs were abnormally long, and where its hind feet ended in a normal pair of paws, it’s forelimbs tapered to a set of scythe-like talons.

  Niam picked up a stick and used it to pry open the thing’s mouth. “Great Lord of Light!” Maerillus exclaimed. “Look at those teeth!”

  Repulsed, Davin asked, “How could it even survive?” Instead of sporting a thick pair of large, gnawing incisors, this squirrel’s jaws bore rows of uneven and jagged fangs.

  “Thing looks diseased,” Niam said. “It’s covered with lesions.”

  “Pull the arrow out and stick it in the ground so no one will know we were here,” Davin told him, and then said, “Let’s find the other two arrows and bury them. If these things are carrying anything, I don’t want to run the risk of spreading what they might have.”

  “They reminded me of the trall,” Davin said once they were done.

  “Jolan Kine said that tralls were created by the darkest sorcery imaginable,” Niam said. He looked pale.

  “This is sick,” Maerillus said uneasily.

  “They were watching us for one of two reasons,” Niam said darkly. “Either they wanted to, or Kreeth wanted them to.”

  “We’ve got to get a move on,” Davin said quickly. “The sun will be up soon and if there are more of Kreeth’s creations running around here, we are better off getting this over with.”

  Almost as soon as Davin’s words were out, a long, ululating howl pierced the night. Davin’s back ran with goose bumps and he instinctively grabbed the pommel of his short sword.

  “How far off was that?” Maerillus asked in alarm.

  “Sounded like it was a long way away,” Davin said, fighting the rising tide of worry blooming in his chest.

  “Then what’s that running toward us?” Niam flashed, dropping the short bow he owned and raising his staff defensively.

  Davin spun around just as he heard the rapid patter of paws speeding trough the crisp autumn leaves.

  “Wolf!” Maerillus cried out.

  “I see it!” Davin barked.

  Quickly, he pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocked it. At the same moment, Niam shouted in a terrified voice, “More wolves!”

  The rasp of more paws slashing trough dry leaves suddenly became distinct. The closest wolf streaked toward them with its head low and barred fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Muscles rippled like liquid beneath the beast’s fur as its powerful legs propelled it forward with a predatory grace.

  Davin gave in to the well of power that always lay just beneath the surface of his being, and time slowed almost to a crawl. In that moment he noticed how the wolf bearing down on him had been altered just like the squirrels. Its maw was tipped with a set of wickedly curved tusks, and instead of pads, its paws looked like they ended with the articulated talons of a raptor.

  Davin felt a white-hot blaze of rage that someone could twist creation into such a perversion. He drew his bow back and watched as his arrow drove through the air, striking the creature below its left eye. The thing crumpled and went down instantly. Davin shifted and nocked another arrow. Exhilaration like he had never known filled his body. He floated in a sea of serenity. There was only this moment. Time stood upon a fulcrum and he was its tipping point. All he had to do was find another target and let his arrow fly.

  Next to him, Niam whirled his staff and brought it down heavily on a wolf’s skull. The animal let out a savage growl and shook its head. Niam took that brief instant to spin his staff over his head and swung it in a low arc so that the tip connected with the beast’s leg, snapping it like a twig. The wolf let out a yelp and limped backward, its fangs bared, and its muzzle pulled back, rippling.

  Davin sent an arrow plunging into its side, piercing the thing’s shoulder and spearing its heart. He reached back and pulled another arrow from his quiver, savoring the absolute confidence that came with giving in to the ocean he first felt what seemed like an age ago in a side alley of Kalavere.

  Maerillus had his bow up, but he fumbled for his arrow while another beast closed rapidly. Davin pulled back his string. He knew he had this. There were no more wolves. This was the last one. All he had to do was aim and release. But as he stepped back to steady himself, a root caught the bottom of his boot. Davin felt a moment of frustration and surpris
e. Suddenly the ocean of calm certainty was gone and his eyes went wide as his balance betrayed him. Panic flashed through him; as he teetered and stumbled back, he released his arrow too soon, which flew wide and high. Davin fell, sprawling across the ground, and he heard Maerillus yell out in fear.

  He scrambled to get up as the wolf jumped and missed. When it landed, the thing wheeled about to have another go Maerillus, but Niam charged the wolf, fending it off by waving his staff and bellowing in fear.

  Maerillus used Niam’s diversion to draw an arrow back with his powerful bow. The shaft buried itself in the wolf’s hip, and the animal screamed in pain. It refused to back off, however, becoming all the more enraged for the pain now flaring in its hind end.

  Davin drew his sword and leapt at the animal. Niam lifted his staff. Davin drove his blade into the wolf’s side. He felt the metal meet bone.

  The wolf snapped viciously at Davin’s blade as Niam’s staff came crashing down on its skull, and in less than a heartbeat, the thing lay lifeless.

  “Is everyone okay?!” Davin shouted.

  “I’m fine,” Niam panted, looking as if he were trying to see in every direction at once.

  “I’m okay too,” Maerillus said as he prepared another arrow in case there were more wolves about.

  Davin took a moment to gather himself together. His heart raced and his hands trembled. Silently he cursed himself for becoming so arrogant that he allowed a simple root to trip him up.

  Maerillus could have died. He wanted to scream. He should have been more cautious with his power, but it was nearly impossible to be cautious when he felt nearly invincible.

  In the distance, another howl rose into the night air.

  Letting out a long breath, Davin said, “Come on guys, let’s keep moving.”

  “I told you there’d be more things like the trall,” Maerillus said quietly as they walked.

  “No fair,” Davin said in a low voice. “You said there MIGHT be a trall . . . but I’m a man of my word. Sorry Maer.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Maerillus said glumly.