By The Sword - Homepage

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A horrible, bone-splitting shiver raked down my spine.

My vision became a blur of movement as I kicked and writhed, trying with indescribable desperation to keep the cold off my skin. The impossibly frigid touch wrapped around my neck, keeping air out and pain in.

I widened my eyes even further and tore my neck backward, trying to scramble away from the terror’s vile touch. The terror stood over me, its blank, indented eye sockets squared right with my eyes. Its grip was tight and did not give way to my movements, only increasing the near deafening scrapes of fear echoing out across the edge of my skull.

The humanoid terror was covered in silver scars, decorated menacingly as it stood over me. Its blank expression mocked me, the sharp blade of fear picking at the most painful parts of my mind.

For a moment, I couldn’t think, and all I could feel was pain. But slowly, as my frantic will rose up once again, I regained control. Instead of kicking wildly, hoping my feet would catch the terror at some point, I darted my eyes to it and pushed directly into its chest.

A chill rippled through my leg. Its grip loosened around my neck, letting frigid air—that was somehow warm by comparison—into my lungs once again. The terror stumbled backward, pulling me with it, but I dug my hand into the ground.

I kicked again, focusing all of my attention onto the movement in an effort to block out the fear. My foot once again felt like a burning slab of ice as I forced my strength back into the terror and knocked it away.

Its grip nearly came off of my neck, the murky, humanoid fingers it had formed slipping on my skin. I hauled myself backward, bringing my empty hand up to knock the terror’s fingers away from my neck.

Frigid waves ripped throughout my arm and the terror hissed, but its grip was gone. My mind felt instant relief as the roaring fear from before calmed back to its usual of soft, erratic scraping. I wanted to lie there, to relish in the relief while the pain faded from my body, but I couldn’t. The comparably mild winter wind whipped at my head and I forced myself backward, trying to find footing on the dirt.

The humanoid terror scurried away from me, its glittering grey scars acting as little beacons in the night. I took another step back, gasping and rolling my neck to try to shake the pain away.

It didn’t work.

My eyes flicked around, finally free from the fear-fueled haze they had been put in only seconds before. The moonlight illuminated our little camp in dim, distant light, but as my eyes sharpened to an edge, that little light was enough.

Small orange after-sparks still glowed in the fire we’d set up between us and most of the wood looked almost completely charred. It had been a while since I’d gone to sleep, I noted to myself quickly, making sure to keep track of the terror’s position in the corner of my eye.

Across the fire, I saw Myris’ sleeping form. Even asleep, the older ranger looked distressed, as if he was still dreading an attack even then. And feeling the aching weight in my own breaths, I couldn’t quite blame him.

With my feet already moving to the side, a new purpose lined out in my head, I looked over to my final companion and started seething with rage. Over on his bedroll, sprawled all over the ground, was Jason. His head laid sideways on the ground, and his sword was tucked next to him. He looked tired and serene, like he wasn’t to be bothered.

But he’d been on guard, I reminded myself with as much poison as I felt.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered hoarsely into the air as my feet took me to my destination. My knees buckled in an instant and, keeping my eyes trained on the still-scuttling terror, I grabbed for my scabbard and unsheathed my sword.

The satisfying, clean metal shriek echoed out through the night and I felt more confident in my movements. Holding the sword in my hand, I stood a chance.

I stared at the terror as I gripped my sword, feeling the increased pressure put on the inside of my brain. I forced my wall up and tensed my muscles. The terror still stared at me, provoking and feeding off the fear that I was giving out in spades.

Bitterness welled up on my tongue and I spat into the dirt.

It had ambushed our camp. It had entered my dreams. It had invoked the image of my wife. An entirely unsettling rage rose up in my chest.

I wanted that thing dead.

I stepped forward but doubt rose up and I quickly stepped right back. I clutched my sword with whatever strength I could still muster as actual thoughts churned in my head. Rage still bubbled beneath the surface, but suddenly, it was masked and layered by reason and rationale. I wanted the terror dead, there was no question about that. But I didn’t know if I could do it alone, and I really didn’t have to.

Whipping my head to the side and looking over at the camp where my companions were still sleeping soundly by the dwindling fire, I found myself able to form words. I opened my mouth, ready to spew out the command for both of them to wake up.

Terrible mental pain shook my insides and another shiver raked down my spine. I grimaced, my fingers contorting in tight, unnatural movements on the grip of my blade. The loud cracking sound of fear that pulled on my doubts still echoed in my ears. But, instead of standing there reeling, I just shook my head.

“Wake the fuck up,” I spat, my voice cold and low. I’d spat the command out through my teeth, but it still reverberated throughout the night, drifting on the wind like some sort of intense, sonic feather.

Myris’ body shifted in an instant and he jerked his head up. Snapping his eyes open, a grunt slipped from his lips and he held a hand up to hold his head. The ruffled, shining grey hair of the more experienced ranger was thrown to the side as he straightened his shoulders and looked up at me.

“What do you—”

“There,” I said in the same cold tone as before, my arm pointing over to the hunched terror still hiding at the edge of the treeline. Myris’ eyes widened for a moment, annoyed rage sparkling behind them before he twisted his head.

As soon as he saw the terror, though, that rage died, and he sprung to his feet. He scrambled on the ground as he grabbed his quiver, quickly strapping it to his waist.

“Dreams?” he asked, his newly energized eyes glancing to me. I nodded through gritted teeth and heard the soft curse Myris spat out. Seemingly on instinct, Myris grabbed an arrow from his quiver and notched in his bow, nodding to himself.

“It dies,” I said, already stepping in the direction of the terror. The image of my wife’s tortured expression carried me all the way to where I needed to go.

Myris didn’t even seem to need an explanation. He tensed his legs and shook off the residual exhaustion. “I’ll support you from here. Don’t let it grapple you. And keep your wall up.”

I nodded firmly, not even needing to be told. My body surged forward over the dirt, flying to where the terror stood in between the forest’s foremost trees. I pricked my ears and sharpened my vision, making sure to track every scrap of movement my body could possibly detect.

Terrifying words and memories I would’ve gawked at in horror were pulled up in my mind, but my rage pushed them down. The burning fire in my chest that pumped sharp, liquid steel through my veins drowned out all of the fear and carried me toward the terror without any hesitation in my steps.

An arrow struck through the air. I ducked to the side on instinct and relished in the pained sounds of hissing as the terror was impaled right through the chest.

I took advantage of its pain and charged at it from the side. The already slow being had no chance of turning in time before my blade came down, stabbing it deep through the shoulder.

The cacophony of hisses were a pleasure to my ears.

“Duck,” came a command from Myris. My knees were buckled before I even processed the word. Another twang of an arrow being let loose sent a grin on my face and I just pushed down harder as another arrow broke right into the terror’s face. Glittering grey liquid seeped down from its head, leading a scar to form in its wake.

I pushed even more on my sword, forcing it down through the blank flesh with all the strength I had. By the time I dragged it out, a gigantic, twitching grey scar was already ripping down its chest.

The terror whipped out its arm, shifting it into some strange, thin set of tendrils that came at me in an instant. My eyes widened, but I didn’t hesitate. I ducked low, pushing myself off to the side. The stretched set of tendrils rushed at me, but my mind was already working faster than that. My blade sliced right through the blank, murky flesh before it could each reach my body.

A spray of hisses split the cold night and moonlight glinted in my eye from the silver wound coming off the terror’s now stublike arm.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

An arrow pierced the air right in front of me, striking the terror in its neck. Its hisses continued, but I drowned them out. And with a new burst of fire forcing its way through my blood, I rushed at it again.

The terror was almost dead. I could see the way its scars were twitching, I could see the way it was slowing down. Only a few more of those, and it would go back to the house it was made in.

The wicked smile painted across my lips only grew as I charged again, paying no attention to safety. My movements weren’t calculated—they weren’t poised with purpose. They were strict and brutal. I flew at the terror and stabbed it right through the chest, pushing my body past it as I dragged my sword with me.

Hisses annoyed my ears. I didn’t even pay them any mind.

A soft thud echoed through the night as the terror’s form collided with the dirt. I drew my blade out and smiled, letting the probing blade of fear fade from my mind. No more images rose up. No more words were spoken. My mind felt at peace.

I sighed, staring at the humanoid terror on the ground. For a moment, I was happy, but that didn’t last long. As I stared at the terror’s body, expecting to see the motionless scars and its lifeless body, I was met with an extremely unpleasant surprise.

It wasn’t dead.

Yes… just like her…

My eyes cracked wide and my heart thundered in my chest. I clutched my sword and stepped toward the terror, a response already rising to my lips.

“Her?” I asked a little louder than I’d indented. The boiling storm of anger raged on in my mind. “Her?!”

“What?” Myris asked from behind me. I didn’t even look back.

“Who the hell is her?!”

I stared at the terror, rage and fear clashing in my head. The terror’s form twitched as if near its death. It beckoned me forward, waiting for me to end its vile existence.

I stepped forward, answering its call for death as I raised my sword up. Rationality and reason had no place in my swirling thoughts, but it didn’t matter. I stared at the blank terror with such incomprehensible disgust that my body moved on its own.

My blade came down and sliced right through its neck. The twitching grey scars settled down in an instant.

A painful impact sent shocks of cold throughout my leg.

I yelled, bellowing in pain as the cold spread throughout my muscles. I felt my bones shudder and bend as if they’d been placed under boulders, and I fell to my knees.

The tendril-like arm that the terror had struck me with fell to the ground with the rest of its dull, lifeless body.

“What happened?” Myris asked, rushing over to where I was now kneeling in the dirt.

I flicked my gaze to him, meeting his stoic and interested expression with my own of rage and pain.

“I killed it,” I spat out through my teeth. Myris’ lips ticked up in annoyance, but he held his tongue.

His eyes narrowed. “But it hit you, as well.”

I parted my lips, but no words came out. So I just nodded instead, wincing in pain.

Myris clicked his tongue with pointed precision and placed his bow on his back. The air around me got lighter and I saw energy swirling in his eyes as he scanned over the tree line in search for anything else.

“Was that the only one?” I asked, hoping the answer I knew was the one he would provide.

“It should be.”

I sighed, the weight of my body coming all out in the breath. My grip loosened and I blinked for a long moment, just trying to feel the relief spread out over my aching bones.

“Where the fuck were you?” Myris asked. I snapped open my eyes and glared at him. But he wasn’t looking at me.

“I-I…”

“You were the one on guard,” Myris said, leaving no room for hesitation. I blinked, only finally understanding as the arrogant swordsman walked up with red flushed on his face.

“I fell asleep,” he said softly, nearly biting away the words. Myris clenched his jaw and glared at Jason.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Jason shot a glare right back. “I fell asleep.”

A low growl rose out of Myris’ throat. His eyes bored holes into Jason, but they didn’t stay for long. Every few seconds, he would whip his head back to the forest and scan again, looking for any more threats.

“It’s… it’s dead,” I said. They both looked at me. I shook my head and forced myself up. My leg screamed at me in frigid, numb pain, but I ignored its calls. “Everything’s all right.”

“You need to go back to sleep,” Myris said, his words more of a command than a request. I just nodded and kept my gaze down. The echoing words of the terror still spun in my mind.

I tried uselessly to push them away.

“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled as I pushed past him and back over to my bedroll. “I didn’t know how tired I really was, I guess.”

I could feel Myris snap even from almost a dozen paces away. “This is why I said I should be the one on watch.”

Jason grunted unhappily. “I get it.”

“You should go back to sleep, too,” he said. “I’ll stay on watch until morning and we can figure out travel and treatment then.”

A grin tugged at the corners of my lips as Jason stayed silent. I could see him hesitating, wanting to throw some arrogant quip without even having to turn around.

“Fine,” Jason eventually muttered.

And so we went back to our bedrolls and settled back down. The winter wind was calming as the night drew further and further on, and I calmed down with it. Pulling my cloak in tighter and placing my head back on my bag, I sheathed my sword once again and placed the scabbard by my side.

Thoughts and emotions still clashed in my head, but I didn’t give them my attention. The sequence of events played back, and I was just happy at how it ended. The feeling of ice on my neck sent a shiver down my spine, but I just took it with a nod. I was alive. Wewere alive. It was okay.

If only it could’ve been that way without my leg hurting like a bitch.

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The path in front of me was bathed in sunlight as I dragged my leg onward.

The wide dirt path had narrowed after we’d left for camp again and the forest was pressing in. Whereas before, it had been multiple times more than a dozen paces extending on each side before the tree line started, now it struggled even to be that.

Curved, organic brown forms swirled around me from the trees as I continued down the path. Wind blew through my hair, acting as a soft, mild breeze that felt like more than a relief after the painfully cold wind of the night. The afternoon sun beat down on my back, spreading warmth through my skin.

I smiled.

My metal boot scraped against the dirt, making me stumble forward a few paces. A grunt flew out of my lips, but I kept myself up. I winced for a moment, feeling the aching bruise on my leg getting less and less numb.

Myris had said we would deal with treatment in the morning, and I’d trusted him. So I’d just pushed away the pain and latched onto sleep, cherishing the thought of going back to the sweet, dark abyss.

But, after I’d woken up the next morning, I’d almost regretted the action. As soon as my consciousness rose, sliding out of the relief-filled vice that sleep gripped me with, I’d felt pain. All of it had been dull and distant, little more than overextension and soreness.

All of it except for the pain in my leg.

At first, as I’d sat up, I hadn’t thought anything was wrong. The impossible cold of the bruise had faded and I’d only felt a dull ache in its spot. I’d thought I’d gotten off easy.

But as soon as I’d gone to stand, I’d realized my mistake.

I continued to limp onward, moving my legs a little faster to keep up with my two companions ahead. Jason and Myris walked in silence, not even looking at each other anymore. Jason looked reserved and removed, as if the normal fire of his arrogance had been snuffed out the previous night. And Myris was almost the complete opposite.

Instead of being stoic, calculated, and mature, Myris was the antithesis of those things. He was jittery and tense as he walked on, continuing to cast even through the middle of the day. I could see the strain developing on his face with every passing minute, but he didn’t seem to care—the sharp, sleepless lines at the corners of his eyes didn’t seem to care.

I furrowed my brow and bent down to pat my leg. The familiar feeling of the leaf-covered bandage wrapped around my bruise presented itself again. The wide, puffy outline of the makeshift medical solution stretched at my cloth pants.

As soon as I’d tried to stand that morning, the bruise on my leg had attacked me. It had sent shivers and shocks through my bones that seemed to command my muscles to lock up altogether.

“You’re lucky I came prepared,” Myris had said. I’d been relieved at that, not even paying attention to his quip. All that I’d cared about was the fact that he’d come prepared, and that meant there was something he could do.

When he’d reached into his bag and pulled out the thin, flat magical leaves, my heart had skipped a beat. I still remembered the last time I used the magical things.

I pulled up my bandage again and tried to stretch it tight on the bruise under my skin. Pain radiated out t and I grimaced, stopping for a moment before the numbing kicked back in. A million-pound weight shifted off my shoulders.

Warmth pricked at my skin and more pleasure spawned in my mind. A new smile tugged at the corners of my lips while I walked, now bathed in sunlight. The pain in my leg, at least for the moment, was easily forgotten.

Images flashed of the night before. I gritted my teeth, trying to push them back so I could enjoy my warmth. With the sun’s light brushing up against my skin, I couldn’t help but think about the cold, and thinking about the cold brought all the horrible memories along with it.

I snapped my eyes shut and tried to block out the subtle sounds of nature swirling around me. My breathing grew faster, the words of the terror echoing back in my mind. I shivered despite the warm light on my back.

It had said I was like her. Whatever that meant. I didn’t know who she was, and that was what scared me the most. Less than a week ago, no terror had ever communicated with me, and I’d never heard of one communicating with anyone else. But now… it felt like those hissing words would enter my thoughts every time, trashing everything else with fear and seeding doubt somewhere deep in my mind.

Light flashed in my vision as my eyes opened again. I was still walking onward, but my leg wasn’t dragging anymore. I made angry, purposeful steps that shoved my metal boots into the dirt and jostled the contents of the bag on my back.

My lip curled up and I nearly spat just thinking about the beast. Marc’s words played back in my mind, reminding me that the very thing I hated most could’ve been their creator.

Unease stewed in my stomach, swirling into something warped and disgusting.

I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust any of it.

Whatever the terrors were talking about, the beast had something to do with it. I was sure. It had to. I didn’t have any proof to back my hunch up, but just remembering the sheer rage and confusion the terror’s words had brought out of me, I didn’t need it to be convinced. The beast was still playing with my life. I could feel it.

As I lifted my head, Myris twisted his neck toward me, his eyes searching me with sporadic, unhealthy movements. After a second, he realized who I was and let a breath slip between his lips.

He turned around. “Agil, don’t scare me like that.”

The soft, exhausted voice paradoxically drowned out the raging hatred in my head. I squinted at him through the sunlight and tilted my head. “Sorry.”

Jason spared me a sidelong glance as he walked forward, keeping a generous few paces between himself and us. I nodded to him, seeing only bare recognition flashing back from his gaze.

My eyebrows dropped and the feeling of strain in my arms and legs was apparent all at once. I cringed, turning back to Myris.

“How much farther?”

The taller ranger blinked, shaking his head slightly. “It shouldn’t be much now. We’ve made really good time today. No breaks.” I nodded as sarcastically as I could muster. Myris didn’t seem to notice. “If we keep it up we could probably reach Farhar just after sunset.”

My nod became genuine at once. I opened my mouth. But, as if on cue, a pulse of dull pain radiated from the blunt wound on my leg and I grimaced.

“How long will the leaves hold?”

Myris glanced back at me and dropped his brows, some of his condescending confidence returning. “I have another few sano leaves in my bag… But the ones you have will stop helping in a few hours, I’d say. We’re really going to need to get you to a healer when we arrive.”

Jason looked over to us, a glimmer of concern hiding behind his silent mask. His lips twitched, but they didn’t move, and after holding my gaze for a second, he turned away again. My eyes fell to the dirt, watching the dry dust flying up into the air as I dragged my foot across it.

“Yeah,” I offered with strain in my voice. “We are.”

Then, with another nod from the frantic ranger, I fell back into my old step. The same natural forms followed me wherever I went, but they felt just a little more relaxed. The same sounds of nature whirled around me, but they felt just a little sweeter.

With Farhar closer than I’d thought, a smile settled on my face.

I lifted my gaze back up. I pushed back the pain.

And I continued to walk.