I twitched, fingers curling into the soft ash beneath. I slowly drew my arms back to my sides, expending more energy than was affordable, an attempt heave my aching self upon my knees. My helmet was moved, obscuring, yet not the source of my blindness. A maelstrom of dust and ash wiped out everything beyond the limits of my arm.
I reached my knees, staggering to my feet over what was surely hours. My body strained under the exhaustion, my muscles flayed and on fire, too sore to do anything but cautiously stagger forward. My knees buckled, bringing me close to blow-outs, dislocations and breaks every time I put another foot forward across the shifting, grainy ashen earth. Strangely, my fear was not of falling here.
I reached to my back, my fingers stiffly gripping the leather-strapped handle. It was a crudely created thing, wickedly curved and chipped with use. The jagged, rusted edges, like hooked teeth as it tore its way back through my flesh. I suffered the agony again, the same as when it went in. My pain would not be heard against the roaring winds surrounding me, the rushing storm of a barren wasteland.
I continued on, surveying with narrowed eyes, an attempt to pierce the haze. I could see shadows moving, swiftly darting, disappearing the next second, taunting. I could see them all around me, vanishing back out the moment my eyes centred on them. I was surrounded.
I spun and drew the curved blade before me, clashing against the enemy’s weapon cruelly crafted blade. Dark rags whipped in the breeze, the assault barbaric and without control. This creature was a servant of evil, one that brought death and suffering wherever it went.
It slashed and hacked at me, forcing me back under the strength of its attempts. Steel chipped and shattered, an opportunity I could not waste. I cut across it, feeling nothing but a single brittle moment of resistance, and my enemy crumpled to the floor, a mess of bone and cloth. The worshippers of demons will all suffer the same fate.
I staggered on, noticing movement by my sides. Men, dressed in armour, rushed past to engage the foul creatures, their cries for war rippling throughout the battlefield. The enemy far outnumbered us, but we couldn’t stop. We couldn’t let them through. Beyond this valley lay the evacuated towns of our people, and past that, the capital. It’d taken us weeks to reach the frontlines from the capital, but for the creatures we fought? These things that knew nothing of fatigue and exhaustion? Days, at best.
As I cut through the seemingly endless horde, the remains of the frontier villagers, a faded red light shattered the sky sporadically. I could see the sorrow up there among the clouds, a sorrow to cast a deathly terror deep within my heart. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I had no time for dreams. My weapon flung out to parry another vicious strike.
Another flash of red drew my eyes away, my body trembling with the booming thunder that followed, fear crippling my movements once more.
“Open your eyes, liar! Witness the evil committed!”
My movements were slow and imprecise, my eyes unable to escape the red sky. The raging voice within the storm roared in emotion, and I stared wide when the dust cleared slightly. I staggered back, my body too warn and fatigued, unable to flee before the figure tearing through the air, the true monster of this calamity.
“Sorcerer!” was the scream as we all turned and ran, the laughing terror always gaining ground.
Explosions of earth and ash decimated the frontlines, vaporising those still defending the line, those too slow to flee. We were to be wiped out, the only line of defence our country had against this plague eradicated, and they would do it all with a smile on their face. What could we do to bring down the inhuman? Mortals do not bring down the immortal.
We scrambled back, further and further, the legions of evil clawing after us with relentless fury. There was no escape. No longer did we have days or hours, just minutes. They would hack and rip their way through, trample our corpses, or worse yet, have us join their cause.
A calamitous detonation deafened the air, a tidal wave of force rushing out in all directions. The damned creatures flying past in crumpled masses, and we ran for all we were worth. The blast drew closer and closer, the pressure building against my back, my only focus outrunning the rushing winds sweeping the plains.
I was too slow.
My body was pulled, flipping through the air, allowing me momentary glances to find the cause of disaster. Two monsters, two sorcerers, man and woman, exchanging blows in a furious battle, nothing the likes of us could ever comprehend. The might they wielded, a single swipe of their hand erased thousands of bodies, and we could do nothing to stop them.
I jolted suddenly, staggering forward a step, quickly regaining my composure as I stood in attendance before the King. My breathing was heavy and ragged, my body sweaty and tired. We hadn’t had much time to rest, the King having demanded an audience the moment we’d returned. It was difficult to remain standing, but who were we to deny the request of our King?
We stood there in the grand hall, the floor painted with the colours of the stained-glass windows, listening to the King’s congratulations, though his words were never heard. We hadn’t escaped, the terrors were right there, right behind our eyes, clawing, tearing, desperate!
He was grateful, joyous even, our King. He wasn’t there after all. None of them were, the nobles and wealthy, none had seen our friends turn on us, nor had any witnessed the hopeless calamity of the God-like beings! They hadn’t felt the despair and terror as we had, an overriding reflex no man, holy or king, could ever combat! This head of state that sat before us, he was so small, as insignificant as us! What meaning do manner sand court etiquette have now?
He’d told us he was unhappy the perpetrator had managed to flee, but he was confident we could bring him down. He gave us our orders with smug arrogance, believing the creature could be laid low as any other human could. The Bishop by his side nodded his agreement with every word pronounced, his eyes closed as if he had complete faith they spoken by the will of the Gods. It was incomprehensible to them that death cannot be delivered to the unrighteous. My emotional reasoning, backed by the men and women standing beside me, meant nothing to their combined opinion.
We were to form an execution squad. A group of fifty or so of our bravest, finest warriors, and we were to send them to their deaths. My outburst had granted me a position on that squad. It took every remaining ounce of self-control to not break down before the theatre. He’d just issued us with death.
I tried to scream the sense into him, more and more fury the only response, reminding me I should remember my place and who it was I stood before. The watchers, the upper classes in attendance, they all began their murmurings and mockeries. Their voices remained dull, growing louder, deafening, merging into one and becoming white noise. My ears were ringing as I turned to look at all the gawking faces.
The ringing became a whine, transforming into a high-pitched scream to shatter the stained glass windows surrounding the room.
“You’re just as delusional as that murderer! Following his every lie blindly, faithfully! Without question or concern!”
The piercing shriek carried a voice of torment, a wailing cry to bleed our ears. All those filling the hall immediately hunched forward, our hands crushing our ears in desperate attempts to shut out the noise, but the sound resonated within our skulls without escape.
I lifted my head in confused terror, taking in the slowly falling glass, like watching snow fall, only unnatural, sinister in design. A giant’s form shifted, the one responsible moving along the vacant windows, circling us slowly, deliberately, until its long fingers slid through a window, curling against the wall inside, a single, raging eye staring from the empty space above it.
A single look and I was made to scream. The terror it caused, burrowing deep within my very soul, inescapable, unforgettable! I could never forget!
The eye widened into something far more terrible, far more angry, an explosive scream ripping apart the air. The piercing wail distorted all other sounds to a single, paralysing ring, my body releasing itself of control. I fell to my knees and forward, someone gripping my shoulder to help straighten me up. Some smart comment followed, to which I dismissed with a wry grin and a wave of my hand.
I lowered my hands and quickly regained my footing. The roots were hard to navigate, the fine fog making it difficult to find any solid ground. I managed to slowly edge on through despite every instinct demanding I turn coward and run. There was something in the air, an unsettling presence shivering all throughout. We’d dealt with swarms of bugs and rodents, both oversized and abnormal, but they weren’t anything to be compared with why we could only creep forward with the most dire caution.
We were just under fifty strong, a couple of our members having already fallen victim to the forest. A low murmur had begun to spread across the survivors, though we as their leaders couldn’t chastise them. It was the only thing keeping their morale, keeping them from fleeing in despair against their inescapable doom.
We crept along, our target hidden somewhere within the overgrowth. A survivor had witnessed their battle, an anything but lucky feat. Now a madman, the survivor spoke with broken words, barely coherent, but his tale was told. The sorcerers had engaged in a terrifying duel, both receiving wounds that would’ve erased any mortal man. We’d learnt they’d inflicted each other with such terrible injuries they’d been forced to retreat. From there, we’d managed to track our target to the forest.
Our target’s adversary had taken it upon themselves to deal with the overwhelming horde, as we’d found no trace other than a handful of stragglers our group of fifty handled with ease. Whoever this saviour was, their name and face remained unknown, as did their agenda. What had they stood to gain from the fight? Why would a creature of such unimaginable power care what happens to us mortals? I could only begin to guess at the hundreds of answers, but I would always end up with the same shiver, my imagination providing the conclusions for me. We all knew, there were never a more selfish, self-absorbed creature than the species we now hunted.
Our movements were silent. There was no clatter of armour, for we wore none. Only a handful of us had seen what the sorcerer made of it, which had forced our decision to leave it all behind. What good was it when our enemy could steal our life with a mere wave of the hand?
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A lot of the younger, newer warriors seemed to enjoy the decision, noting the armour was too heavy and uncomfortable, and their relief made my heart sink lower and lower. Perhaps they were the bravest warriors we had, but they certainly weren’t the most experienced. They were too new, barely out of training, yet who else could be sent? Everyone was either too wounded or had fled to other lands in the hope of safety, leaving us with a mere fifty bodies to see this through to the end.
We all froze, one of the scouts having notified us of a disturbance up ahead. Something was being carried along the winds, a sound, nothing I could make out. I narrowed my eyes in confusion as I turned my head, straining my ears, but as I did so, I caught a dim orange glow far into the forest. I blinked and it expanded significantly. I blinked again and it spread as far as my vision. I took a step back, slipped on a root, my eyes squeezing at the slight pain. I fell to one knee, but managed to thrust a hand out and prop myself up. I snapped my eyes open, noticing flecks of ash shifting about, slowly swaying to the ground. A crackling sound brought my gaze up and my eyes landed on the forest, now ablaze in bright flames. A sea of fire, burning, the heat boiling my skin, causing such indescribable agony as I clawed at my arms and face, screaming for the end, until I was paralysed, a shriek of terrible suffering rooting me in place.
“The torture, the cruelty! How you made him scream and suffer! How does it feel?!”
The vibrations of the screaming voice pulsated violently, each pulse tensing up my body completely. I could only stare ahead, into the flames, and listen to the voice of agony, the same sensations rippling over like oil. The flames devoured wider, burned brighter, my body swaying as everything went blurry, and I fell forward into darkness.
I fell for only a second, right before I felt someone’s arms across my chest. I opened my eyes and felt the earth return to the soles of my feet, stumbling forward slightly as the man next to me questioned how I felt. I shook my head slightly, holding out a hand as if to say I was fine, but nothing could be further from the truth.
I brought a shaking hand to my head, noticing my mouth had become dry. We didn’t have much water left, but we’d completed our goal. We’d successfully captured the sorcerer. It was only a matter of days before we returned now.
Our captive had remained defiant until the end. Barely half survived the assault, the undead mystic claiming all their lives before we’d managed to collar him. Not all of us remained to see our mission through, many having deserted, fled to escape their insurmountable horror, and who am I to blame them? I should’ve done the same.
We hadn’t realised it earlier, not until we’d laid eyes on him ourselves. His skin was decayed and a pale blue, his organs exposed in some areas, his eyes, vacant and malicious. We’d managed to remove his arms, wrap an iron clasp around his neck, and now we had four chains stretched to their limits to drag along the limp monster.
We hadn’t managed to end his life, so we’d decided to transport him back to the King, let him, the Bishop and the rest of his advisors decide what to do. We hadn’t been able to question the creature either, the fiend having refused to answer anything we put to it.
All was silent as we moved along, not a word uttered. Everyone remained trapped within a grave and hopeless fog, a given after the fight we’d barely survived. Not even the young ones could offer up a joke or song, not after having finally understood the sheer hopeless insignificance of our lives.
We attempted interrogation, though nothing could be gained aside the occasional groan. His body was limp, dragged along by four of ours. It was a startling find to all to see multiple amputations could not stop this creature. While his hoarse breathing and groans could still be heard, they were weak, pained, a comfort to us all.
We should’ve been happy, celebrating even, and maybe we would’ve, if not for the price it’d cost. We’d stopped what was possibly the greatest evil to our age, yet their lives had been vanquished. Why should we be celebrating, when they no longer could?
We continued through the countryside, taking the main roads for ease of travel. Morale was low, its lowest point yet, the result of a ferocious storm drowning us. The thunder and lighting chasing us in the direction we marched, it sounded more like grieving howls to condemn our righteous actions.
“Villains! All of you! Murderers! Killers! Cowards!”
The thundering howls followed us for days, the rains never ceasing. Many had succumbed to colds and fevers. Our prisoner wouldn’t allow a moment of respite, forcing us to leave our friends behind, a sickening decision we solemnly made.
He was healing, our prisoner. There hadn’t been much blood when we’d removed his arms, the steady flow stemming within an hour. He was weak, but for how much longer? When would he regain the power to wipe us from existence with the flick of a finger? We had to get him back home by any means, as quick as we could, even if it meant abandoning those that’d remained loyal throughout the terrible ordeal.
We moved as quick as our exhaustion allowed. The rains had drowned the fields we strode, our feet slipping through ankle-high waters and muddy terrain. Our ankles twisted and knees buckled, but we had no choice, we had to push through the pain to our destination.
Our bodies were barely holding together, some having collapsed completely, and I was no exception. I toppled forward and slammed into the water, only, it wasn’t the cold, despairing force we’d experienced up until then. It was hot and devouring, and so I looked up in confusion to see the bonfire flaring high into the sky.
He’d been screaming in agony until a few moments ago, the cries heard easily over the crowd. They demanded suffering, death, retribution for the ones they’d lost at his hands. I took note of the disappointment some of the people vocalised when silence echoed from the flames, and I felt anything but. I was relieved, so terribly relieved the horror that man had embodied was no more.
It was like a festival, all the men, women and children gathered there. So many had come out to see the execution of such a fiend, all with a hunger for punishment. We stood gathered there for an hour after the screams had gone silent, until a terrible, horribly distraught wail silenced us all.
“What have you done?!” the voice cried in horror, a woman’s voice so terribly despairing it held the force to invoke anyone’s heart with impending dread. I remembered her voice, clearer than anything, and the cold, dreadful terror it brought with it.
The figure of a woman suddenly materialised at the base of the bonfire, the raging flames quickly dispersing as her hand reached for the charred, motionless body before her. As her fingers lightly touched the burned shadow of a man, little flecks of ash falling softly, drifting away with the wind. A slightly stronger breeze carried through the silence, dragging more of the fiend away, the entire body silently collapsing upon itself. The cloudy remains never hit the floor, spreading out over the crowd until it was too fine to be gazed at. Only a small pile of dust remained at the woman’s feet, and all she had done was freeze, her eyes staring, her mouth split slightly in terror.
She remained with her arm outstretched, a slight gurgle of mixed emotions caught in her throat. She swayed slightly, staggered backwards a step, arm dropping, head tilting back to the sky. The gurgle became a groan as she shook her head in disbelief, turning into a whine when she keeled forward, a hand gripping the clothes above her chest.
“No,” she mumbled, kneeling to the floor to stare at the pile of the dust. “No, no, no.”
She began making a noise as if she were in pain, the whine becoming louder and louder, evolving into a wail of horror and sorrow. She staggered to her feet and looked around at us all, tears running rampant down her cheeks, her eyes staring all about in desperation as if to ask us, “Why?” When she couldn’t find an answer among the scornful faces, she turned back to the pile with her heart-wrenching sobs. She continued her emotional display, her cries becoming louder and louder until she were screaming in agony, shrieking in despair. And then, she finally turned upon us once more.
“You!” she screamed in agony, forcing us all to flinch and freeze. “All of you! Butchers! Killers! Enjoying the death of such a good soul with all the depravity your foul little hearts can muster! How could you?!”
There was no response. Nobody had moved since she’d appeared before us, her presence having instilled a terrible fear to rob us of any action.
“Answer me!” she shrieked. “Tell me why you stole his light from the world!”
Again there was nothing but dreaded silence. All were afraid of what she might do if the wrong answer were given. We were saved by the clearing of a throat to our backs, high up on the balcony.
“What we have destroyed tonight is evil!” the King called loud and clear. A brief silence followed before several voices began picking up in support. “What other choice do we have but to cleanse our lands of evil?”
“Evil, you say?” the woman cried in protest. “He was nothing of the sort! He was a kind and gentle man, willing to stand up against tyranny and injustice! It’s you! All of you here are evil!”
“How dare you heathen!” shouted the Bishop by the King’s side. “We follow the divine path! The one laid out in our holy scriptures!”
“Divine path?” the woman scoffed in tears. “Holy scriptures? Tell me, do they allow you to kill starving immigrants? Does it give justification to the slaughter of defenceless people trying to flee the terror of their homelands? Whatever Gods you pray to will surely see you all condemned for your crimes!”
“Blasphemous liar!” the King roared. “Guards! Seize her! Tie her to the stake! Let her join her friend in the afterlife!”
His order freed us from our paralysis, allowing us to draw our swords and make our way through the crowd to the woman on the stage. She saw us coming, yet didn’t move to flee.
“Whether you were just following orders or not,” she spat so we could all hear, “those of you gathered here today have participated of your own free will. You delighted in the murder of a man who had done no wrong.”
“He killed our friends! Our families!” the crowd retorted in cries for vengeance.
“He killed your people, yes, your people who were merciless in the slaughter of the starving, defenceless migrants, people who had only come to your country for aid! You selfish creatures, you would rather bloody your fields than lend your hand! I should’ve let him destroy you all that day, as much as the idea sickens me. At least he’d still be here, by my side, instead of you repulsive, hateful fiends!”
As she’d been speaking, we’d made it to the base of the stage and had begun to climb it. Still she remained unfazed by our approach, only looking to us all with terrible, terrible scorn.
“The thought of killing is repulsive to me, so it pains me horribly that you will not receive the same treatment you gave him. You have forced me into a nightmare I have no means of escaping, and now I welcome you all to join me! I will never forget this moment, I now invite you to do the same!”
The woman raised her hands as she screamed her words, her fingers extended towards the moon. As we rushed towards her, she pulled her hands down and darkness overcame all. Everyone was screaming, the whole city had been gathered under this spell. I couldn’t see anything beyond my sword, but I could hear them all. Terror and agony, that’s all the air held.
I staggered forward, my sword drawn before me, cautiously edging towards the woman that’d plagued us with her curse. The air suddenly rippled before me and out of the darkness charged a half dead man, decayed and rotting, brandishing his sword in crazed desperation for blood. I blocked his strikes again and again, lashing out to defend my life with every opportunity I was granted, until I finally had him impaled. Only a couple more of the wild swings were all that remained, and I slid my sword out of the corpse to begin my hunt again.
The people were screaming, the dead were rising, everything was out of control! I moved forward a couple more steps, my body jolting as the result of a sudden, terrible pain in my back. I screamed liked a child as I fell to my knees, my own blade slipping from my grip. I fell over, impaled.
“Die! Demon!” my assailant yelled as he ran off into the darkness.
Why? Why had I been attacked? I wasn’t one of the risen, I’d slain one moments ago!
I weakly lifted my head to search for the coward that’d stabbed me through the back, but he’d vanished into the surroundings. My eyes grew blurry as I stared off into the emptiness, unable to shut out the screams and cries of the people I knew as they turned on one another. It was the spell, she’d turned everyone against their neighbour, forced us to take the lives of our beloved friends and family. By killing one evil, we’d unleashed a terror far greater.
A pair of boots pierced the veil of darkness and slowly drew towards me. My eyes were unable to keep focus now, everything becoming too blurry to make anything out other than generic shapes. I knew who those boots belonged to though, and I could do nothing to stop her.
“Welcome to my nightmare, and know my wrath is endless!”
I let out a final breath and closed my eyes, my body becoming still, but I couldn’t die here. Not now, not while this evil plagued our homes.
I twitched, fingers curling into the soft ash beneath.