The only thing I could think to do was shout, “The tree line!”

Instantly the adventurers all turned to me and then looked to where my eyes where locked. Yandakiva let out a horrified yelp as the figures slowly began to approach. Yinla pulled her bow from her shoulder. Practically ripping an arrow from her quiver, she notched it and began to look around. There was a shake in her hands. Harmond hefted his shield and began to try and pull the sword from it’s sheath. Mack turned, his head swiveling. The look of panic in his eyes was mixed with disbelief. He ran over to the log where he left his spear and kicked it up from the snow, catching it mid air. Veline looked at me and I growled, “Put me down and fight.”

Instantly, an almost evil glee spread across her face as she lowered me down. The corpses moved slowly, but deliberately. Spreading out and moving to encircle the camp. The one holding the hung of flesh moved forward. The corpse’s voice was wheezing and had a sound like it was painful to speak. Yet it was full of nothing but malice. He shouted in a horrifically horse voice, “The scent! Living, fresh blood!”

Yandakiva flinched as she began running her hand along her belt of wands. Mack asked, his voice full of disbelief, “H-how many are there?”

My eyes darted around as my mind raced. That physical feeling continued to boil up inside. They just seemed to keep appearing. Worse, they continued to slowly circle the camp. Yinla moved to be by the mage woman. I wondered how so many had managed to sneak up on us. I wondered how no tracks where even seen. She spoke, her voice straining, “I don’t know.”

Then, dropping the chunk of gore he was carrying, the corpse man rushed forward howling like a monster. Harmond hadn’t yet to pull the weapon from it’s sheath. He raised his shield and the undead slammed hard into him. He held and shoved it back. The dead man was howling like a frenzied animal the entire time. Mack ran forward and thrust the spear forward. It’s tip drove deep in the corpse’s stomach, but it had little effect outside of the force. It gripped the shaft reflexively.

At that the surrounding forest burst into seemingly endless howls of the corpses. They began dashing forward, stumbling over buried rocks and branches. Yinla began letting lose arrow after arrow into their face. Yandakiva pulled a wand and readied herself, shouting, “Fire!”

I took a step forward, unsure what I could even do. Harmond had finally freed his sword. He slashed the throat of the undead who had slammed into, but it didn’t seem to do much of anything. The arrows where staggering and knocking over some. A few didn’t rise, but most struggled to their feet. Veline shot forwards to the first to reach the edge of the camp nearest her. Her tail’s blade ripped through the corpse, ripping it’s head off.

Then, softly, a voice spoke into my ear. An emotionless voice whispered, “Weakness. Yet again?”

I froze for a moment. Yandakiva turned her wand to one nearly the opposite side from her, on the right side of the camp. Flames shot forth and engulfed it. A few behind it were caught up. Thankfully, the flames missed the tents on that side, and the corpses flailed wildly and collapsed. Mack managed the rip the spear free, along with the undead hand and stab one that was upon him. The voice whispered to me, “Yet again?”

I turned to see them coming from the direction that no one was looking. One knocked over a tent as he stumbled toward me. I summoned forth a phantom like spear of my own and went directly for his head. It cut through like the dead man was nothing but butter, and it instantly went limp. I shouted, “Aim for the heads!”

Yandakiva kept shot flames again, shouting, “Two!”

Harmond and Mack began striking at their heads. Veline flew about the camp striking out at any she could. I wondered how long she could keep going without using magic to allow me to keep up my weapon. She was still laughing as she went. For some reason, that feeling seemed to only grow as I realized that. I let the spear fade and formed a sword. It seemed to slash through just as well. I swung it as quickly as they corpses kept coming forward, trampling and knocking down each other when they got in the way. I feared that I wouldn't be able to keep up with their numbers.

Slowly we I realized we were being pushed back into the center. Another gout of flame from Yandakiva and she shouted, “One!”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

A panic began in me as I felt my wounds burning. Mack turned and struck the head of one who almost got to Yinla. Harmond kept having to bash away others. His sword often doing more as a club in removing heads from the decayed necks. Yandakiva turned let lose flames past Harmond. It was almost too close. This time it set a tent on fire. I couldn't tell who's in that moment. The smell of burning rot and smoke was starting to fill the area.

Too much longer and we’ve all would be back to back. Yet more kept running forward. Somehow, yet more kept coming. The voice asked, “Again?”

The magic was starting to burn my skin as I kept the weapon together. My wounds flared with pain. Yinla reached for an arrow, only to find nothing, and shouted, “I’m out!”

“Fuck!” was all Mack could say as one slammed into him and he was forced backwards. Barely, he had managed to raise his weapon in time. The spear blocking it’s mouth as it tried to bite at him. Yinla turned, kicked the corpse in the knee, and it's leg gave way. She swung her bow on it’s head, leaving it to go still. Mack pulled his spear free and clubbed another. Yandakiva pulled another wand from her belt and shouted, “Fire!”

She pointed it at a group and it let out a yet another flaring wave. The dead were tripping over each other constantly, but there seemed to no end. Veline was now slaying as many as she could that were on the ground from it. I began to feel a hopelessness boiling up in me. Again, that voice whispered, “Again?”

I slashed wildly, the adrenaline the only thing stopping the pain from getting at me. Wild thoughts ran through my head. Was this some sort of attack on me? I could see the magic burning the skin on my hand. Had some cultist seen me from somewhere with Veline? She was slowing from the shared pain. Was I about to get these adventurers killed because of it? I could see Harmond struggling. His armor was weighing heavily on him now. Yinla was now reduced to swinging her bow as a club. I could see tears in her eyes. Yandakiva dropped the second wand after using it repeatedly. I could see burn marks on her hand. Mack was no longer stabbed, sweeping out the legs of the undead and clubbing them with the shaft. I could see in his eyes that he believed this was where he would die.

We might have already been over ran if not for their careless charging. They tripped over each their fallen and often stomped each other to death. All there was in them was pure, unfiltered blood-lust and rage. I couldn't stop them all. I was already reaching my limit in every way. I realized, we’re going to all die here. I had just relaxed around them and it was likely they’d not survive. It would be my fault. People would die because of me again. The dull voice, like it was right next to my ear, spoke, “Again?”

The adrenaline wasn’t enough. My swings were slowing. Veline had cut one down that I was unable to stop. if It’d have pushed me over? That’d have been it. The tents were burning. The smell of smoke, rot, and burning flesh was filling the air. Everything began to blur as my rage against it grew more and more. I could hear breaths, loud like a panting animal. Everything around me seem to pulse wildly. The magic was burning my very muscles now. My vision was blurring. Disorientation was taking it’s effect. The voice whispered, "Again?"

I howled out as kept pushing my body further and further. More and more pain flared in my senses. If I died, it would be again. It would be my fault again. I couldn’t die. If I died, then I’d wake again to see these adventurers dead in the piles of corpses. If I died, yet more lives would be pointlessly lost to my weakness. The voice whispered, “Again?”

My vision had blurred to chaotic colors. The burning of the magic through me had killed nerves so harshly that I felt nothing. All that was in my mind was the sole thought. I couldn't die. The voice asked, “Again?”

At that moment I felt as if something was right beside my head. The voice growled, “Are you about to die again? Are you so weak?”

I could practically feel death looming over my shoulder as everything began to slowly fade. I took a step forward and swung the blade through another of the undead. I couldn't let death take me. I had to move away from it. All that pain had finally made me numb. The magic had burned away my ability to feel. I couldn’t hear anything. My eardrums had to have burst. Another step forward. There was no survival, but I had to. I refused to die. I had not not die. I couldn't die. Not again.

Even as death’s fingers began to wrap around me my neck, I just kept stepping forward. Striking down any corpse that came to stop me. The cold grip of nothingness taken every sense but sight. It was slowly stripping it away. I refused and kept moving forward. I growled out, even though I couldn’t hear it, “Again.”

Another two. Another three. Another one. Slashing away the dead. One foot in front of another. One step. More corpses in my way. I spoke along side the voice, “Again.”

I kept pulling myself, inch by inch away from the grip of nothingness. “Again.”

One. A step. Slice. Cut. Forward. “Again.”

“Again.” Just had to keep moving. Slashing away any of the undead who appeared. Step by step. Even if I died, I had to carve a path through. They could escape if I did. I knew if I stopped, death itself would take me. It was right behind me as I moved, inch by inch. “Again.”

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I would not let myself. I just had to keep moving forward. Foot by foot. Step by Step. I felt nothing. I had nothing but that burning want. I was alive. As long as I was alive, I could fight. Another swing. Inch by inch. “Again.”

“Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.” it became like the beating of my heart. One after another. Step and swing. There was nothing else. Again and again. They where everywhere. Something exploded, but that didn't matter to me. I slammed into one of them and it fell to the ground. I raised the blade up.

The voice growled, "Too weak to save them."

My entire body shuttered. The words startled me. How had I even heard them? There was a loud sound of metal being sundered.

I found myself standing there, the ghostly blade in my hand and Harmond stood before me. I could see right through a hole cut into the metal. His shield raised as Yandakiva lay there on the ground. The world came slamming back into me. There wasn’t any of the dead left. He stood there, horror carved deep into his face. A sickened feeling filled my stomach in that instant as my blood froze.

A pair of arms where wrapped around my chest. Veline was screaming, her voice hysterical, “ENOUGH! PLEASE! IT HURTS!”

The snow was melted and mixed all around with the foul blood of the undead. Gore and viscera was littered everywhere. My heart was throbbing so fast it hurt. The place was putrid in it’s smell. Slowly my grip loosened, misery filling me as the spell faded. I slumped back into Veline as I stared at my hands. My eyes wide with confused terror. They where perfectly fine.

The voice growled and muttered, “Alive.”