James sat slumped upon the ground, watching with disinterest as the others hurriedly searched the village for provisions. They had abandoned much of their food when they had fled their campsite the night before, confident that the villagers of Venn would re-supply them. Needless to say, the villagers had been generous to a fault, leaving behind everything in their possession for the taking.

Tavin emerged from one of the strange dwellings and hurried over, clutching an armful of blue apples which he tumbled into James’ travel sack.

‘It is ill fortune indeed to be partaking of Venn’s fruit in such a manner,’ Tavin muttered to himself as he pulled the drawstring tightly closed, ‘but our need is the greater this day.’

The young man attempted to smile as he pulled James to his feet, but even he could not complete the gesture that usually came so easily to him.

‘We leave now, Jame,’ he said, drawing the travel sack about James’ shoulders. ‘You shall travel upon my back, if that is to your liking.’

James remained silent, but allowed himself to be hoisted upon the other man’s back. Together they made their way back through the village, the silence somehow greater now that the fate of its inhabitants was known.

They found the rest of the party waiting for them at the centre of the village where a number of standing stones formed a ring around a well-tended green. The large granite stones had once been engraved with signs and symbols, but whatever meanings they once carried had long since been blurred by time. The quiet conversation stopped as they drew closer, each of the warriors burdened by the fate that had befallen the village. Their bodies were tense, their hands rigid upon their various weapons. Leander stood apart from the rest, her lithe body smouldering with undiminished fury. When she saw them approach she gave the signal to move on, her stride brisk with impatience.

Their course lay due east across a well-trodden path that passed once more through the tall meadow grasses. Across the shifting sea of yellow, the distant forest loomed on the horizon like a band of gathering darkness.

Swaying upon Tavin’s back, James bowed his head and closed his eyes. It was undeniable that his imagination was capable of great wonder and beauty, but now he was more afraid of what other nightmares it might also bring to bear against them. Better to keep his eyes closed and his mind shut…

But they had not travelled far beyond the last house when a terrible sound rent the air. It was like the horrible wail of an air-raid siren, a terrifying howl that increased in pitch before sinking low to a menacing warble. The sound was repeated again and then again, until the very ground shook with the deafening roar. Looking frantically around, James was shocked to discover that no one else appeared to have reacted to it.

‘What’s that horrible sound?’ he asked.

‘There is no sound,’ Tavin replied curtly.

‘I can hear it now!’ James shouted in alarm.

Twisting his head around, he gazed to the edge of the forest where the sound appeared to issue.

Less than a mile to the north, the forest was in motion. At first he thought the movement was merely the wind billowing the heavy curtains of leaves at the forest’s edge. But with a puzzled shake of his head, he promptly dismissed the idea. As strange as it seemed, it was more as though the trees were un-knitting themselves from one another; bending and splintering onto the lush meadow that should have been beyond its reach…

‘Tavin, look!’ James pleaded.

‘What is it now, Jame?’ Tavin replied with frustration.

But when Tavin turned to where he was pointing, James felt the other man tense beneath him. His reply came in the form of a shout, a single word that made his blood run suddenly cold.

‘Weevil!’

James’ heart quickened as he looked back to where the movement continued to flicker against the distant line of trees. A mass of spindly shapes were gathering, their movements oily and slick within the shadows of the trees. The things appeared apprehensive to leave the shelter of the forest, but as their numbers grew they gained momentum like a dark flood building against a fragile dam.

‘Back to the village!’ Leander screamed, drawing a brace of arrows from the quiver at her hip.

Tavin moved with impressive speed despite his burden, and James was left to gaze in fascinated horror as the creatures came pouring across the meadow.

The things were grotesque; wrinkled and misshapen, with blackened flesh like diseased bark covering their bodies. At times, they resembled skeletal men ambling on thin legs and then they were more like spiders, tumbling and cart-wheeling in a frenzy of movement. Their limbs were long and sinewy, tapering down to points that gouged the meadow grass like knives in soft flesh. And as they drew ever nearer, their distorted screams likewise stabbed the air.

‘Jaaame! Jaaaaame! Jaaaaaaaaaaaame!’

James shuddered at hearing what appeared to be the monsters’ attempts at calling his name. Somehow these filthy abominations knew who he was!

‘They’re coming for me!’ James screamed, as Tavin lowered him onto the grass within the circle of granite stones.

‘They come for us all,’ Tavin replied breathlessly.

‘But they’re calling my name!’ James pleaded.

Tavin looked at him uncertainly, before taking up his bow.

‘Weevil do not speak, they scream,’ Tavin replied, his frown deepening. ‘Stay close to Torrinth.’

Torrinth appeared at his side as Tavin raced forward, taking up a position beside Leander and Fen, whose bows were already pulled back across the grim set of their faces. The old man’s sword came into his hand as he calmly watched the screaming monsters sprint from between the houses.

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The air thrummed as the three archers released their drawn bows loosing arrows into the seething mass. Weevil tumbled to the ground with arrows in their heads, necks and what passed for torsos, but the wave of blackened bodies continued to pour forth, their nimble limbs propelling them over their fallen numbers with terrifying ease.

The monsters danced gleefully to the edge of the stone circle, their movement upon their strange limbs now seeming more confident, even graceful, as they drew closer. James winced as more arrows whistled over his head, the first of the creatures to enter the ring of stones crumpling lifelessly to the ground.

Finally, Kirrin and Wellin drew their swords and stepped calmly forward to engage the wave of monsters. Despite the horror of the clamouring horde they betrayed not a hint of fear. As the first of them tumbled into their path, their gleaming blades cut them down, showering the air in gouts of black blood.

The weevil screamed their rage, thrusting their blade-like limbs at the two men like bony lances. But each time, the men deftly danced between them, severing the limbs of the creatures like branches chopped from misshapen trees. Even so, the sheer number of weevil threatened to overwhelm them, and slowly they were pushed back towards the line of houses at their rear.

‘Torrinth!’ Kirrin yelled as he quickly cut down two more weevil.

James gazed up in terror as Torrinth roughly grabbed the loose fabric of his robes and dragged him backwards. The archers drew their swords and leapt forward to join the fray as the old man paused before the entrance to a house. Turning his hard eyes on James, he nodded once before shoving him through the heavy curtain and into the darkness beyond.

***

James shivered in the gloom as the muffled sounds of battle intruded from beyond the thin walls of the house. It was a relief to be rid of the horrible sight of the monsters, and yet, not seeing them was somehow worse. Kirrin’s stoic voice continued to contest with the screams of the attacking weevil as he gave terse commands in the defence of the stone circle, but against their deafening noise his voice sounded unbearably feeble.

James dragged himself to the back of the circular room, seeking to be as far away from the screams and shouts as possible. His cloth sack trailed behind him, loosing blue apples that rolled drunkenly across the floor. Reaching the far wall, he laced his hands tightly around his knees and began to rock backwards and forwards.

‘They don’t exist, they don’t exist, they don’t exist,’ he repeated to himself hysterically.

In a vain attempt to steady his panic he surveyed the gloomy interior of the room, seeking the mundane and ordinary as a tonic to the horrors he had so recently witnessed. The floor was fashioned from concentric circles of polished wood, culminating in the blackened remains of a fire pit at its centre. High above, a small opening provided the only light into the room, a fall of golden sunlight illuminating the remains of a hastily abandoned meal. His mind involuntarily dredged up the memory of the slaughtered family he had helped to cut down from the trees. He imagined them sitting around a similar table, their carefree smiles evaporating on their faces as the screaming monsters descended upon them.

The light inside the room dimmed.

James eyes rounded upon the hole in the roof but the circle of blue sky remained clear. The sounds of battle seemed to grow nearer and James looked back down to the far door. At any moment, he expected the heavy curtain to be flung aside as the murderous creatures poured inside. But somehow the warriors beyond the thin walls were holding them at bay.

When the light in the room dimmed a second time, he jerked his head back to the circle of blue above him. He hoped it was just a passing bird or the wind-swept branch of the willow tree beside the house. But what he saw instead made his mouth run dry. A long, thin object slid silently into the room, followed swiftly by another and then another, like the crooked legs of a spider emerging from its nest. The room was plunged into momentary darkness as a wizened black body emerged through the hole like something squeezed from a foul tap. The weevil hung from the ceiling for a moment as two piercing blue eyes opened in its misshapen head. Its cruel mouth sneered, baring teeth like shards of blackened glass.

James’ arms hopelessly swept the floor at his sides, desperately seeking weapons that were not there. The thing hanging above him seemed to take pleasure in the display for it began to chuckle, a rasping, guttural sound that set his teeth on edge. At last, his hand fell upon his cloth sack and he frantically opened it, pulling out bundles of food and scattering the last of the blue fruit across the room.

‘Jaaame! Jaaame! Jaaame!’ the creature rasped as it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

It crouched for a moment within its five spindly limbs; a bony cage surrounding the bloated husk of its body.

‘No pointies! No pointies!’ the weevil cackled as it slowly unfurled its spindly legs.

James screamed for help but the terrific sounds of battle continuing to rage outside the house completely smothered his plea. The monster crept forward, continuing its guttural laugh from somewhere deep within its throat.

His hands again sought the insides of the sack, as though hope could only be finally extinguished when it was completely empty. His hand clutched at something hard and he drew out an object wrapped in green cloth. The weevil paid no attention to his find, continuing to laugh as though these futile actions only heightened the enjoyment of its impending kill.

‘Make bones come out of you! Red bones! Red bones!’

The weevil was now salivating, a thick cord of drool hanging from its gaping maw.

James pulled the cloth from the bundle and looked down at the object in his hands. For a moment, he merely stared at it, his eyes unable to register the thing now sitting between his fingers. But then understanding dawned and he held the slender blade aloft. It was the very same dagger Tavin had crafted from the branch of willowing only the morning before. How it had come to be in his possession was a mystery, but he desperately raised it before him all the same.

When the weevil finally registered the threat, its arms and legs suddenly scrambled for purchase upon the polished floor. Clumsily, it lurched forward, its eyes now fierce blue diamonds in its black head.

‘Hidden pointy!’ it screamed with rage.

James clutched the dagger between his hands and held it aloft as the monster launched itself forward, its sharp blade-like limbs aimed for his head. But, as the monster left the ground a terrific explosion of sound erupted from above the house. It was the sound of the demonic siren that had heralded the weevil from the forest, a resonant boom that seemed to thump the air from his lungs.

The monster’s eyes grew wide with fear, its limbs suddenly flailing in the air, missing James’ head by inches. As the weevil fell upon him, James raised the dagger in awkward defence, the handle bucking as its vile bulk descended upon him. There was a moment of resistance against the blade and then its entire length sank into its tough hide. The hideous body convulsed and shook with its impaling, a slew of black blood covering James in sudden warmth.

‘I sorry master, I sorry!’ the creature babbled as it bled to death.

James tried vainly to scramble from under the body as it fell, but the beast’s leaden weight pressed upon him, squashing him against the hard floor. His breath came in quick pants as he tried to roll the dead carcass off him, but the monster’s pointed feet were now impaled in the wooden floor, pinning him to the ground.

As though from far away, he realised that the sounds of battle beyond the house were drawing to an end. A distant part of his mind wondered which side had won, but as the heavy silence descended, all was becoming black…

There was a sudden flare of white light and then strong hands were reaching forward to lift the dead creature from him. He drew in a deep, painful breath and looked up into Tavin’s wide smile. The young man’s face was splattered with black blood like smears of oil, but the smile growing beneath it won through the gore like sunlight breaking between dark clouds. Offering his hand, the young man pulled him easily to his feet.

With a gleeful chuckle, Tavin slapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

‘Jame, slayer of weevil!