Book 6: Chapter 5: Contact
“How many did you count?” Victor asked Valla, mentally urging Guapo to stop.
“I saw the big one and a few shapes behind it . . .”
“There were at least ten that I made out.” Victor had watched the shadowy figures as they turned away from him, shuffling further into the misty haze. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the army was still a ways off but noted the dark shape of Kethelket fluttering toward them. “Edeya, ride back. Tell Sarl what we found. I don’t want those things to get away.” He jerked his head toward the mist. “Valla, wait for Kethelket; he’s almost here. If that mist is toxic, I’ll warn you.”
“Victor, wait . . .” Valla started to say, but he’d already launched himself down the hill, and Guapo’s long strides left her objection behind. Twenty seconds later, the Mustang’s hooves were kicking up the mist, causing it to swirl and drift. It was thick and damp, and when Victor felt it clinging to his knuckles and arms, then onto his face, he took a breath, tasting his breaths, determined to see if there was anything for his troops to worry about.
The air was moist and carried a musty odor that reminded Victor of an old garbage bag that needed changing. It brought to mind rotting things and wet crawlspaces. Still, it fed his lungs, and he didn’t cough or feel ill. If there was something dangerous about it, it wasn’t immediately evident. Perhaps it was more a byproduct of the invading creatures than a tool of the conquest. He urged Guapo forward, and the big horse ate up the ground, even walking.
Victor found his ability to see inside the mist limited as it closed behind him. He could make out the ground nearby and perhaps twenty feet ahead. Beyond that, things grew hazy; the shrubs, occasional clumps of stones, and sporadic, small trees took on ominous appearances. Everywhere he looked, he thought he saw dark shadows lurking in wait. Victor frowned and cast Iron Berserk, savoring the power that swelled his being. As his vision tinted to red, he made room in his pathways and summoned his banner. The blazing golden sun seemed to have a physical impact on the mists, cooking them off and forcing them back.
“That’s better,” he rumbled, clicking his tongue. As Guapo steered around a slight stony rise, Victor reached up and loosened Lifedrinker. She was eager in his hands, and he knew what she wanted. “We might have some fun today, chica.”
He didn’t know if she would respond, but if so, she never got the chance. With strange grunts and hisses, a dozen shambling, bulky figures charged out of the mist, leaping at Victor and the Mustang. They were big, bipedal, and covered with ragged cloth, strange tatters of vegetation, and mismatched, patchwork armor. What flesh Victor could make out was pale, pitted with gross yellow ulcers and gaping wounds that oozed black fluid.
Victor was Berserk and no slouch, so he saw the attack coming and instantly urged Guapo to dance back. It would have been a good reaction if something massive hadn’t been flying at him from the top of the stone outcropping. A tremendous weight smashed into his right shoulder, bowling him over, off the horse, to tumble onto the rough ground where the other assailants piled on, grasping, clawing, and biting.
Victor roared and thrashed, grasping with his left hand, ripping anything he got ahold of, flinging the bulky figures off him. His right hand did even more to win him free, hacking Lifedrinker in wild arcs. Her blade almost immediately burst into smoldering orange magma-like fury, sizzling through the attackers, ripping their armor, clothing, and flesh. The weirdest thing about the attack and the creatures perpetrating it was their utter lack of vocalization—they breathed loudly and grunted. Still, they didn’t growl, scream, or cry out as Victor finally fought to his feet and began to lay about him with Lifedrinker in a series of masterful cleaves, feints, and hacks.
The shambling hulks were about half his size in his titan form, and they fully occupied Victor’s attention, which might be why he lost track of the bigger one, the creature that had knocked him off his horse. He was soon reminded of its presence, though, when it smashed into him from behind, knocking him forward in a stumble. Despite the attack on his blindside, Victor gathered his balance by ramming into a pair of the smaller shamblers and breaking through before turning to put all his enemies in his frontal arc.
The bigger creature, for Victor had decided these weren’t exactly people, was close to his size, bulky with arms so long they dragged on the ground. It was clearly a different species from the shambling monsters; it had a yellowed bone-like carapace that covered its chest and back. Worse, its brawny, too-long, spongy, gray-fleshed arms were spotted with knobby calcified growths. Despite its monstrous appearance, the thing wore black leather trousers on its stubby, thick legs. Victor hadn’t been able to get a good look at its face because a thick leather mask covered it, exposing nothing but apple-sized, baleful, faintly luminescent, blood-shot eyes.
“Victor!” As he’d squared off with the gigantic, masked brute and the remaining shamblers, Valla and Kethelket stumbled onto the scene of the ambush. She called out as soon as she saw him with Lifedrinker held ready, pacing sideways, trying to get a feel for how fast the monsters could move.
“Kill these little pendejos! Let me work on this big boy!” He needn’t have said anything more—faster than a blink of the eye, Kethelket was dancing among the shamblers on Victor’s left flank, his swords arcing with silver-blue Energy, ripping hunks off them as they shuffled to turn their attention on this new threat. Valla stayed back, but she held up her hands, and suddenly, an arc of lightning, accompanied by an immediate crack of deafening thunder, smashed into one of the shamblers to Victor’s right. In a whirlwind of sparking gusts, she launched herself at the creature she’d stunned with her spell, hacking one of its arms off with Midnight.
Victor saw all that, but he wasn’t standing idly. As soon as Kethelket moved, he leaped forward, and, Lifedrinker held high, hacked downward, determined to split the bony carapace-like armor on the hulk’s chest. The bulky juggernaut flung one of its arms up, trying to intercept Victor’s blow, but he was too slow; Lifedrinker, smoldering and trailing black smoke like a comet hitting the atmosphere, smashed down into that bony plate and . . . bounced off, a few chips of bone following her rebound as Victor struggled to maintain his grip. Meanwhile, the juggernaut’s other arm swung up, and a fist like a wrecking ball hit Victor just under his left ribs, sending him reeling and gasping as his lungs emptied.
“Okay, okay, hang on, chica, I’ll get you a better bite.” Victor danced to the right, hopping the smoldering corpse of a shambler—one Valla had finished off with another thunderous lightning blast. He circled the colossal monster, noting that while it could swing its arms quickly, it didn’t seem too quick on the uptake. It followed his movements but was always a bit behind. It was as though it had to think for a second to confirm what its bulging red eyes were telling it. At least, that’s the impression Victor had as he easily outmaneuvered the creature, circling behind it to launch a blazing diagonal cleave at the leathery cap wrapped around its bulbous head.
“Any thoughts, Valla?” Victor asked, watching Kethelket flutter into the air and then streak northward. As she contemplated the question, Victor kicked at the corpse of the juggernaut again, looking for any sign of a ring or pouch—anything that might be valuable. He supposed if he were in Coloss, they’d probably harvest some of the parts. He didn’t know what was worth harvesting, though, aside from maybe the dense bone carapace. How would he, though? He needed a knife like Tes’s.
“If you consider the fact that the area of ground apparently affected by this mist and the thicker fog further south is hundreds, maybe thousands of square miles, and we stumbled upon this force of fifteen in the first hundred yards . . . what are the odds? What if there are units like this all over the place? What if they can communicate? What if another ten or hundred units like this are coming toward us as we speak?”
“How tough were they? I mean, really? I thought the shambling, rotting creeps were kind of weak.”
“They aren’t particularly dangerous one at a time, but they’re incredibly resilient. Look at them; they’re like constructs of dead body parts and . . . plants or fungus. Ancestors! They stink!” She’d approached one of the dead shamblers and showed Victor how the flesh was rotting on their strange, pale faces. Their eyes were milky, some even rotting with ooze and pus dripping from the sockets. Victor could see strands of hair, twisted and damp, hanging down over some of the creatures’ faces, but worst of all was the way gray-green creepers and clumps of moss or fungus seemed to grow in the rotten flesh.
“Yeah. Let’s get back to the soldiers.” Victor looked about, and, as if in response to his thoughts, Guapo charged out of the mist. “Where’d you go, boy? Just hanging back watching me fight?” He pulled himself up and saw Valla looking around, a scowl creasing her brow. “No Uvu?”
“He was fighting with us at first . . . I think he chased something. He’s usually better about checking back with me.”
“We’ll get one of the scouts to track him. Come on.” Victor held his hand down, and Valla nodded, taking it. He hoisted her up behind him, and then Guapo began to pound over the ground. He’d only crested the first hill when Victor saw a group of soldiers, maybe fifty-strong, running down the next slope toward them. Sarl led them, and Edeya kept pace alongside, riding Thistle. When everyone had halted, Victor rode up to them and said, “They’re dead, but we feel like more are probably coming. We should get the soldiers set.”
“The rest of the cohort isn’t far behind.” Sarl gestured back the way they’d come. “What are we dealing with?”
“We killed some . . .” Victor let his words trail off as something new pricked at his ears. A distant low rumble that he almost missed at first. When he concentrated, though, he began to pick out the distinct notes—drums. He heard drums, and they were in sync, rolling through the cloying mist like distant thunder. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly where they came from, other than south, but he thought it seemed like there was more than one source. “I think you might have been at least partially right, Valla.”
“Soldiers! Back up the hill! Form a front line! Shield wall formation!” Sarl immediately began barking orders, and the soldiers responded with alacrity, turning in an about-face and marching up the gentle slope toward the top. Victor hoped they’d be able to form up before whatever was banging those drums showed up. He hoped the soldiers were ready, and he hoped there wasn’t anything much worse than what he, Kethelket, and Valla had already dealt with. “Any further commands?” Sarl asked him, breaking his train of thought.
“No. I’ll be here. I’ll keep my banner up, and I’ll help deal with whatever comes our way. I’ll be up in a minute; I want to talk to Kethelket first.”
Sarl nodded and turned to follow his soldiers. “On the double!”
Victor turned back to the south, watching the mist, listening to the drums, wondering if he should just get the soldiers to start double-timing it all the way back up to the keep. What if a thousand shamblers came out of that fog? What if a hundred of the bone juggernauts did? What if the entire Glorious Ninth got wiped out because he didn’t know better than to retreat when they had the chance?
“Here they come,” Valla said, tugging on his shoulder and gesturing to the sky above the retreating soldiers. Victor looked and saw the Naghelli, all fifty, fluttering toward him. “What are you going to tell them?”
“Just to get us an idea of what’s coming and to get a look at that structure you saw. I feel like we should maybe run. Another part of me wants to spit in my own face for thinking it. We’ve caught the invaders by surprise here. They might have a lot of units nearby, but for all we know, they’re sending a response to the three of us. They don’t know we’ve got more than six hundred soldiers on that hill. This might be our best chance to really sucker punch ‘em.”
“I’m with you. Listen to your instincts, Victor.”
