A Monster Inside, page 18
part #1 of Undying Prince Series
Erik pushed down on his rage and raced after Ebbi with Elina still in his arms and Dara at his side. The two other Lightbenders, Carl and Fritz, brought up the rear of their little party.
The streets were already almost empty. Goodwives peered from behind shuttered windows, and husbands and sons hurried out of doorways, armed with bows and homemade spears. The once festive air was gone, replaced by a grim ferocity.
On and on Erik ran, with Elina staring over his shoulder at the small militia growing behind them. They came to a stop in front of the manor, and Kendra rushed out of the house with a long blade and a sword belt in her arms. Erik set Elina down beside Dara.
“Go with your mother,” he told Elina. “I’ll be back soon.”
Erik took the sword belt from Kendra with a nod of thanks and secured it at his waist, wondering if he even knew how to use the weapon. Dara interrupted his musings by pulling him down into a passionate kiss.
“Make sure you come back to me,” she said, unbothered by the whooping and howling that followed their public display of affection. She looked up at Erik, the way every wife should look at her husband, like they were the only two living creatures in existence.
Ebbi’s face turned crimson, and his hand clenched the hilt of his weapon. “Let’s go! We don’t have time to be whispering sweet nothings into women’s ears.” He charged off, and the men followed, Carl and Fritz snickering louder than anyone else dared.
“I will,” Erik said to her, and hurried to catch up with Ebbi. The Lightbender fidgeted, and Erik sensed he wanted him elsewhere. Now that Dara was gone, his continued presence was vexing the top-knotted man. A young man wearing a black coat with wooden buttons ran toward them with a loping gait.
“Vakur!” Ebbi hailed the black-coated youth approaching from the other direction.
“No.” The young Lightbender grimaced. “I’m Vagn.” He touched the quiver of arrows on his back and discharged brownish spit onto the ground. “I left Vakur on top of the watchtower.” He gave a bitter smirk. “It’s been years. You still can’t tell us apart?”
“This is not the time for this conversation.” The half of Ebbi’s face still capable of movement wrinkled. “Report!”
“A herd of four-tusked mammoths has gathered just outside the range of the secondary wardstones,” Vagn said, un-repulsed by the spittle Ebbi splashed onto his face.
“They just passing through?” Ebbi said with fake cheer.
Vagn tightened his grip on his bow and shook his head. “Afraid not. They keep staring at Wolfville like they can see it and more are adding to their number every moment. It looks like a—”
“Beast Swarm,” Ebbi finished.
“Seems so. Do you think something is wrong with the wardstones?” There was something like fear in Vagn’s voice. Erik quickened his pace.
“Do I look like a Janus monk to you?” Ebbi shouted. “And where the fuck is the Duke?”
Something wet spilled onto Erik from above. He scrambled sideways, bumping into Ebbi before he could right himself. He looked up as some of the liquid dripped into his mouth. It tasted like wine.
Above, a black man dressed in a red robe walked across the sky like it was the ground while he sang a song and drank from a bowl. A few of the lyrics drifted on the wind. “Godly is your beauty, honey-sweet. . . .”
“There he is.” Vagn pointed at the scarlet-robed man.
Ebbi sent Vagn a withering glance before chasing after the Duke. “Great he’s drinking again.” Louder. “Lord Asbjörn! Get down!”
Somehow, one of Asbjörn’s steps equaled ten of theirs. He soon outpaced them, disappearing over the twenty-meter-tall stockade. The Duke drew his sword, and moments later a thick column of black smoke billowed up above the vertical logs. Erik could not see what lay at the base of it, but the loud sound of animal squeals gave him an idea.
Ebbi raced ahead, and Erik matched him step for step, even when everyone else had fallen behind. They passed a house that Erik was certain belonged to Hanna and sprinted through the wheat field. Heart pounding, he climbed up a watchtower right behind Ebbi. The two guards already inside made room for them, but it was a tight fit.
Erik frowned at the world outside the walls in puzzlement, then gasped with shock. Beyond the handful of farms and hedge-bordered fields, Asbjörn walked upon the air, raining down rivers of orange flames onto a herd of four-tusked mammoths that numbered in the hundreds. The average mammoth was an eight-ton fortress of flesh, covered in dark hairs and equipped with four massive ivory tusks. The funnel of flames fell upon them, and they burned and screamed like a sounder of swine. Erik shivered.
Instead of fleeing, the herd of four-tusked mammoths charged toward the stockade, undaunted by the dozens of their number that fell, consumed by a blistering inferno with every flicker of Asbjörn’s sword. On and on they came, pounding the earth with their furious stampede.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ebbi whispered as the Watchtower vibrated underneath him. “I’ve never seen four-tusked mammoths behave like this.”
Erik took it all in, in one deep breath, unsure what he should do, or say. Fear and indecision held him still.
Asbjörn changed tactics. Throwing his bowl aside, he climbed higher into the sky and whipped his blade in a circle. The surrounding air flashed crimson, and he fell toward the earth, transforming into a shooting star.
“Get down!” Ebbi yelled.
Erik dropped to his stomach with his arms over his head. The air roared with the sound of an explosion, and the earth shook. The watchtower trembled around him, and the timber beneath him groaned. A cloud of scorching dust blew into the room, stinging his eyes and nostrils. He gasped and felt dirt hot on his tongue.
He stopped coughing, lurched onto his trembling legs, and looked outside. A giant crater greeted him, smoke pouring out of its smoldering depths. All but a handful of the four-tusked mammoths were destroyed. One of the four survivors rose to its massive feet and rushed for the watchtower where he stood. The animal’s long black hairs had almost become a solid flame, and new thin tendrils of smoke added to the cloud that already trailed behind it.
Erik bolted past Ebbi, who was still pulling himself to his feet, and jumped out of the watchtower. Terror clawed at his chest. The frightful cracking of wood rose behind him, and for an instant, the world spun. He smashed into the earth, and a blinding whiteness severed his connection to reality.
■■■
Erik jerked back into consciousness, choking on droplets of ice-cold rainwater. He stared up at the dark, storm-cloud-filled sky in confusion until the pain brought back the memory of his fall. He grunted and pushed himself onto his knees, aware that at least one of his ribs was broken.
Eyes wide, Erik staggered to his feet and took in the destruction the four-tusked mammoths had wrought. The downpour fought to contain the four smoldering holes in the stockade, and broken timber lay strewn all over the wheat field. Underneath the torn logs that had once been part of the watchtower sat Ebbi’s battered corpse, bright blood flowing from his mangled flesh.
Erik turned from the view, and his mouth fell agape when he saw the village. Thick columns of black smoke rose above rows of burning homes. Frantic villagers ran about with buckets of water, doing their best to put out the fire.
“Hanna,” Erik said, staring at the smoke billowing up from her roof. He broke into a run, pain all but forgotten in his rush to reach her house.
The door to Hanna’s home had caught fire but had been put out by the rain. Erik touched it, but it was still hot enough that he had to yank his hand away. He kicked it twice, and it finally opened. Dark smoke escaped through the open door, and he stumbled back, a hand going to his mouth.
“Hanna.” He coughed.
The smoke thinned, revealing Hanna sprawled on the floor next to a fallen beam. He dropped to his knees with a grimace and crawled toward her. The air was much cleaner down near the floor; still toxic enough to make him nauseous, but he could breathe it, if barely. A wave of flames burst through the wall nearest Hanna and Erik quickened his already frantic pace. The air simmered with blistering heat and black spots formed in his vision. He reached her and struggled to drag her to safety.
His lungs burning from the toxic air, Erik pulled Hanna out into the muddy street and collapsed in exhaustion. He opened his mouth and allowed the rain to wet his dry tongue. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and scanned Hanna. There was a lump on the side of her head the size of a walnut.
He ran his hand over her soot-stained cheek. “Hanna.”
Thunder shook the air, and the high-pitched reverberation of a howl finally jolted Hanna awake. Her eyes blinked open, and she looked around.
“Take it slow.” Erik restrained her with a smile when she sat up too quickly. “You’re safe now. I have you.”
Hanna’s blue eyes searched his face. “Erik—”
Erik’s smile turned into a look of terror as a dire wolf appeared out of nowhere and yanked her by the leg. She shrieked, and, for an instant, he could see the desperation in her eyes, perhaps even love, and then she was gone, pulled into the giant maw of an apex predator.
Erik chased after her, his heart rising into his throat. Something yanked him back and he fell to the ground, pain like hot acid tearing a scream out of his mouth. He turned back. A dire wolf gnawed on his arm like a chicken bone. He gave an abrupt shudder, pulled back, and his limb tore away with a spray of crimson.
Wolves the size of small ponies attacked Erik from every side, their gaping mouths filled with a terrifying array of canines and incisors. He huddled against the wet ground, teeth ripping through his chest, tugging at his innards. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his mind strayed.
Chapter 22
Erik lay on his back with his eyes closed, unable to move, trapped within utter blackness. He did not seem to be dead. He could still sense the echoes of the torment that had ravaged his body. Yet the agony was gone, replaced by something else, by a warmth on his face. Sunlight?
His eyes slid open, and he jerked upright. He lay on top of a not-very-wide bed, gasping, half-blinded by the light. He blinked and clutched at his thighs until his sight returned. Cold sweat dampened the back of his neck.
Hanna stood with one leg resting on the foot of the bed, rolling white stockings up her exposed skin. A gust of wind passed through the open window and tossed her golden locks back from her pale shoulders. Her blue eyes flicked to the window with a hint of irritation before settling upon Erik.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re dead!” Erik frantically touched his stomach, arms, and legs, searching for the wounds the dire wolves had torn into his flesh. He found none. Fresh beads of sweat sprouted from his back like new shoots of grass. “I watched you die.” How’s this even possible? Have I gone insane? A stark realization, but not as stark as the reality before him.
“It was a dream, Erik.” Hanna cradled his head to her bosom, soothing his tremors with the warmth of her presence. “How can I be dead? I’m right here.”
Erik gasped, inhaling the fragrance of her naked flesh, sweet despite the hint of sweat. Perhaps she was right, it had all been a dream, a nightmare. For a long moment, he doubted himself and all he had experienced. No! Deep within him remained shadowy remnants of the pain and the horror. It could not have been a dream.
Erik freed himself from Hanna’s embrace and scrambled to his feet. “What day is it? Is today the Renewal?” He touched his nose, and his fingers came away soaked in blood.
“Erik, are you—” Hanna began in a voice throbbing with concern.
“Answer me!”
She blinked. “Yes—what has gotten into you?”
“It wasn’t a dream, H—” Erik’s voice caught in his throat. Terror rose in him anew, and he took a deep breath to bring himself under control. “At least I don’t think it was. I watched you die.” He choked back a sob. “Wolfville was on fire and—I have to warn them. I have to!”
Erik ran out of the room with Hanna’s shouts rising behind him. She was yelling something about “those” . . . or maybe “clothes.” He would have stayed and explained the situation better if he could, but his insides were a boiling cauldron of nerves. The village needed to be warned! Not that he wanted to be the one doing it, but he could not see any way out of it. He had to do what needed to be done, for all their sakes.
Erik dashed through the living room and the kitchen, and leaped out of the house barefooted. He spun in a circle, catching his bearings. Though glimpsed for only an instant, Hanna’s home was as he remembered it, on the edge of the village, next to the wheat field. The sun hung in the sky, a ball of yellow radiance that beat against his bare back, but the touch of warmth was a welcome presence compared to the cold dread pumping in his veins.
He raced toward the heart of the village, heedless of the tiny stones that cut at his feet. Small gardens surrounded the high-peaked, thatch-roofed homes of Wolfville, and red and blue banners hung at their front. “Arm yourselves! A Beast Swarm is coming!”
Faces shifted toward Erik in alarm before turning scandalized. Goodwives gripped aprons with pink hands and aggrieved husbands covered the eyes of nearby children. Why were they not heeding his warnings?
Erik slowed down “Arm yourselves! A Beast Swarm is coming!”
“Pervert!” someone yelled at him.
He jerked and caught himself before he could stumble. His gaze drifted downwards, and his cheeks flamed with mortification. Hanna’s jumbled shouts made sense now. She was telling him to put on clothes. He blocked his private area with a hand but did not stop running or yelling.
Something hard bashed into the back of Erik’s skull. His vision blurred, and his head rang like a struck bell; the reverberations shivered down into his toes. His legs crumbled beneath him and everything went black.
■■■
Erik awoke in complete darkness, groggy and bewildered. He sat up and pressed a hand to the back of his head, wincing at the pain. He dropped his arm and took stock of his situation. His skin itched, and the stink of his surroundings filled his nostrils—salty man-sweat and the reek of decomposing flesh.
He reached out with his hands, sensing damp earth through his fingertips. A growing fear made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He scrambled to his feet. His heart pounded in his chest like autumn thunder, wet and dreary. All around him was dirt, nothing but dirt.
He was buried alive! He shook his head. With his hands stretched over his head, he touched empty air. No, it’s too large to be a grave. Where am I?
The shake of a rattlesnake’s tail froze Erik, held him fast in massive jaws of terror. He clutched at his thighs, and his eyes searched as his imagination made monsters out of the darkness. He paused, focusing on a spot that seemed different from the rest. Darker.
“You’ve forgotten me,” said a slithering voice.
Erik backed right into the damp earth wall, trembling. “Who are you? What are you?”
“Always you ask the same questions,” said the voice, drawing nearer. “‘Who are you? What are you?’ Twice more shall we meet before you know my name. I am the terror that clutches at your heart. I am the Three, I am the One.”
“D-don’t,” Erik stammered. “I don’t understand.” The rattling increased, and the snake wrapped itself around both his legs, slowly growing larger as it continued to wind its way up his body. He shivered. None of this is happening! I must be dreaming . . . or I'm dead.
Such as you never die, they transform into clumps of earth, into grass, the snake whispered in his head.
Erik opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He choked on fear, gasped on it. The serpent tightened its hold on his body. His eyes watered. His fingers twitched helplessly at his side.
“I’ve come for my husband,” a muffled voice from above declared.
Dara! Dara has come for me. A surge of joy rushed through Erik, pumping hope into his pounding heart. He closed his hands into fists, struggling against the pressure at his sides.
The snake hissed. Your love belongs only to me. It sounded almost seductive as its voice rattled through Erik’s skull. Not even death can change that. You are mine. Mine!
The sound of moving furniture descended to Erik, followed by the rumble of booted feet walking on wood. “Always the dutiful wife,” a male voice said to Dara. “You deserve better. Do you know where he was last night?”
“Ebbi—” Dara interjected.
“He was with the Witch!” the Lightbender shouted. “Until this morning when he ran through the streets naked like a lunatic. I would never treat you this way. You need to leave him. Who does he think he is? A nobleman with two wives?”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, and he snarled, even as the serpent brought the bones in his arms and legs close to the point of breaking. Rage seethed and bubbled inside, doing battle with the fear that clenched at his heart.
“And come with you?” Dara asked.
Beloved, long have I waited, the snake said, stopping with its head hovering above Erik’s own. Long have I suffered. Long have I hungered. It flickered its long tongue across his face.
Erik shuddered. Let me go!
You’re mine, the snake said. The others be damned, now that I have you I’ll never let you go. Mine!
“Yes.” Ebbi’s voice quivered with barely controlled longing. “I would treat you the way you should be treated.”
Dara laughed, a melodious sound despite the biting nature of her amusement. “That will never happen,” she said. “I will never leave him.”
“Why? He—”
“Ebbi, you saved my life. For that, you will always hold a special place in my heart, but when you look at me, you see something beautiful that you want to possess. Someone you hope will ease your loneliness. When Erik looks at me, he sees me.”
“I don’t understand.”
