Death's Reach, page 5
part #2 of Hungry Gods Series
She drew closer to the elf. She knew he kept his book in the large pouch on his waist. She’d seen him touch it fondly, though he would never read it again. With one last look around, she knelt down next to him.
Yes, he still breathed. That meant he hadn’t changed yet. She grabbed his pouch and drew his attention.
His hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist. Sightless eye sockets turned toward her as though he might somehow still see her. Somehow she managed not to scream. She pulled free and fell backward, scuttling away from his fingers that stretched out after her.
“Killlllll mmmeee…” His voice sounded like an old man choking on dirt. Somehow he lifted up on his elbow. He searched for her blindly.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Pllleasssse…”
Tears threatened to blind her. He looked horrible. She’d hardly been able to look at him the entire time they’d traveled together. His friend, Serina, had cared for him tenderly. Lysa couldn’t imagine having to deal with his burns and the missing flesh. Besides, he smelled like burnt pork. She’d stayed as far away from him as possible.
He stared blindly in her direction a while longer. He could only support himself for a few seconds before giving up on her and falling back, resuming his sightless staring at the sky.
She angrily wiped a fist across her eyes. She couldn’t be weak. Mykel and Dorian depended on her. She crawled back toward Aleran, as quietly as possible. His breathing came harsh, as though his lungs struggled to continue.
As softly and quietly as possible, she undid the latch on the pouch. He stirred slightly, but didn’t attempt to grab her again. Carefully she grabbed the spine of the spell book and slid it out.
His breathing stopped. She paused, book only halfway out. Though he no longer gasped for breath, his body still moved.
He didn’t move.
Something moved within him.
Unable to look away, she stared at the way things rippled beneath the flesh. It looked like dozens of gophers burrowed just out of sight. His body contorted as their movements picked up and the body swelled, growing unnaturally larger, as though the elf gained hundreds of pounds in seconds.
She yanked the book free and threw herself backward as the body burst, releasing a cloud of sprites into the air. They were covered in the gore that had previously been Aleran.
Holding the book to her chest, she got to her feet and ran.
The beating of their wings sounded like a plague of flies pursuing her. She didn’t look back, she knew if she did she would give up. She ran through the brush, heedless of the branches slapping her and slashing at her face. She didn’t care which direction she ran, as long as she could hear them she had to keep moving.
This forest had become death.
CHAPTER 7
Lysa darted and twisted as the sprites closed in. The small faerie zombies lacked the coordination of their living peers, and it gave her the advantage, if only a small one. They were unable to move through the thick overgrowth, despite their size, and their clumsy flying crashed them into trees and branches. They focused only on her, oblivious to obstacles.
She had youth and her size favoring her, and though the brush hampered her, when she hit a game trail, she ran for all she was worth. She couldn’t tell how many of them followed her. Their numbers more than made up for those that crashed and fell behind.
She couldn’t run forever, and they would never tire.
She turned sharply and came across an old tree with a hollow big enough for her to slip inside. She threw herself in, hoping she’d moved quickly enough.
The sprites came into view. Their colors had dulled, losing the brilliance they’d possessed in life, and further darkened by their meal of Aleran. They passed so closely she could’ve reached out and grabbed one. They didn’t see her, and disappeared down the path.
She chose not to move for some time. Her fingers ached, and she realized how tightly she clutched the book, as though it were a talisman capable of protecting her.
She wished Mykel would find her already. Despite the time of day, the tall trees blocked out the sun and dimmed the woods.
Detritus filled the hollow, beneath which worms, spiders, and beetles moved, disturbed by her presence. Before the spread of the walking dead, nothing could’ve made her hide there. She would’ve ran out screaming and grossed out. She still didn’t like them, but their living presence comforted her.
She hated running and being afraid. She hated being alone. She sniffed back her tears, refusing to cry. She couldn’t be a little girl anymore, scared of ogres and goblins and shadows. Her mother had always told her that women didn’t fight. Well, Serina and Lara did. They weren’t afraid. They fought, and they were girls.
Maybe she could fight too.
Lysa opened the spell book. The first page greeted her with a writing she’d never seen before. She could see the order within it, but if they were words she couldn’t tell. She flipped through the pages looking for anything familiar. Some of the pages had drawings of symbols and diagrams of hand gestures. The book contained numerous spells, some she could read, others she couldn’t, though all were in Aleran’s handwriting. He’d collected over a hundred spells, along with chronicling things he’d encountered and places he’d discovered that possessed any magical significance.
She found a short spell that she could read, only four lines long and three words per line. Though the words were unfamiliar, she could pronounce them. An illustration showed a wizard with a palm of flame. Aleran had liked fire, though it had been his downfall.
The sprites had been gone for a while. She stuck her head out, and glanced around. Aside from the rending of the trees in the distance, she heard nothing else. She crawled out of the hollow, and wondered which way to go.
She decided on away from the screaming trees.
She found the game trail again, and walked slowly, eyes continually scanning the trees for any signs of movement. Some of the area looked familiar. She picked up her pace, and burst back into the clearing.
Aleran’s bits and pieces were still scattered about. In the middle of the gore crouched a lone sprite, still nibbling on an unidentifiable chunk of the elf, its little wings twitching as it chewed. Barely larger than a butterfly, the faerie produced a strange, high-pitched mewling sound.
Lysa took a slow step back. It hadn’t seen her.
Her heel came down on a dead branch. It snapped, and she stopped, hoping it hadn’t heard.
The sprite looked up and turned its head, looking about. As its gaze fell upon her, it studied her curiously. She didn’t move, she didn’t dare to breathe. It turned, getting to its feet, its wings beating faster and faster until it lifted into the air.
She couldn’t run anymore. She wanted to be brave. Next to her foot she found a heavy branch, large enough to use as a club, yet small enough for her.
She dropped the book at her feet and swept up the stick. She’d never been good with a weapon, even when just play-fighting with her brothers. She put all of her strength into the swing. It didn’t feel like much. She connected, splattering the sprite in an explosion of blood, sparkles, and tiny body parts.
It felt satisfying.
She could fight. The feeling of victory filled her with confidence. She sat the stick down, and recited out loud the spell, holding her hand out, palm up, just like in the illustration.
With the first line her hand tingled. She had difficulty identifying the sensation. It felt as though the air about her hand swirled. With the second line, the pressure increased, as though someone held her hand. She continued on, fascinated. She said the words to the third line, and the air itself pressed in against her from all sides.
The weight of the fourth line became something physical. She could almost see it. Her entire body tingled with the sorcery as she summoned something from nothing. Her hair lifted and blew back as though from an ethereal breeze. The world shimmered before her eyes, and in her palm she produced a small ball of flame.
It startled her as it burst into existence, with all of the sensations of the casting instantly disappearing. She panicked in fear of being burnt and threw the flame before it could burn her.
It shot from her hand faster than anything she’d ever seen, streaking across the clearing to explode into the forest line. It blasted the trees, sending branches flying.
She stared wide-eyed at the damage. It had hit like a giant’s punch, coated in flame. A few dead limbs burned, but the trees had not ignited.
A smile stretched slowly across her face. She hugged the book and headed toward the tree screams.
CHAPTER 8
Lysa reached the border of the nightmare, where strange women with wooden bodies attacked the trees, gnawing through the bark with their wooden teeth. The trees emitted a strange sound, their trunks popping and twisting, and visibly died. The line of death stretched away in both directions.
She did not see her brother. She feared he’d been lost somewhere within the madness. She longed to utter the words to the spell, but dared not until she’d found him.
The dead dryads feasted on the bark of the surrounding woods. Lysa would never have imagined that a tree person eating another tree would be so disgusting, but somehow they accomplished it. Keeping low, she moved through the timber as cautiously as possible. Being small, she could slip along fallen trees without being seen.
Ahead she heard ripping and tearing that did not sound at all like breaking branches. Her instincts screamed for her to turn away. She had to look. If it was her brother, she could help him.
A large number of the dryads were clustered around a spot where they pushed and fought to get to the center. She stood up on her toes to see what they ate, but still couldn’t see.
It couldn’t be Mykel. They wouldn’t be interested in eating him. But who then? Her friends? Maybe it was a deer or other animal. She grabbed the low branches of a dead tree and pulled herself up until she could see.
The dryads were eating the elves that had led them here. They were still tangled within the branches of a toppled spruce, betrayed by the forest they’d fought to protect.
Since the zombie invasion, she’d seen plenty of their nightmarish atrocities. She kept thinking eventually the sights would stop bothering her; her nightmares blended in with her waking life to where she sometimes wasn’t sure which she had actually lived through. Still, she couldn’t watch for long, and the way the tree limbs wrapped around the elves looked unnatural.
Suddenly she didn’t feel so safe on her own perch.
Moving faster than she should, she dropped to the ground and shuddered, wiping her hands on her blouse.
Mykel had to be nearby. The dead flora continued to take no notice of her. Lysa bit her lip and decided to take a chance.
“Mykel!” she screamed.
He didn’t answer.
She did attract the attention of the wood nymphs.
All down the line the creatures looked up and eyed her hungrily. A few went back to their meal, most pulled away, stumbling toward her. They were not as distracted as she had thought.
Lysa took a step back as the fear threatened to overwhelm her. The feel of the book in her hands anchored her. She didn’t have to run. She could fight.
Tucking the book under her arm, she stood her ground. The spell came back easily, and the fire returned faster, before she’d uttered the entire incantation. She pointed her palm at the nearest dryad. The ball of fire shot out, immolating the creature in a blaze that rapidly consumed it.
Even burning, the creature took a few more steps. Its dead wooden form burned hot and fast. The flames licked upward, consuming its head first, before it collapsed to the forest floor, resembling nothing more than a twisted, smoldering log.
More dryads came at her from every direction, with new ones from the dying trees joining them. She began the words of the verse again, feeling the sorcerous power surge with each of the spoken words. She managed to launch another ball at a nymph only ten feet away. As another stepped over it, the fire shot up its legs, attracted to the combustible deadwood. It made it a few feet further before collapsing.
Again she said the words, bringing the magic fire into existence. As she threw it at another zombie, the air shimmered all about her. She could see the magic!
The next flaming creature stumbled and fell against a tree where another one of the creatures emerged. The tree lit up as easily as the zombie. The flames rose into the branches, putting off an unbelievable amount of heat, and despite being twenty feet away, made her step back.
And then the trees next to it ignited.
Though the zombies came after her the fire spread quickly, moving through the dead layer of branches that littered the earth, finding the dead as though it had a mind of its own.
Lysa cheered as it consumed the dryads. The heat grew intense, nearly stealing her breath and baking her skin. She turned and ran.
Behind her, a choking black cloud of smoke rose into the sky as the forest burned. A tiny voice screamed in the back of her mind, What have I done? Mykel’s back there! She ignored it, and bit her lip to force away tears. The smoke chased after her, covering the ground like a mist.
She ran until she could run no more. She sat down on a fallen log to catch her breath. A light breeze ruffled her hair, taking the smoke away from her. Even through the thick trees, the fire had still pursued her for some distance. She could see it rising over the tree tops where the smoke blacked out the sky.
Something moved in the trees. Lysa jumped to her feet, ready to utter the spell again at the first sign of trouble. The smoke made it horribly dark, cloaking her pursuer in shadows. It didn’t move like one of the tree creatures, though. It moved like…
… a man. Like Mykel.
He approached her slowly, his face looking disfigured. “Mykel!” she cried, “Are you hurt?”
He didn’t answer, his lip curling in a snarl. As he neared, she saw he wasn’t burnt. Blood and gore caked his chin and mouth. He’d attacked and eaten someone.
A part of her urged her to cast the spell, now, while she still could. The man coming toward her did not carry Mykel’s spark. He’d lost to the zombie within.
The less rational part of her mind, the part she listened to, told her it didn’t matter.
Her brother reached for her. She didn’t move.
“Hi, Mykel,” she said.
His expression instantly changed. The monster in his features disappeared, leaving only her brother.
“Hello,” he said.
She threw her arms about him. He smelled like a campfire. “I was afraid I set you on fire.”
His hands rested gently on her shoulder. “You did that? How?”
She let go of him and grabbed the book. “With this,” she said, “I can do magic!”
He knelt down next to her. He gave her one of his forced smiles he practiced just for her. He struggled to show his emotions, and they probably weren’t even real, but she didn’t care. She knew he meant it, in his own way. “Where did you get that?”
“It was Aleran’s.”
“Oh.”
“He’s dead.”
Mykel looked around. “And the others? Are they dead?”
“No. I hope not. I lost them when I went back for the book.” Lysa pulled out her pink handkerchief and wiped away the blood from Mykel’s chin. “What did you do? Did you hurt someone?”
“No, only the zombie god.”
“Did you eat him?”
Mykel nodded. She stuck out her tongue. “Yuck.”
She wiped as much of the blood away as she could, though his face remained stained. She would need water to clean him properly.
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s go find the others.”
“I don’t know where they are,” Lysa said, “I’m tired.”
He scooped her up in his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He made her feel weightless as though she were still a little girl, she didn’t feel afraid with him. When he held her, her fears melted away. She only felt truly safe when they were together.
CHAPTER 9
“How could you lose her?” Serina asked. Her eyes narrowed in accusation.
“I didn’t…” Taegar began, but he let the words die. She’d just lost the last of her companions, and she failed to hide her pain behind her glare. Lara watched him from over Serina’s shoulder, covering her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. He chose his next words carefully. “We will find her. She can’t be that far away.”
The lie tasted foul in his mouth. Serina had proven to be a remarkable tracker. She possessed skills of finding the smallest clue, and picked up on things he couldn’t notice. He couldn’t even see the signs when she pointed them out, though he nodded as though he did. He felt so oblivious to what she saw that he began to wonder if he could even tell if a dragon had passed through the area.
He had watched the change in her expression as she lost hope. The girl had doubled back at some point, and she’d been traveling cautiously. Somehow Lysa had thrown Serina off their trail.
He could feel time running out as something tangible. It hung over them like a weight. They had to escape from the Enthelms before the forest killed them. He could hear the breaking and rending of the trees encroaching, and every minute they spent delaying, looking for Lysa, put them in more danger.
But what else could they do? He hoped they found her before Mykel found them. He almost feared the dead man more than the zombie trees. The apathy the man displayed frightened him. He suspected the lack of emotion truly hid something worse, and only the little girl held it in check. If he learned that they had lost his sister… well, he didn’t want to think about it.
Lara put a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. Her look of sympathy contrasted Serina’s harsh accusing stare like a ray of sunshine through dark clouds. “We’ll find her,” she said, “I know we will.” She forced a small smile. Did any of them smile much anymore?
