Paul Kemp - The Hammer and the Blade

"Something on the side of the road," the driver said, pointing. He was the oldest of the men, his hair going to gray and his body paunchy. "There."

Half the guards readied crossbows, and the others, including Baras and Jyme, drew blades. Nix and Egil came to the front of the wagon train, their own weapons drawn, and saw the thing to which the driver was pointing, a broken form lying just off the side of the road about thirty paces ahead.

"Probably an animal," Baras said, and pointed at his men. "The five of you stay with the wagons. Jyme, you're with me." To Rakon, he said, "My lord, we'll just have a look."

"Be quick," Rakon said.

Egil and Nix fell in beside Baras and Jyme. Nix kept his eyes on the cliffs as they approached, sniffing for an ambush, but none was forthcoming.

"What is that?" Jyme asked as they neared the form.

A body lay on the side of the road, the limbs twisted as if from a fall. Scales the color of sand covered the creature's wiry form, or what remained of its form. Its thin limbs were all sinew and muscle. Each of its five long fingers ended in black claws. The hairless head was a thin oval, vaguely humanlike, and thrown back as if in pain. Fangs filled the overlarge, open mouth. Two vertical slits in the center of its face must have been its nostrils. Many small cuts and bite marks covered the flesh, scores of them. Scavengers had been at the remains. Tatters of dried, leathery skin flapped in the breeze, a drawn curtain revealing ribs and spine.

"It's a demon," Jyme whispered.

Nix could not disagree. He'd never seen anything like it.

"Fell from the top, I'd wager," Egil said, looking up at the valley walls.

Baras looked back at the caravan, at the creature. "Whatever it is, it's dead. We need to keep moving." He waved the wagon and carriage forward.

Eyes lingered on the dead creature's form as they passed. The guards made the protective sign of Orella. Rakon stared at the remains with hooded eyes as his carriage rolled past.

As they traveled, they passed seven more carcasses. All of them were dead many days, perhaps weeks, and appeared broken from a fall. Bites and scratches covered the scaled flesh, and all had been torn open.

The men gave the bodies a wide berth. Twice after passing bodies Baras consulted with Rakon, but he never shared the subject of the conversations with Nix.

The valley seemed neverending and they continued on for hours, walled in by the cliffs, walking an inexplicable thoroughfare littered with the corpses of demons.

The men remained tense and alert, keeping weapons to hand. Nix watched the sky, the tree-fringed top of the cut, the walls, but nothing occurred, and by nightfall the men seemed to have shed much of their nervousness.

"Three more days," Nix said to Egil, as they assisted the guards in setting up camp.

"Hmmph," Egil grunted, hammering tent stakes into the red earth.

"What?" Nix asked.

"Notice the sun?" Egil said.

"That blazing orange circle in the sky? It's called the sun? I hadn't noticed it before."

Egil didn't smile. "I mean did you notice its position."

"We're surrounded by rock walls and it's cloudy. How would I notice its position?"

Egil nodded. "You didn't pay attention. In any event, we're not headed due east anymore."

"What? Shite. What direction are we headed? Are we lost?"

Egil looked Nix in the face. "We're headed northeast. Rakon seem lost to you?"

He didn't. "Maybe he just wants to stick on the road. Keep the wagons and carriage as long as possible before de-yoking the horses."

"Maybe," Egil said.

"You doubt it?"

"I trust nothing about him," the priest said. "I think he aims for something other than a direct route to Afirion's deserts. But why, I can't say. And I think he knows more about those bodies we saw than he's telling. Did you see his face when we passed them?"

Nix considered, and made up his mind. "Then let's see what we can see." He hustled over to Baras's side.

"What is it, Nix?" The guardsman wiped his brow of sweat.

Nix kept his voice low. "Afirion is due east and we're not headed due east. Why?"

Baras's expression twisted up as he tried to find a suitable lie.

"The truth, Baras."

"The Lord Adjunct knows we're not headed due east. He wants to stay on the road."

"Why? We could lose the wagons, divide the supplies between the men and horses, and head east overland."

"I just follow orders, Nix."

Nix looked to the carriage. "He's looking for something in the Wastes, isn't he? What is it?"

If he had an answer, Baras didn't offer it.

"You're in deep water here, yeah?" Nix asked.

"I do what I'm told. You do the same."

Nix rubbed his nose. "That doesn't work well for me as a philosophical matter."

"Make it work," Baras said. "Meals in a half-hour."

With that, he walked away. As always, they started a meager fire, just large enough to heat coffee and warm bodies. Rakon repeated his warning to them to keep the flames low, but he needn't have. The bodies they'd seen on the road had taught all of them caution.

They ate as night came on. Afterward, Baras set double watches and the men sat near the fire and speculated about the bodies they'd seen. Egil went to his prayers early and Nix lingered near the flames, fearing sleep and dreams. He waited for the eunuch to remove Rusilla and Merelda to their tents, but he never did. The sisters remained in the carriage, as did Rakon. Nix recalled the small vial he'd seen in Rakon's hands when he'd broken into the carriage. At the time he'd assumed it was medicine, but now thought otherwise. He suspected it was a drug, designed to keep the sisters from practicing their witchcraft, or mindmagery, or whatever it was they did. Perhaps that explained why he hadn't had an ache behind his eyes or a head full of foreign thoughts. For that, he was thankful.

Expecting a peaceful sleep, he dozed off near the fire. The dreams came anyway.

Once more, Nix found himself standing in the long hall. Doors lined the hall, hiding horrors. The large, respiring door was directly before him. Again he wore a tattered dress with a torn bodice.

Grunts and screams filled his ears. The handle on the respiring door started to turn and he lunged for it, grabbed the handle. He was sweating and his hands slipped. The door unlatched, opened a crack. He screamed in terror, slammed his shoulder into it to close it, and took the latch in both hands. A terrible force tried to wrench it into a turn.

"No, no!" he said, his voice fearful and high-pitched.

An impact against the other side of the door nearly dislodged him, but he held on. The door pulsed against him, sickening and warm.

"Go away!" he screamed. "Leave me alone."

More screams from behind the other doors in the hallway, more grunting, a desperate wail. He could smell the coppery stink of fresh blood, imagined it flowing under the doors and into the hall. He was shaking, unnerved, surrounded by horror.

"Let me in!" said a voice from the other side, a woman's voice, intense, insistent. "You must see!"

"I don't want to see!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!"

Another powerful thud against the pulsing door. He leaned against it and held it closed.

"See it this way, then," said the woman's voice, her tone as final as a dirge.

A piercing pain in his groin, as if he'd been stabbed, elicited a prolonged scream and doubled him over. He looked down to see blood pouring from between his legs, soaking his dress, pattering the floor in a flood of crimson.

He shrieked in sickened horror and the sound of his own fear startled him awake.

Wakefulness did not end the shrieking.

He opened his eyes to see a cloud of keening creatures descending toward the campsite like a thunderhead, blotting out moons and stars. It was the flock of creatures they'd seen the day before, dropping on the camp in a cloud of fangs, scales, and beating wings. He could not easily distinguish individual creatures among the multitude.