Mark Sehestedt - Hand of the Hunter

"De-sist!"

Darric turned to see the wizard slap at Valsun's boot, which was nudging his ribs.

"Here," said Mandan, "like this." With one hand he grabbed the wizard's ankle, blankets and all, and lifted, dangling the wizard upside down a good foot or more off the ground.

"Smoking Hells!" Hureleth shrieked as he tried to untangle himself from his blanket and cloak. "Unhand me!"

Mandan set the wizard's head and shoulders gently on the ground, then dropped the rest. "He's awake now."

"Awake and bruised!" said Hureleth. "What is the meaning of-?"

"Quiet," said Darric. "Something's spooked the horses."

The wizard sat up, still clutching his blankets around him. "We are less than a day from the steppe. Probably just wolves."

Mandan lifted his head and inhaled deeply through his nose. "No," he said. "It isn't."

From the edge of the trees where the sentries kept watch came a cry-a scream that ended all too abruptly.

"Ah," said Hureleth. "Perhaps not wolves then."

Darric never saw the arrow before it hit him. A sound of air ripping, then something slammed into his chest. He wore two layers of clothing under his mail, and a tabard and coat on top of it all. The arrow bounced away, but it struck with enough force to knock him back a step.

The wizard stood, reached inside his vest, and when he removed his hand, the orb he held was alight with inner fire. Hureleth thrust his free hand forward. At a word, light churned from his fingers and formed a transparent red wall, slightly curved, in front of them. Three arrows struck it in quick succession, one of them shattering in a cloud of sparks. Two arrows flew over their heads from behind as their own archers returned a volley.

"Fools!" Valsun shouted. "Save your arrows till you see your targets!"

"Allow me," said the wizard. He thrust forth his hand holding the orb and spoke another incantation. Sparks flew out of the orb, spun around the wizard's arm, then shot outward, passing through his shield with a popping hiss like water thrown on hot iron. They struck a tree several yards away, and every branch and needle erupted in flame. It lit their campsite and the canyon for a hundred yards in every direction.

"Idiot," said Mandan. "You've just lit a beacon for anyone within ten miles!"

But Darric didn't think the wizard had even heard. By the light of the burning tree their attackers were clearly visible-long-haired men dressed in skins and leathers, spears and swords in hand. Hureleth laughed as shards of white light, nail-thin but each as long as a knight's lance, shot from the pulsing orb in his fist. When one struck a man, he went down screaming, clothes and skin giving off thick smoke.

After the first few went down, the others realized the danger and took cover behind the trees. A few farther back loosed arrows, but none could penetrate the wizard's shield.

The screaming of men and horses had become such a constant that Darric put them in the back of his mind to concentrate on the attack. And so when the first horse ran past them, his first thought was that the men behind them had organized a charge.

"Stop!" he called out. The trees were too thick to make a mounted charge effective. Then he noticed that the horse was riderless. Turning, he saw that their mounts had broken their picket line and were fleeing in every direction. The horses seemed frightened of the wizard's shield and gave it a wide berth, but Darric saw one of his men run down.

"Let them go!" Valsun shouted, then quieter so only Darric could hear, "No help for it now."

"Back to the trees," said the wizard, though he kept his gaze fixed on the fight. "Shield will not be lasting much longer."

Together the four of them backed toward the cover of the nearest trees. Hureleth held the shield, but even Darric, who had no knowledge of magic, could see its light dimming, and the last arrow to strike it stuck there a moment before falling to the ground.

Darric turned. The light from the wizard's spells and the burning tree painted dark shadows against the cliff. A flash of light as Hureleth cast another shard from his palm, and in the sudden white-brightness Darric saw itA large object falling down the cliff face. Something heavy crashed through the branches of the brush nearest the cliff, and Darric felt his chest tighten. If their attackers had gained the height, they could hurl rocks down on Darric and his company.

"Beware above!" he shouted. "They-"

But his breath caught in his throat. Whatever had fallen from the height and struck with bone-breaking force was standing up. It rose in the shadow cast by a tree, and Darric could see only the outline of its shape-man-sized, but hunched over and swaying as if it was having trouble keeping its feet.

One of Darric's men had been hiding behind the tree. The man charged, blade held high. The two shapes merged. Darric squinted, trying to make out what was hapA strong hand grabbed the collar of Darric's coat and pulled him to the ground behind a tree.

"Watch out, my lord!" came Valsun's voice. "Wizard's shield is gone. He-"

A shriek cut off his words. Men had been screaming since the attack began-taunting the attackers, calling those wounded in the initial attack or by the horses, shouting words of encouragement to Hureleth. This drowned out all that.

As a child, Darric had been playing in the courtyard outside the kitchens when one of the dogs tripped a maid carrying a pot of boiling water. She'd pitched forward, spilling the boiling water all over the dog and down the back of the head cook. The shriek of the cook and the dog was one of the few sounds that had been forever seared into Darric's brain. He'd been no more than four at the time, and for months after he'd woken from a nightmare with that sound echoing down the corridors of the crumbling dream. It embodied everything that surprise and utter, complete, mind-numbing agony ought to sound like. Without a doubt, it had been the most awful sound he'd ever heard. Until now.

Valsun had been holding Darric down, covering his lord with his own body. But he turned away at the sound, and Darric sat up. Together they watched one of their men bound past them, shrieking as he ran.

Make him stop! Darric's mind screamed, and he'd half-opened his mouth to give the words voice when he saw why the man was screaming.

The man's right arm was gone from the elbow down. Blood pulsed from it like a fountain spout, and by the bits of ragged cloth, skin, and muscle Darric saw-in that brief instant, no matter how hard he tried, he could not look away-he knew that no blade had taken the man's arm. It had been torn off.

The horror of that had just sunk in when their campsite was lit by another flash from the wizard's spell. In the harsh white light Darric saw the man's face-or what was left of it. One eye, white and round as the waxed winter moon, stared out from a mass of blood, ravaged skin, and here and there-oh, gods, yes it was true-the ivory glow of bone. His other eye was gone, as was most of his scalp.

"What could have-?" Valsun managed, then they both saw it coming at them.

The thing had the semblance of a man. A Damaran even. It wore the uniform and mail of a Damaran knight, though the cloth was torn and soiled. Its hair was cropped short, like a knight's. But the eyes…

Darric could find nothing human in them. Just a blackness, empty but somehow still alive. It was not the empty of nothingness. More like the void of hunger, of want, of lust. A fire lurked in the very center of those twin black orbs, and Darric knew instinctively that it was not a reflection. Something hot and hungry burned behind those eyes. Some famine that would stop at nothing to feast.

"Behind us!" Darric called, and pushed himself to his feet. Valsun tried to pull him back down, but Darric shrugged him off and called, "Wizard, behind us, damn you! Now! Now!"