Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (38 page)

The people of the County of Trism were bewildered. The news of Velent’s destruction had stunned them. They gathered in the town squares, taverns, and inns, wanting to know more, to find out it was not true, to learn they were safe, and Velent alone was threatened. A mass of people congregated in the massive square in front of the city hall.

Count Trism was present, with High Lord Father Alixin of the Church of Jonath. They calmed the crowd, saying that the news was exaggerated and Trism was safe. Even if such a threat did exist, even if it did come this way, they were prepared for it, and would deal with it quickly and efficiently. They were still making speeches when the first swarm hit.

The temperature crept up and the weather changed from snow to a light rain. Yearl Marshlord rallied the people, calling for them to hold their places and defend as one. They ignored his pleas, and in a panic, pushed past him, knocking him aside as they rushed to get into the solid stone building that housed the government.  Clouds of minuscule biting gnats swarmed the crowd. As they descended on the people, they left barely perceivable traces of digestive acid wherever they bit. A woman was bit, and it left a red mark. Another bite left a small dimple. As thousands bit her, her skin became a pitted, burning landscape in a matter of moments. She slapped and crushed the bugs, but it did nothing more than release extra acid from the insects onto her skin.

The press of people jostled the Count was heaved off the stairs. He fell to the wet ground under the great statues that bracketed the marble steps. Relieved to be out of the throng of maddened people, he looked around for his guards. He spotted them, as they fell victim to the black clouds of insects with the people that had shoved him from the place where they now died by the dozens. He saw the Lord High Father calling upon the power of Jonath, bringing protection from the insects for the mass of panicked townsfolk. He saw the priest’s silver aura glisten in the falling rain as the he called upon the powers of the earth to destroy the invaders and save his flock.

The attack intensified. Mosquitoes the size of squirrels flew into the crowd. These monsters were unaffected by the spells of the priest. Alixin called upon the power of his god once again. His prayers were ignored. Instead, all he received was the attention of the new wave of pestilence. The blood-sucking insects had already fed on dozens people outside the building, and now turned their bloated hunger towards the being that slowed their feeding with his magic. The priest called upon Jonath again, screaming for the god to protect his most valuable priest, to save the one man who could allow the church to survive.

The result was astounding. A flash of light shook the square, magic shot upward and out from the priest, and died without a sound. The church of Jonath that stood across the way began to tremble and the keystone fell from the overhead archway that led into the temple. The god had spoken; as the magic faded from the cleric, the church collapsed, and dust rose into the sky.

The Count stared in horror as the priest turned and began throwing people out of his way, forcing his way into the safe haven offered by the building. He rose up to tell the Lord Father to stop, and to help the people. As Marshlord stood, the ground opened up, and hard-shelled black beetles swarmed over him.

Fog formed and rose from the cold cobblestones of the streets as the warmer water fell. From the murky haze, came more bugs. Rising from the sewers and crawling out of rotted wood throughout the city, they came. Silverfish longer than a man’s arm swarmed across plazas, snapping at people with their thin mandibles. Cockroaches the size of cats flew from rooftops and landed on people’s heads and backs, biting and chewing, their rancid stench surrounding them as hundreds covered a city block.

The mutated insects of the Talisman arrived next. Long thin flying insects that radiated heat and crackled with energy flew overhead, alighting on buildings. They pressed their abdomens to the wooden shingles and the thatch of roofs. Steam rose, and the wood and straw dried smoldered then ignited. The wind fanned the flames as another horror slithered across the cobbles. Centipede-like creatures that glistened black in the fire’s glow glided by, leaving a slick trail of what appeared to be mucus. Anyone who crossed the path of one was attacked. The beast would wind its way up their body, a thousand tickling legs clinging to flesh. Then it would sink its cruel barbed maxilla into softer tissue of its victim’s throat and neck.

The sparks from the flames on the rooftops rained down on the slick trails left by the giant centipedes, igniting them. The rain flowed through the gutters, carrying the gelled flaming liquid to alleys where trash lay. Soon the city was ablaze. The guards who were trying to fight the insect invasion now were needed to man bucket brigades to douse the growing inferno. Townsfolk abandoned their homes, carrying children and their most prized possessions, only to be brought down by the man-eating insects.

It was into this chaos that a rider from the east rode, to deliver his news of the approaching undead army that had claimed the Earldom of General the day before.  The city would have to face two armies that could not be routed or demoralized. Two behemoths of unstoppable death were about to meet.

The undead horde shuffled into the city on cats’ feet. Silent in the moist night air, their fetid stench announced their arrival. The zombies trundled through the streets, dragging down anything that was warm blooded and moving. Swift predatory shapes leapt from rooftop to rooftop and slid down darkened alleys, pulling out humans who tried to hide and devoured them, ripping into flesh to satiate their unquenchable hunger, and savoring their victim’s struggles. Their appetite never ended, but they only ate until their prey no longer moved. They preferred a warm meal, and death only brought cold.

Rondarius’s generals moved through the crowds, picking and choosing their victims from the strongest. The hero who stood in the mouth of an alley with a line of archers behind him soon fell, as Omega took possession of an archer behind him and fired arrows into his back. The Wizard who burned the undead and insect armies with flames turned to find the cold lips of Choulidiat waiting to drain his very soul. Lord Emite swept through the city with his three progeny as shadows that rose up to kill, feeding as they went.

The necromancer sat just outside the city, finding the dead inside of it that had the seed of magic and raising them to join his army. He cackled from his divan, then screamed and beat at Vicktor, “You filthy dog eater! Why does it always rain when I destroy a civilization?” He immediately began laughing again and sent forth the command to his legions to save the pretty girls for him. Winter was the time for warm bodies to share his bed, not cold ones.

Hue met a group of mounted, armed, and armored men at the edge of the city. The commander was preparing them to charge into the city and fight the monstrosities that had arrived.  The officer saw Blueaxe, and nodded in recognition.

“We are yours to command, my lord,” the captain said. “Shall we form ranks and enter the city?”

“No, my friend,” Hue said, hanging his head in sadness, “we have a greater duty today. We ride north and west. We gather all the men we can, tell people to abandon their homes, cities, keeps, and castles. There is no stopping what’s happening. We would all just die in the attempt. We will bring what people we can into the frozen north, and try to survive. We will entreat the barbarian chieftains to join us, or at least shelter us through the winter. The dead and insects won’t be able to survive in the cold tundra during winter, and we will have months to gather our forces and plan our return. This land is lost though, and I grieve to say it.”

The two score of knights and soldiers looked stricken at the news, but the grim faced commander, a man of many battles, nodded in understanding. Issuing sharp orders, the captain lined his men up in ranks of four and spoke to them, explaining the chain of command. Hue Blueaxe was their general until this war was past; Lord Jaeken of the resistance and his compatriot, Grenedal Dragonblood, commanded this. They would ride swift and through the night, sending five men to each city or castle they passed to gather more troops and civilians. Sometimes a hero had to run, and live so they may fight another day. This would be the hardest battle they ever faced, the one they had to run from. It would be harder for good soldiers to live than to die.

They rode into the misting rain. Time slowed, the road and minutes counted by their horses’ hoof beats. The men sweated in the chill night air, and their horses lathered as they ran, not just for their own lives, but the lives of the north. Hue ran beside them, easily keeping pace on foot with their mounts. He didn’t sweat or even breathe hard from the exertion.

The screech of a predator tore the night, and a man was torn from his horse by a dark shape that swooped down. Hue’s axe was in his hand as he turned and leapt over the mounted troops heads. His axe connected with something, and a wet thud sounded as two bodies hit the ground.

“Keep riding!” Hue yelled, as the men began to turn their steeds. “I will catch up, but don’t stop whatever you see or hear. If you stop, thousands will die because of it!”

The soldiers obeyed the command, righting themselves and their course, and disappeared into the light snow that had replaced the misting rain. The three-quarter moon showed through the clouds, a milky disc behind swirling clouds. Hue looked at the two forms on the ground in front of him. The soldier lay twisted in a puddle of slush, and a second form rose to confront Blueaxe. Baring its pointed canines, the dark creature leapt towards Hue. With a swing of the axe, the monster’s head flew from its shoulders, a look of surprise on its face. Hue squared off his stance, and waited for anyone else that may be following.

Two more forms appeared a moment before striking the large man, tearing at him with clawed hands and trying to sink their teeth into his neck and shoulders. Hue tumbled across the ground, axe flying from his grip. Rolling head over heels, Hue gained his feet, grabbing one of the creatures in each hand and pulling them to an arm’s length. One bit into Hue’s forearm, and a stream of bluish light burst forth from the wound, burning the monster’s face and melting its features. Hue bashed at the attacker with the body of his other foe, and heard the neck of the second assailant snap.

Dropping the second one, he reached out and tore the head from the first. Black liquid gushed out of the neck of the limp form that remained, covering Hue with a slimy liquid that burned his skin. Before he had time to do more than drop the broken form of his enemy, he was set upon by his remaining adversary.

The monster’s head lolled to one side, bouncing as it tried to claw at Hue’s eyes and throat. Hue snapped his elbow back, connecting with the face that limply hung from the neck, tearing the skin with his powerful blow. Grabbing the creature of the night by an arm and keeping it at arm’s length, Hue dragged the gnashing beast towards where his axe had fallen. Snatching up his weapon, the blue-skinned man finished off his foe, its head making a wet noise as it rolled across the ground.

“You have taken out my apprentices,” a deep, calm voice said in the dark, “but they were pups. I am the master, and I do not think you will fare as well with me.”

“I don’t fear you, any more than I feared your filthy offspring.” Hue answered, standing straight and focusing on the dark where the voice seemed to come from.

“Then, though brave, you are a fool.”

The snow fell heavier and stuck to Hue like ash. It smelled of fetid rot, and the clouds had taken on a green tint overhead. Something clicked repeatedly outside of Hue’s range of sight.

“Join me now,” said the voice, “and you can be a man of power in a new order. You can command thousands and live in luxury for the rest of your days. Women will throw themselves at you and men will worship you.”

“You offer me this because you fear me,” Hue relied, gripping his axe with both hands, ready to defend himself. “You saw what I am, and what happened to your children. Come now, let’s finish this. Your final death awaits you.”

“Shame, but only one death awaits, and it is yours.”

The darkness split as dozens of crawling forms clicked forward on the cobblestone highway. Centipedes as long as a man is tall writhed towards Hue, their mandibles clicking along with their hundreds of feet. The first to get close rose up, its segmented body supported by dozens of legs. Hue cut it in half, and a half dozen of the monsters swarmed their dying companion, tearing chunks from its armored body. The rest swarmed towards Hue. The man swung with precision, slicing through three before the others could wrap themselves around his body.

Curling themselves around his legs and crawling up his body, their pincers sliced into him. Dark blood welled from a dozen wounds as Hue fell underneath them. His axe did him no good this close, and he dropped it and began tearing into their armored forms. Heads flew, legs were ripped from their bodies, and ichor coated the man and the ground around him. Hue struggled to his feet, fighting his way from under the press of insects almost as large as him. Kicking and punching, he crushed the bugs as they ripped at his flesh.

A dark form flew past him and he was tossed a dozen feet away. The remaining centipedes crawled towards him, clicking as they did. The mist moved around him, thickening until he couldn’t breathe. Blows rained down from his unseen assailant as the bugs once again began slicing into his legs.

Hue’s head swam and his vision blurred as the shadow form pummeled him and the monsters slipped their venom into his wounds. Acid from their ichor etched his skin, blistering and bubbling along his body. He stumbled under the onslaught. Falling to one knee, he gasped in the thick air, trying to gain a breath.