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"Look at 'em squirm!" Delsin exclaimed with glee. "Aww, let 'em alone." his sister murmured weakly, making a face that clearly showed how bored she was. "Yeah, let 'em be." Emicos said firmly. "There's better things to do than smush ants." "But bugs are neat." Emicos' younger brother insisted, jamming his stick deeper into the anthill and swishing it around. Ants boiled from the ruined mound in panic, and Delsin cackled in amusement. Emicos shook his head with a sigh, and turned to walk away. "What a kid." he muttered quietly, wondering when it would be time for lunch. He was getting hungry, and mother usually had something ready to eat around now... "Hey, I got an idea!" Delsin proclaimed, tossing his stick aside and stepping up to Emicos. "More bugs?" Emicos wondered, not liking the shifty gleam in his brother's eye. It was the look that Delsin got when he thought he was being smart, and making someone else look dumb. "Last one home's Horror-Marked!" Delsin suddenly yelled, shoving Emicos back with all his might. Then the youngster spun about, and raced away across the village. "Not me! Not me!" Ghita laughed, leaping off in pursuit. It took Emicos only a few moments to regain his balance after Delsin's shove. Then he sprang after his brother and sister with all the swiftness his wiry frame possessed. He wasn't about to be last. Not if there was anything he could do about it. He caught up with Ghita in almost no time at all, and together their long strides ate up the distance between them and Delsin; even as home loomed closer and closer before them. They scampered past small clusters of adults, who ignored them as they crossed the village square. Emicos briefly wondered why they called it a square, when the area was actually round. Then he turned his mind back to his younger brother. Delsin had never been a good runner, he thought with growing satisfaction. The only way he ever won was when he had a big head start. But today his head start wasn't big enough. Only a few more feet, Emicos thought confidently, and I'll have him. Even Lise came barking up alongside him, cheering him on with her wagging tail and strident yapping. He was going to win, and nothing could stop him now. Then he felt his feet cut out from under him, and he went sprawling in a jumble of arms and legs. Emicos couldn't restrain the surprised yell that tore from his throat, and as he somersaulted helplessly in the dirt, he saw the grinning face of his sister between the flashes of earth and sky that rolled before his eyes. She tripped me! He realized with sudden anger. That...That...Girl! He slowly rolled to a halt, as Lise jumped and yipped all over him, obviously enjoying every moment of his defeat. Her long tongue slobbered over his face, and Emicos reflexively shut his eyes and closed his mouth until the hound was finished. When he finally looked up, he saw Delsin and Ghita standing on the front porch, snickering and pointing their fingers at him. Lise barked happily. "Emicos is Horror-Marked! Emicos is Horror-Marked!" his siblings laughed as he climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. "You lose!" "Yeah," he shot back, sticking up his middle finger at them, like he had seen his father do to the burgher when he had thought no one was looking. "Well mark this!" Then his mother's silhouette filled the doorway behind Delsin and Ghita, and Emicos quickly moved his offensive hand to his head, and pretended to be brushing his hair. Not that he had much to brush with it being short and curly, but desperate times called for desperate measures, as he had once heard his father say. "Lunch is ready." she said to all of them, apparently missing Emicos' gesture. Delsin and Ghita giggled to themselves, and disappeared into the house. His mother paused to look him over a moment, then frowned as she held the door open for him. "Don't you forget to wash up before eating young man." she reminded him sternly. "Remember, we aren't orks in this house." "Yes mother." Emicos mumbled as he slid through the door, underneath his mother's outstretched arm. Just for once he wished he was an ork. He bet they could eat without scrubbing their hands and faces with soap first. In a few moments he was on the back porch, where his brother and sister were already washing their hands in the basin. He shoved his way between them, not having forgotten being tripped so quickly. In fact, now that he thought about it, he bet they both planned it that way from the beginning. "Poor loser." Ghita muttered as she soaped her hands into a thick lather. "I'll get you both next time." Emicos threatened. "When you least expect it." "Oh, and when have we heard that before?" Delsin teased. "Just you wait." he said ominously, and soaped his hands. "When you least expect it..." "That's what you said last time." Ghita reminded him. "Well this time is gonna be different," he insisted, rinsing off his hands and then soaking his face. "Mark my words." Delsin and Ghita stepped away to dry off, and Emicos finished washing up in silence, trying to think of some way he could get even. But like always, nothing came to mind. He knew he would probably forget the entire thing before lunch was over. Well not this time, he vowed. Just because they were younger didn't mean he had to go soft on them. Time they got what they had coming. He walked back into the kitchen when he was finished, and found his brother and sister already sitting at the table, which his mother was piling high with food. A moment later his father walked in from the living room, smiling at everyone and stroking his beard. Suddenly Emicos had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. Everyone stopped to look at him, their faces erupting into masks of shock and horror. A cool breeze wafted past his ear, and a dark blur seemed to flash out from somewhere behind him. The blur was quick as lightning, and Emicos barely had time to see it stroke his father's ribs. Then the blur was gone, and a huge gout of blood erupted from his father's chest, where it had touched him. For a moment his bearded face stared down at the red geyser with a look of amazement. Then he collapsed with a splatter of crimson, and lay still on the kitchen floor. The room was silent for a long moment. In that time Emicos realized that his father was dead. This was no joke, and certainly not a fainting spell, like he had been told some people suffered from. When a big hole appeared in your chest and a gallon of blood poured out, you were dead. Forever. No sticking your finger up at the mayor, or anyone else, ever again. His father was dead and gone. Then the screaming started. Everyone in the room began wailing and hollering at once. Even Lise jumped up and started barking like mad. Barking at him. Emicos wondered why they were all staring at him too. Even more than that, he wondered why a hole had just appeared in his father's chest and struck him dead. Things like that didn't just happen by themselves. Even as close as they lived to the Badlands. Then another puff of air blew past his face, and he saw that same weird blur snap out from behind him. With a great whip-crack it lashed across his mother's neck, and her head went flying off her shoulders. It bounced along the table, scattered the biscuits like ten-pins, and finally came to rest in Ghita's upflung hands. There was more blood, this time in a spurting fountain from his mother's headless body; which crumpled to the floor next to his father. Ghita stared down at her mother's disembodied head with absolute terror. For a moment she was too paralyzed with fear to make a sound. Then she flung the head away with a fresh chorus of screams, and fled the room. Delsin followed, moving faster then Emicos had ever seen in his life. Leaving him alone with his two dead parents. No. Not alone. He realized. There was something else in the room with him. Something right behind him! Now he could hear the floor creaking under its weight, only a few inches from his back. Emicos felt his skin crawl, like it wanted to rip from his bones and fly from the room in a panic. A voice somewhere deep inside of him screamed to run. To run and run and never look back. But somehow his feet wouldn't move, as if they had been nailed to the floor. So instead, he turned his head to look at whatever it was. Emicos knew he really didn't want to see what was back there, but he had to do something, anything, not just stand there. If he couldn't run, he might as well see what had killed his mother and father, and would probably kill him too. He felt something big moving past him, even as he twisted his head around. A vision of razored whips swam before his eyes. Then the monster brushed his shoulder. Its touch felt like old leather crawling with maggots, cold and rough and oozing and gut-wrenching. A stench gagged his nose, and Emicos knew it must have been what an open grave smelled like. Then it was gone, leaving Emicos shaking and alone in the room. He stared down at the look of amazement that crested his father's dead features, and thought of the creature's touch. Cold and crawly. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the floor, puking his guts out on top of his parent's corpses. The vomit came from his belly in huge gouts, not unlike the blood that had erupted from his father's chest. That thought brought more puking, and Emicos fought to breathe as he shook, and coughed, and vomited on the smelly, sticky floor. Emicos wasn't sure how long he threw up. However quick it may have been, he knew that it wasn't quick enough. He knew the monster was still around somewhere. He had to get away. Run while he still could. Otherwise he would end up like his parents. Dead and gone. He climbed to his feet, and paused a moment to stare down at the blood and puke that stained his shirt and breeches. He felt icky and slimy all over, and had the sudden urge to pull off his clothes and burn them. He overrode that impulse, for now, and turned to the back door. He reached it in a second, and from somewhere further away in the house he heard a dog barking. Tough luck Lise, he thought with rising panic, you're monster-food now. He certainly wasn't going to try to save her. That was the direction the creature had went. He was going the other way, and not about to stop for anything. He had the door halfway open and one foot outside when he heard it. Not in the house behind him, but outside, in front of him! He stopped as if he had run into a stone wall, and peeked his head out the door, even as he jerked his foot back inside. It was coming around the corner, shambling all hunched over and dragging something red and torn up behind it. Something that looked vaguely like his brother. Emicos jerked his head back inside and shut the door. Outside, he heard it stop all of a sudden, and Emicos could imagine the thing turning its head to the door-if it even had a head-and listening carefully. No! He thought with ever rising panic. It heard me! He never should have shut the door! Never, never, never! It heard that. Now it would come back inside and kill him and eat him. Maybe not even in that order. He was dead, like his mother and father, and brother too. Dead. He heard Lise, still barking somewhere further away in the house; and he heard the creature start to move, slowly, toward the back door. Toward him. Lise, he thought, I'm coming to save you. He turned and ran into the living room, heading straight for the front door. He stopped short when he saw what hung from the knob. Ghita, all ripped into bloody strips. He guessed that she must have some kind of big hole in her back, to be hanging off the doorknob like she was. But he only wondered briefly, and skidded into a sharp turn for the bedrooms. He supposed he could still have gotten out the door, but something about the way his sister hung there made that seem like a bad idea, even with the monster somewhere behind him. Out of habit, he ducked into the open doorway to the room he shared with his brother and sister. Emicos saw Lise standing in the middle of the room as he raced inside. She barked once as he came barreling in, then fell silent as he deftly slid feet first under his bed. Just like he had done a hundred times before when playing hide-and-seek. Reaching out from his hiding place, he grabbed Lise, and dragged the hound under the bed with him. Holding her close, Emicos willed her to not make a sound as he stared fearfully toward the open doorway to the living room. Somehow it worked, and the usually noisy dog was silent and still in his arms. Maybe it was his force of will that did it. Maybe she just knew better. Whatever it was, Emicos was glad, because he could hear the creature moving into the house. The faint sound of the back door opening and closing seemed loud as thunder to Emicos' ears. He didn't hear the thing's footfalls so much as the floor creaking beneath its weight. Creaking as it drew closer and closer. First in the kitchen, then the living room, and finally coming toward the bedrooms. He could only see a tiny slice of the other room from his position under the bed, so it wasn't until the monster came up to the doorway that Emicos saw it, really saw it, for the first time. It stood like a man, and even though it was hunched over, it filled up the doorway, and then some. It was entirely made up of long, flattened tendrils, like ribbons, all twisted and wrapped up around themselves. Some looked hard and rigid, like bones, while others looked supple, like leather. All had edges that looked so sharp that just staring at them made his eyes want to bleed. It might have had a head, but Emicos really couldn't tell. It did seem to have something like arms and legs, and one of those appendages dragged the bloody mess that used to be his brother. It went to his parents bedroom first, and stepped out of Emicos' view. The creature moved that is, but not Delsin, who lay on the floor with a ropy mass of razor-ribbons stuck through his body. His brother was a wreck, and the only eyeball he had left stared blankly up at the ceiling. Emicos didn't want to look at that, and closed his own eyes as he scrunched further back under his bed. He heard it step into his parents room, and listened to the low, slithering noise of Delsin's body, now beginning to slide across the floor behind it. He should jump up now, he thought, and run for the door. While it's too busy in the other room. But Emicos didn't. He just lay there in the shadows beneath the bed, hugged Lise closer to him, and wished he was somewhere else. It only spent a few short moments in his parents room. Then it came back out, and loomed in the doorway to the children's room. His room. Emicos could see it's feet standing there, facing him, with Delsin's corpse laying behind it. It seemed to pause for a lifetime in that doorway, then it stepped into the room, heading straight for his hiding place. Emicos went cold, as if he was frozen inside and out, and he was sure that his heart had stopped beating. Then the sound of shouting came from outside. The monster must have heard too, because it came to a halt only inches away from his bed, and turned to the window that looked out to the front of the house. It stood there, and Emicos could imagine it staring out the window, toward the voices that grew louder and louder outside. He wondered what it saw out there, and looked past its ankles to Delsin's corpse. Delsin's one good eye stared at Emicos, and Emicos stared back. He could almost hear his brother's voice whispering through his mind. "Emicos
is Horror-Marked!"
Then the creature-The Horror,
Emicos finally realized-turned and walked out of the room, still dragging
Delsin with it. Emicos heard it's footsteps go to the front door, open
it, and creak across the front porch. The yelling outside was loud enough
that he could make out some words now, all in frightened, hurried voices.
"-killed them all!" "The boy!" "-Passions help us!" "-is
it?"
"-come
out of the Badlands."
"-ords
and bows, quick!"
Then
the voices outside turned to screams. High-pitched, girlish sounds, that
Emicos knew were being made by grown men. He imagined he heard more of
the whip-crack sounds too, like the one before his mother's head
had gone flying. But he couldn't be sure of that.
The screaming went on and on. It just
didn't ever seem to stop. After a while, Emicos was starting to wonder
what was taking so long. Why didn't they just get it over with, and die
already? Or was the Horror getting slow? It had sure been quick enough
when it killed his parents, not to mention his brother and sister.
He lay under the bed and listened to the villagers screaming outside, and he eventually realized that it was just one man screaming. At least just one man screaming at a time. In the background, between ragged screeches, Emicos could hear low groans, and harsh prayers. Then the victim would get his breath, scream again, and eventually pause for air once more. From time to time the pitch and direction of the screaming would change. As the Horror picked a new victim, Emicos imagined. He shivered in his slimly clothes, feeling his throat burning, and tasting bile in his mouth. But that was better than what the people outside were getting, he thought with relief. Better by far. Time dragged by, and the screaming went on and on. Eventually Emicos gathered to courage to crawl out from under the bed to take a look. Just one quick peek, he told himself, then he would race back under the bed again. Creeping to the window, he glanced back at the bed behind him. Only a few steps away, he thought. Just two seconds, and he could be safe under the bed again. Just two seconds, that was all. Head just under the window pane, he listened carefully, to make sure the Horror was really out there, and not in here. From the way the screaming went on and on, it had to still be outside. He hoped. He spared a look to the doorway just to make sure. But there was nothing there except the wide blood stains where it had dragged Delsin into and out of the room. He turned his face back to the window, and slowly lifted his head enough to peek outside. The village square (which Emicos reminded himself was actually round) looked like the inside of the butcher shop. Bodies lay strewn all over, and Emicos thought there had to be at least a dozen men laying there, bleeding in the dust. Like his brother, they were all slashed to ribbons, missing arms, legs, and innards. Some of them hadn't even died yet. Standing over one wretch was the Horror. Emicos watched as the man tried to crawl away with the one arm he had left. The Horror watched him too, and let him get nearly a dozen paces away before snapping out a tendril. The flat tentacle cut into the flesh of the villager's ankle with ease, and its tip poked out the other side like a fishhook. Then the Horror began to slowly pull the one-armed man back, even as he tried to crawl away in a frenzy of motion. The monster took its time pulling the man closer, and his screams rose in fervor as he drew nearer. Emicos kept watching, until at last the Horror had dragged him all the way back, leaving a wide swath of bloody dirt behind him. Then Emicos had to look away, as the Horror bent down and began to dig into the man's guts. He still kept on screaming. For a long time. It wasn't until Emicos heard the sound of hoofbeats that he lifted his head back up to the window. Three men on horses raced away, further down the street. Emicos couldn't see them well enough to tell who they were, but he recognized the big white horse that one of them rode. That one belonged to the blacksmith. But the blacksmith was lying in the street without any arms or legs, so Emicos guessed that someone else was riding his horse. The Horror seemed to just vanish as Emicos looked down the street. A moment later the shrill cries of horses and men came to the boy's ears. Emicos was getting used to that sound now. It was the sound of the Horror chopping people up. Long minutes passed until the razor-monster came walking back down the street, dragging what used to be three villagers with it. It stopped in the middle of the square, and seemed to look around at all of the houses clustered about the small clearing. For a moment of heart-freezing terror, Emicos was sure that the creature was staring right into his eyes. But before he could duck out of sight, or even scream, the monster turned his gaze to the next building. Then it lifted one of the bloody rag-dolls by a single tendril. Hoisting the corpse far over its head, the monster began to swing the body around in a circle. Faster and faster it spun, until it finally let go, and sent the corpse lofting so far out of sight, that Emicos knew it must not have hit earth until far away from the village indeed. The other two bodies followed the first, and Emicos couldn't help but to think that at least they got out of the village, like they must have wanted. Then
it went back to the men who were still alive in the town square. Emicos
had seen that before, so when the screams began again, he ducked from the
window, and crawled back under the bed with Lise. This time he took his
pillow with him, and wrapped the padded cloth around his head to muffle
the sound of the people in the square.
It didn't
help much.
Eventually he stopped trying to get his mind off of it. It must be normal to think about death when everyone around you was dying, he reasoned. He wondered how long it would take when the Horror finally got around to killing him. He knew it would be painful, and probably longer than he would like. He thought about dying, and all the ways there were to die. Burning, drowning, old age, being run through with a sword, or falling from an airship and going splat on the ground miles below. He decided that the Horror had to be the worst way of all. Torture came close, but that was what the monster did anyway, and it was a lot more scary than even the meanest-looking ork scorcher or Theran slaver ever born, both of whom Emicos imagined tortured people on a regular basis. By the time it started to get dark, Emicos was getting tired of thinking about dying. He was also getting hungry. He didn't feel like eating Lise, even though his father always joked that one of the best reasons for having a dog was so if there was ever a famine, you could eat it for dinner. But getting food meant he would have to leave the relative safety of the bed, and venture out into the house. He wasn't sure he wanted to do that. Emicos thought about it for a long time, while his stomach growled more and more insistently. The Horror was out there, he knew. But he also knew that it could walk into his bedroom any time it wanted; and hiding under the bed probably wouldn't do him much good if it really wanted to find him. It had already seen him watching through the window when it threw those dead bodies out of the village. Besides that, it had walked right by him after it killed his mother and father, it had to know he was in the house. Which reminded him of when it brushed against him, as it walked past him in the kitchen. The strange, icky, leathery feel came back to him, and Emicos shuddered with the memory. He tried not to think about maggots swarming along ribbons of razor-edged flesh, or the rotting-meat stink of the thing. He tried hard, but it didn't work very well. So he lay there shivering in the dark, his clothes sticky and gooey with half-dried blood and puke, and he thought about what it felt like to touch a Horror. To touch a Horror, and be touched by a Horror. Hours passed, and eventually his hunger won out over his fear and revulsion. The screaming in the town square had stopped a long time ago, so Emicos knew the Horror was probably not busy any more, and was probably bored too. He knew that wasn't good, but he was hungry, and not about to wait until the monster found another hapless victim before he went and found something to eat. So he crept from his hiding place as silently as he could. He knew that he was stealthy enough to fool his family, but he wasn't sure if he could fool a Horror. Being able to hide from his family didn't seem like much, not when they themselves had been killed by what he wanted to hide from. So it was with great care that he tip-toed out to the doorway, cradling Lise in his arms, and poked his head out into the living room. He could see reasonably well in the dark. The moonlight that filtered in through the windows gave him plenty of light to see by. More than enough for him to make out the dark lump of his sister, still hanging from the doorknob. He didn't see any trace of the Horror at all. Taking that as a good sign, Emicos slowly walked into the room, being sure to avoid the floorboards that he knew would creak. Years of playing hide-and-seek in the house made that part easy, and it was literally child's play for him to creep into the kitchen without making a sound. The light in there was murky, but again, good enough for him to see by. Things hadn't changed much in here. His parents still lay dead on the floor, and lunch was still set out on the table, with the biscuits and fruit scattered all over both the table and floor. The only thing new were the flies buzzing around. But flies didn't bother Emicos much anymore, and when he looked at the apples and biscuits he couldn't help but to lick his lips. Lise had much the same reaction, and Emicos felt her stir in his arms for the first time in hours. The dog perked up at the sight-and Emicos imagined the smell-of food. For a moment he was afraid that she was going to jump from his arms. Then Emicos heard the floor creak in the living room, and didn't pay so much attention to the dog anymore. He dropped to the floor as silently as he could, and rolled under the kitchen table. He heard the approaching creaks of Horror-footsteps as he settled into the shadows. It was almost at the kitchen doorway, he knew. Only a few more steps and it would be inside the room. With him. Then he realized that it really wasn't very dark in the room. Unless the Horror was blind as a bat, it would see him under the table. He had a feeling that Horrors weren't blind as bats though. In fact, he bet they could see very well, even if they didn't have any eyes. He knew he had to find a better hiding place, fast. As his panicky gaze shot around the room, an idea came to him. He didn't stop to think if it was a very good idea or not. Instead he just went with it. As quickly and quietly as he could, he slid out face first on the floor. Snuggling next to the bodies of his mother and father, he pressed as tightly as he could against their cooling flesh, and lay as still as possible. Lise made a tiny yelp as his weight settled on top of her. Emicos lifted his body just enough to avoid crushing her, acting solely out of reflex. Then he froze, thinking about the noise, and the Horror only a few steps away. His bones turned to ice, and it took a conscious effort to avoid shivering. He felt Lise begin to gather herself to leap from his arms, and clamped down hard on the dog, holding her fast. He thanked the Passions that she didn't make another sound. But he was sure that it was already too late to matter. The creaking footsteps came into the room, and Emicos stared into the floorboards in front of his eyes, hoping that somehow the Horror wouldn't notice that there was one extra body laying on the floor Hoping that by some miracle of fate it hadn't heard Lise's yelp. Hoping that he wouldn't scream as long as the men in the town square. The footsteps came to a halt only inches from his face, and Emicos barely resisted the urge to look up. Why not? He wondered. It can see me anyway, why not look at it before it killed him? As it was, he could see the dark lumps of its feet out of the corner of his eye. Just a hair's breadth away. One more step, and it would have trampled him beneath those razor-edged toes. It was so close that its rotting stench clogged his nostrils, and Emicos had to fight the desire to gag from the stink. But instead of looking up, Emicos made like a statue, and was careful to breathe so slowly that his chest didn't move enough to be noticed. I'm a corpse, I'm a corpse, I'm a corpse, he repeated to himself over and again, as if thinking it enough would convince the Horror that it was true. Not that the razor-monster couldn't make that true once it found him out. Then came the whip-crack sound he so dreaded to hear, and hot, sticky fluid squirted into his face. It was over, he thought. Done. My turn. But then Emicos realized that the terrible, high-pitched whining in his ears was not his own. A moment before he was going to look up to see what it was, he felt Lise jerk upwards out of his grasp. She slid up from his arms with a horrific screeching , and this time Emicos couldn't help but to shiver as the noise jangled through his skull. Then the dog was out of his grasp entirely, and the young man could imagine the Horror dangling her in mid-air from a razored tendril. Dangling her, screeching and whining, just above him. Then came a sharp crack, like from a stick being broken. Lise's cries stopped in mid-scream, and she fell to the ground with a dull thump, directly in front of his face. Emicos stared into her dead eyes, only inches from his own, and realized that she had joined the rest of his family. Now he was alone. He heard it move, sounding like the rustling of dry leaves. Bracing himself, he waited for that whip-crack that would start his own screaming. But it didn't come. Instead the Horror stepped over him, and the bodies of his parents, and walked out the back door. Emicos laid there all night, staring into Lise's sightless eyes, too scared to move. Forgotten was his hunger, even with the apples, oranges, and biscuits scattering the floor all around him. The floor that was choked with the blood of his parents, and his own dried vomit. Sometime during the night he peed in his pants, too scared to even move to do that, and far too beyond caring anyway. It wasn't until morning came that he found himself able to move. The first thing he did was reach for an apple. The second was to stifle a scream of pain as the muscles in his arm twisted around themselves like snakes. He lay there in agony, and found himself rolling on his back. That brought more pain from his cramped muscles, and it seemed like every part of his body ached. Eventually the agony subsided to a dull throb, and Emicos wondered why his muscles should hurt so much when he hadn't even used them all night. But that didn't really matter too much to him, and he quickly forgot the question, along with the pain, when his hunger reawakened within him. It gnawed at his belly like a tiger, and even the sight of the ants crawling across his father's head didn't lessen Emicos' appetite. Reaching across his dead father, Emicos picked up an apple, brushed the bugs off of it, and devoured it with gusto. That just made him hungrier. So much so that he forgot all about the Horror, and sat up on the kitchen floor, looking for more to eat. Yesterday's lunch was scattered all around, and he gorged himself with all the apples, oranges and biscuits he could find, washing it all down with the tepid water that still filled the pitcher on the table. When he was done he burped loudly, and couldn't help but to cast a frightful glance at his mother, who always scolded him for belching at the table. As if being a Name-Giver was supposed to keep you from having gas. Looking at her headless body brought the weight of his predicament back upon him, and he immediately ducked under the meager cover of the table and looked around for the Horror. Emicos didn't see it. But he knew that didn't mean it couldn't be somewhere close by. He got smarter, and listened for it, listened for any sound that was out of the ordinary for the house he had spent his life in. But there was nothing. No odd sounds at all. Everything felt quiet and empty. Maybe it had gone away. Don't you believe it, he thought. Then he started, and shot a glance at the body of his father. He could almost swear that had been his father's voice, and not the sound of himself thinking. But dead people didn't talk, he knew, and his father's lips certainly weren't moving. He had to be imagining it. Sure. He looked away from his father, and his eyes found Lise, laying still on the floor, with a small pool of blood congealed at the base of her skull. Her head was canted back so far, that if she had been alive, she would be looking at her tail, only with her head upside-down. "Why couldn't you stay quiet?" Emicos wondered. "Why?" "Stupid dog. I always said you were a stupid dog." "Did you want to die?" That brought the tears. A flood of them. As if a river had sprung up somewhere deep inside of him. He found himself sobbing uncontrollably, even as he gathered up Lise's cold and stiff body in his arms and hugged her close. Hugged her close and sat there rocking back and forth, wishing that the horrible, empty aching that had just opened up inside of him would go away. Go away and take everything else with it. It didn't go away. But he did stop crying after awhile. He had to go. He thought. He had to just leave here. Now. Standing up, he looked around, still cradling Lise's stiff corpse in his arms. He took a step for the back door, but remembered the Horror walking around the corner the last time he had tried to go out that way. So he turned and went in the other direction. Walking into the living room, he stopped just shy of the front door, and stared down at Ghita, hanging from the knob. He could now see that there was a gaping rent in her back, which the doorknob disappeared into, somewhere inside her ribcage. If he wanted to open the door, he would have to move her. He didn't want to do that. It wasn't the idea of touching her ripped up corpse that bothered him. It just seemed, rude. "Bye sis." he said with a wave and a weak smile, walking to the bedroom they had shared with Delsin. He briefly wondered what had happened to Delsin's body. Maybe the Horror was still dragging it around somewhere, he supposed. But that really didn't matter. It wasn't like Delsin had someplace to go. He however, did. Going to the window that faced the side of the house, Emicos set Lise down on his bed, and leaned across her body to open it. The window slid up with a faint rattle, and then Emicos crawled up on the bed, gathered her up under one arm, and prepared to hop through. Lise's head flopped around on a weird angle, and Emicos was struck by the eerie way that the dog seemed to be staring outside. He followed her gaze, and saw the Horror walking alongside the house, coming from the back yard on a path that would take it directly across the window. His duck and roll came by reflex, before he could even think. The bed creaked under his shifting weight, and he pressed his back against the wall next to the window, hoping that the monster would not see him through the sharp angle of the portal. It didn't, and Emicos caught a vague glimpse of it's dark gray-black shape as it passed by. Then he realized that if it kept on walking alongside the house, and turned at the corner, it would step across the front window. Where it would be able to see him clearly. Quiet as he could, fast as he could, Emicos stepped off the end of his bed, and ducked behind the headboard, putting its wooden face between him and the window. Then he remembered Lise, whose body he had left on his bed. For all the world to see. He thought about reaching around the headboard to grab her. But that would expose too much of his body. The Horror would see him, whether it was looking in the window or not. But there was no other way to move her. If the Horror glanced in the window, it could not miss her, laying on the white sheets of his bed as if she was sleeping peacefully. It would notice her, and wonder how she had gotten up from the kitchen and moved to the bedroom. It would wonder who had moved her. Then it would come looking for that person. He would just have to hope it didn't look in the window as it walked by, Emicos decided, feeling his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. Just hope that it didn't look inside, and kill him. Just hope that it wasn't slow, like the men in the square. The sound of hoofbeats came to his ears, and Emicos thought of the three who had tried to escape on horses yesterday. Didn't they learn? There was no escape, he knew. Trying only meant dying sooner. People that dumb didn't deserve to live. Then Emicos realized something odd about the sound. It was growing louder, like it was coming nearer, not getting fainter, as it would if someone were trying to ride away. Someone was coming into the village! Hope blossomed in his chest, like a sun that flared bright and warm and burned away the fear and despair inside him. Maybe it was someone coming to rescue him, his mind leapt with joyous expectation. Maybe it was a hero from Travar, who had heard of the monster and come to save them all. Maybe it was even Barakah Stoneheart, who had won last year's Founding Tournament. Without thinking, Emicos lifted his head over the rim of the headboard, and looked to the window. He could see nothing from his position across the room. But he didn't see the Horror either, and that was good. He spared a quick glance in the direction of the side window, and didn't see the Horror there either. Even better. It had probably gone off to find the man on the horse, Emicos reasoned. It didn't seem to like people on horses much. Not that it seemed to like people on foot either. But it had stopped murdering the walking people to go kill the riding ones. That seemed like a good clue to Emicos. With that in mind, he crept to the window, and dared a fast peek outside. The town square was empty but for the corpses strewn about, and the birds that idly pecked at their flesh. The other houses were all quiet and closed up, and Emicos now saw that some people had barricaded their windows with what might have been overturned tables, or doors taken from their hinges. That didn't seem like a bad idea, he thought at first. But it was still pointless, he knew. If the Horror wanted in, it was going to get in. Any idiot should be able to plainly see that. It wasn't as if some ork scorchers had taken over the town. Horrors were monsters from the netherworlds, or so his father had once told him. Creatures not of this world. A door was not going to stop them. Just annoy them. Annoying it didn't seem bright. Barricading yourself in was a bad idea after all, he decided. The hoofbeats grew louder, and Emicos was amazed at how clearly he could hear the sound. Because it was so quiet, he realized. Quiet like it had never been in the village before. Usually there was always the low background noise of everyone doing their daily business. But now that was gone, and had been since the Horror come yesterday. He could hear the wind, the wings of the birds, and the sound of the horse, coming very close now. The ork came riding into the square a few streets away from Emicos' house, giving the youngster a clear view of him. He was big, bigger than anyone in the village, even the blacksmith, and the horse he rode was the largest charger Emicos had ever seen. Emicos knew he was an ork by the tusks that jutted up from his lower jaw, even though the man's mouth was shut. His mother had told him that was how you knew an ork. That and the smell. He was too far away to smell, but Emicos could see the tusks clearly. That was enough for him. It was an ork scorcher! Emicos wanted to jump with excitement. For his entire life nothing had ever happened in the village. Now they got a Horror and a scorcher in just two days. It was just amazing. The scorcher looked tired, Emicos then realized. He was slumped over, shoulders stooped, and wasn't even bothering to wear the helmet that rested at the head of his saddle. His lance was resting at a weary angle over one shoulder, and he seemed to be covered in dust. The ork rode nearly half-way to the well before realizing that something was wrong. Emicos could tell because that was when he stopped and started to look from one body to another, bodies that littered the ground all around him and his horse. The ork spent a few moments gazing from one slashed-up corpse to another, then cast his eyes to the empty streets, and barricaded houses that lined the square. Emicos recognized the look on the ork's face just then. It was worry and fear. His heart crashed. This wasn't a dauntless warrior from the plains. It was a tired and scared guy on a big animal. Hardly what Emicos had hoped for. Some ork scorcher. As if hearing Emicos' thoughts and taking offense; the ork quickly raised the helmet to his head and slid it over his skull in a single, fluid motion. Just as quickly, he spun the incredibly long lance over his shoulder, so that he held it point upward in one arm. At the same time his horse leapt forward, reacting faster than Emicos would have thought was possible for a creature as large as it was. Never once using the reins, the ork rode a quick circle around the well, scanning the houses all along the rim of the town square. Emicos' heart soared again. Maybe this was a hero after all, he hoped. Maybe the ork really could save them all! Then the Horror appeared out of thin air. It was just suddenly there, in front of the ork, with no warning at all. Before the horse could even neigh a warning, the monster sent out tendril, and with a whip-crack, the charger fell to the ground, it's head dangling halfway off it's shoulders. The ork moved quickly though, dropping his lance and leaping from the dying animal even as it fell. The scorcher came to the ground on his feet, and tucked into a neat roll that brought him springing up right in front of the Horror. Before the monster could do anything, the ork slammed both his fists into its head, rocking the creature backwards, and nearly hurling it from its feet. The ork drew the biggest knife Emicos had ever seen, moving far quicker than a man in armor should. But before he could plant the fearsome weapon in the Horror's chest, there came another whip-crack, and the ork's hand went spinning away into the dust, still holding the blade. The ork stared down in amazement at the blood spurting from his wrist, and Emicos was reminded of his father's look of surprise when the hole had appeared in his chest. There came another whip-crack, and the ork reeled away, half of his face shorn off and gushing blood. The horseman staggered off, and Emicos could see that this was going to be the same old story. The Horror carving someone up, and them just screaming until it was finally over hours later. Emicos turned away from the window and sat down on the floor, leaning back against his bed. There was no hope. He realized forlornly. No one was going to save him. No one was going to save any of them. They were all going to die, one by one, under the Horror's razor sharp tentacles. He was going to die. Just like everyone else. It was just a matter of time. The screaming came closer, sounding half-choked, and gurgly. Emicos imagined that must be from having only half a face. That must make it hard to scream. He wondered if that was good or bad. Then the front door crashed open, and Emicos jerked his head up in time to see the ork slam to the floor in the other room, directly in front of him; the rider's legs twisted up in Ghita's hacked corpse. The ork's face was a mask of blood, and his helmet went rolling away on the wooden planks of the floor. Emicos could see that his mail was rent in half-a-dozen places, all welling blood through the torn metal links. Emicos didn't waste much time looking at the ork, and once he got over the sudden jolt of the horseman bursting in, Emicos reached back, grabbed Lise's body, and slid under his bed. He found his pillow, still laying on the floor from yesterday, and pulled it in front of his face to help conceal him, peeking underneath just enough to see what was happening in the other room. He couldn't see the Horror because of the angle in which he looked through the doorway. But he knew when it was there by the way the ork started to squirm and crawl away. He had seen it enough times to know what that meant. Emicos couldn't take his gaze away from the ork, even though he wished he could. He was just too close. By the Passions, he was only ten feet away! Almost as close as when he had watched his mother and father die. Now he could see one of the Horror's gray-black tendrils, hovering over the ork's frame like a serpent. It wavered back and forth, as if uncertain, and then struck like lightning. Mail parted under the razor-ribbon in an eye-blink, and more blood soaked the floor. The ork screamed; a ragged, wet sound that made Emicos want to jump up through his bed and run away. But he couldn't run. Even if he could, there was nowhere to run to. Trying to get away would only get him killed sooner, and Emicos didn't want to die yet. Passions help him, he just didn't want to die yet. So he laid there and watched as the ork was carved up into throbbing pieces, until his blood merely oozed, instead of spurting or gushing. Until the only chance he had of being saved was finally dead. The Horror went away afterward, dragging what little remained of the scorcher with it. Emicos didn't know where it went to. For all he knew, it was sitting on the front porch. But still, he was glad he couldn't see it anymore, or what it did to people. He was glad he was alone again. Then he thought about its touch, as it had walked past him in the kitchen. The memory was still sharp in his mind, and once more he felt the crawling, leathery skin of the monster next to him. Some of it hard, some of it supple, and sharp enough to cut mail links as if they were fine as hair. He found himself shaking out of control, but this time he kept his stomach down. Clutching the pillow tightly over his head, he wished himself away from this terrible place, wished it would all be over, like a bad dream. He wished and wished, but his wishes never came true. After a while he stopped shaking, and pulled the pillow far enough away from his head to see Lise. Her body was stiff and cold, and strangely locked into the same position as when she had died, head upside-down, staring back over her shoulder. That was odd, he thought, pulling her close and hugging her cold body. Why was she stuck in the same shape? She felt hard and stiff underneath his fingers, as if she was made of wood, rather than flesh and bone. He also noticed that the flesh on one side of her body seemed darker, and felt sort of squishy. That got him curious, and after long minutes of hesitant poking and prodding, he found that the squishiness was blood, all pooled up on that side of her body. The same side she had been laying on all night and morning, he remembered. That made him wonder if his parent's bodies were the same way. They probably should be, he reasoned. But it could be just some dog-thing too. Right now he didn't care to find out. Instead he just lay under the bed, and held Lise close. He didn't know why, but somehow that made him feel a little better, made the thing outside a little easier to take. He knew she was dead, and that she should be buried or something. But he didn't think that she would mind if he held her either. In fact, he was pretty sure she would think that was just peachy. As if to answer his thoughts, he heard one of her short, yapping barks in his ears. Or at least he thought he did. Like with his father in the kitchen, he wasn't sure if he had actually heard it, or imagined it. Not that it really mattered one way or the other. He smiled, and stroked the fur on her head, like he used to when she was alive. He lay there for hours, until he grew hungry once more. Then he crawled out from the bed as quietly as he could, looking left and right for the Horror as he did. But there was no sign of the creature, and Emicos padded to the door with Lise in his arms without incident. Looking over the living room, the only sign that the ork had even been murdered there was the big pool of blood on the floor, which Ghita lay halfway in, face down. That and the broken door, still hanging drunkenly from one hinge, its edge and face splintered and bashed in. Emicos walked in. Avoiding the blood, he quickly jumped across the area in front of the open door, wanting to be in sight from outside for as short a time as possible. Then he padded into the kitchen, and looked for something to eat. Setting Lise down near the sink, he finished what was left of yesterday's lunch. Then, still hungry, he rooted through the cupboards and found some cookies and bread, both of which he devoured with zest. He washed it down with what remained of yesterday's water, which tasted foul and tepid in his mouth. But still, it was better than nothing, he thought as he drank. But it wasn't enough, and still thirsty, he looked for something else to drink. The only other water was from the well, and Emicos wasn't going outside to draw more. That left him with nothing to drink. Nothing at all. Until he remembered the wine his mother and father kept in the top cupboard. He looked at his dead parents, and wondered if it would be all right to have some. He wasn't supposed to, father always said One day son, when you're older. Well, he had the feeling he was older now, a lot older. After only a minute of biting his lip in uncertainty, he pulled a chair to the counter. Climbing up, he reached up with his fingers and opened the cupboard and reached inside. Sure enough, his fingers found some kind of jar, and taking it down, he was saw that he had found a green, long-necked bottle, curiously wrapped with some sort of twine around its bottom half. He stepped quietly off the chair, and looked back to his parents. He really didn't think they would mind, under the circumstances. "Nope," he imagined his father's voice, "Go right ahead son. In fact, I'd have some too, but us dead folks don't drink much." "Thanks dad." Emicos breathed in relief. Pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth, like he had seen his father do a hundred times, he dropped the stopper in one palm and took a big swig from the bottle. It was sweet and fruity, and seemed awfully thick, in a weird sort of way. But it was good. That much Emicos was sure of. It was real good. "Not too much now," his mother warned him. "If you drink too much, you'll get sick." "Yes mother." Emicos murmured. Then he took another sip from the bottle, being careful not to drink too much. When he was done he slid the cork back into the top, giving it a brief tap as he did so, like his father always used to do when he was alive. Finished, he gathered up Lise in his arms, still holding the wine bottle in one hand. "You
just take that with you son." His father told him as he walked out
of the room. Then with a quick hop, he was across the open doorway and
crawling back under his bed just a few moments later.
It was going to be a long day,
Emicos knew.
Soon
enough, the familiar sound of screams came to Emicos. He drank some more
of the wine, and tried not to listen. But the sound was loud, probably
next door, and it was hard to ignore. Especially when it got so shrill
and high-pitched. Still, Emicos did the best he could to put it out of
his mind, and instead thought of how Lise's body had gotten so hard and
rigid, and wondered why that had happened.
By the time night came he was feeling
light-headed and woozy from the wine. That helped him sleep, that and having
Lise close by. Wine was a good thing, he decided just before he nodded
off. Wine and dogs were both good things.
"Rise and shine son," his mother's voice jerked him out of a dream about dogs swimming in huge bottles of wine. "The early bird catches the worm." "Yes mom." he yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He lifted his head to look around, and groaned in pain as his skull slammed into the bed frame. What was that doing there? He wondered as he rubbed his aching head. Then he remembered. He had slept underneath the bed last night, not on top, like usual. Because he had to hide, otherwise the Horror would find him. That brought him to complete wakefulness, and sent his eyes darting about the room, searching for any sign of the monster. It wasn't the Horror that was there however, instead it was his family waiting patiently for him to awake. Sitting arm in arm next to the doorway to the living room were his parents, his mother's head even sat neatly in her lap. Sitting on the floor, leaning back against her bed, was Ghita, and when he crawled out from his hiding place, Emicos found Delsin laying above the covers of his own bed. ""Bout time you woke up." his sister teased. "You really sleep like the dead." "Yeah sleepy-head." Delsin added. "You gonna stay in bed all day? No wonder you can't win a race, you spend all your time in the sack." "You cheated." Emicos declared. "I would'a beat you if Ghita hadn't tripped me." "Poor loser." Ghita murmured. "Now that's enough children." his mother asserted. "Be nice to your brother. It hasn't been easy for him lately." "No it hasn't." his father agreed. He still had that look of amazement frozen on his face, and Emicos thought it was strange that he could talk without moving his lips. "But we're here to help son." "Thanks dad." Emicos said. "But I guess I'm doin' all right so far." "Ingrate." he heard Delsin mutter. "So far." his father snorted. "You've been lucky so far. What about when that Horror really gets down to brass tacks with you? What then son?" Emicos didn't answer. He thought back to the first day, when his mother and father had died. The Horror had stood right behind him and killed them, then walked on by. It had even touched him as it walked past. That memory made him shake, as once again he felt the weird, crawly sensation of the Horror's flesh against his own skin. Why hadn't it killed him too? Had it really not noticed him when it killed Lise? Or when it looked in the window before throwing the three people who had tried to escape out of town? Had he really hid so well? Or was there some other reason that he was still alive? "Dad," he asked slowly. "How come it didn't kill me?" "I don't know son." his dead father replied. "How much do you remember of what I told you about Horrors?" "A little." Emicos mumbled, feeling a little nervous about having everyone looking at him, waiting for him to reply. It didn't bother him that they were all dead, just that they were expecting him to have a good answer. After all, he didn't want to look stupid by saying the wrong thing. "Tell us what you remember son." said his mother. "Just try to think back the best you can." "Horrors come from astral space," Emicos said after long moments, trying to remember back to the time his father had sat them all down to tell them about the Badlands, and the creatures that lived there. "And they're real evil, and hate people." "What else?" his father prompted. "Come on son, I may be dead, but I know there was more than that." "I'm not sure." Emicos whined, wishing they wouldn't all stare at him like they did. All eager and expectant, like he was supposed to know everything. "They like to hurt people," he spat out, feeling his stomach tying itself into knots under their never wavering gaze. "And they like to scare people." "That's right." his mother said in a soothing tone. "They like to scare people." "Because they're monsters." Delsin added. "Remember son," his father began in the voice he only reserved for Important Matters. "Horrors aren't Name-Givers. They don't think like us, or live off the same things we do. They hate life, and everything about it. They like to make people suffer. That's what they live on, like we do on biscuits and gravy." "They
can Mark people." Emicos remembered with dread. "You won't even know when
it happens. Then they know where you are, all the time, and they can come
and find you, even years later, no matter how far you run. Because they
can feel you the entire time. Maybe even read your mind."
"Oh daddy," he mumbled, trying hard
not to cry, "I think it Marked me."
"I think so too son." his father replied. "I think that's exactly what it did." "But how do you make it go away?" Emicos wondered desperately. "How do you kill it?" "We don't know son." his mother answered forlornly. "Maybe some kind of magic. We just don't know." Emicos thought about that, and the mark on him, that only a Horror could see, and he had some more wine. A lot more wine. When the screaming started again outside, he thought his father was right about at least one thing. Horrors sure liked to make people suffer. How long would he suffer, when his time came? After all, there sure wasn't any magic around this place. Later that day Emicos watched as some of the villagers tried to kill the Horror with torches and oil. It wasn't until dawn that the last of them finally died. But even with all those people to torture and kill, the Horror didn't seem to forget about him. When it was finished with each victim, it hung them from the outer walls of his house, impaling them with pitchforks and other farming tools. Emicos hid under the bed all night, listening to the screams, and the occasional tchunnk of another corpse being nailed to the house. He was glad Lise was there to comfort him. The wine didn't last long enough. Emicos managed to fall asleep for a while after the last one died, sometime not long after dawn. But only for a while. When he next awoke the sun's rays were still slanting through the side window, which only happened during the morning. His head pounded, and his chest hurt where he had been laying on it all night. All in all, he felt miserable. Maybe today would be the last day, he thought with an odd sense of dread, and even odder sense of relief. Today it just might be over for once and all. That would be good. Then he realized that the pounding he heard wasn't in his head, but coming from outside. Coming from the road to Travar. Horses coming from Travar! Like the ork scorcher. That thought quashed the hope that had tried to flare within him. Tried, and failed, like a candle blowing out in the wind. Whoever it was would only die slowly, as the ork had. The Horror might even drag them inside, so Emicos could see better. Emicos stroked Lise's fur, and wondered why her body wasn't stiff anymore, like it had been yesterday. The world was sure a funny place, he thought. Filled with lots of things he didn't know about. Like stiff-then-limp-corpses, and Horrors. The sound of hooves came closer, and slowed to a walk when they reached the town square. Emicos just waited under his bed, he didn't want to see anyone else die. He was tired of it, and knew that he was going to see it all up close and very personal soon enough. As soon as the Horror decided to root him out, and get down to brass tacks with him... He heard voices outside, faint at first, but slowly growing louder, as the hooves approached his house. Then the hoof beats stopped, and the voices grew loud enough to make out words. "That's Jugurtha's horse." came a high and thin voice, too strange sounding for Emicos to tell if it was male or female. "Wait," came another voice, definitely male, sounding like a granite wheel rolling over stone "Over here." "By the Passions, what did that?" came a third voice. "What do you think?" came a woman's voice, cold and hard as marble. "It's a Horror." she said after a moment, then her voice dropped so low that Emicos could barely hear it. "It's here, watching us." Then Emicos heard the springs of his bed give a loud creak above him, as if something very heavy had gotten off of it. The sound of the window crashing out came just seconds later, followed by a chorus of yells from outside. It had been sitting on top of his bed! Emicos realized, his blood turning to ice. Sitting on top of his bed and listening to him sleep. Right above him. The entire time. That was enough for him to forget all about the people outside, and what the Horror would probably do to them. More than enough. He lay there shaking so bad that his teeth rattled, and lost all track of time. Lost track of everything, even the Horror. It had been sitting right there! Then the Horror's feet came plopping down on the floor directly in front of him, and Emicos regained track of the world, and everything in it, especially the Horror. From the way its feet pointed, Emicos could tell that it was looking out the front window. He wondered what the Horror was looking at, and a moment later it came hurtling through the window. It was a man, who bounced off Delsin's bed and landed on his booted feet in front of the Horror. The crackle of flame came to Emicos' ears, and he thought he saw a flash of light somewhere above. But with the low bedframe above his head, Emicos couldn't see that high up into the room. He did hear another whip-crack, but this time it wasn't followed by a scream, or a body falling down. That seemed odd. Then the wall erupted behind Emicos. The wood panels just exploded inward, along with the bed above him. He went hurtling across the room with the wreckage, as if a big hand just scooped him up and tossed him that way. The room went spinning around him, along with the Horror, his dead family, and some man who had fire sprouting from his hand. With a thud, he came to a stop against the far wall, and dropped to the floor with a crash that sent shockwaves throughout his body. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to really hurt, and Emicos wondered if this was what it was like for those legendary heroes who felt no pain. What he did feel was his heart racing, and body shaking with excitement, and somehow even though he knew things were happening very quickly around him, events seemed to move with a slow, almost dream-like pace. As he got back to his feet, he saw that the Horror was doing the same, barely a foot away. Also within arms reach was a man with long blond hair, who wore leather armor and held a sword that blazed liquid fire. Somehow, the man was still on his feet, and as he gazed down at Emicos, he shouted to his companions outside. "There's a boy in here!" he exclaimed with what Emicos thought was genuine concern. "Be Careful!" Then Emicos saw what had come through the wall, and for the first time in days, his heart truly soared with hope and joy. He was gigantic, seemingly made of stone, standing so tall that he had to stoop over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. His body was covered in glowing crystal armor, except his fists, which were sheathed in ebon black gauntlets studded on the knuckles with rubies. It was Barakah Stoneheart, Champion of Travar! He looked mad. The Horror snapped out a tendril at Barakah, and the whip-cracking razor-ribbon cut a deep groove into the obsidiman's living crystal armor. Cut a deep groove, but did not draw blood. At the same time the Horror sent a pair of tendrils snapping at the swordsman. But the blond man deftly parried both tentacles with the burning edge of his sword, moving with such grace that he was a pure joy to watch. Emicos also noticed that where the Horror's tendrils came back, they were charred and blackened from the flame. The swordsman rolled past the Horror, and came to his feet beside Emicos. The youngster looked up with surprise at the blond man. The man had moved so fast, that even with the way things seemed to have slowed down before Emicos' eyes, the swordsman had been hard to watch in motion. The blond man gave him a smile that warmed his heart, and Emicos didn't mind at all when the swordsman gathered him up under one arm and leapt through the doorway to the living room. "Stay back young fella." the swordsman cautioned in a friendly tone, setting him down and looking back to the bedroom. "We'll have this taken care of in no time." Emicos didn't doubt that, and for the first time since this had all began, he actually thought he was going to live. Live to see another day. Emicos heard chanting, and turned to see a tiny man with dragonfly wings come flying in through the front door. His hands glowed with magic, and as Emicos watched, a length of chain with a spiked ball at either end appeared between them, seeming to be made of shining blue ice. Behind him came a woman, or at least Emicos thought that was what she was. She wore the skin of a tiger, which even covered her head, so that her face looked out through the beast's fanged maw. A belt of tiny skulls hung around her waist, and as she walked, she chanted in a strange tongue that sounded oddly comforting to him. Then the Horror came crashing through the bedroom wall, backwards. Behind it came Barakah, and Emicos then saw that the obsidiman was holding the monster aloft with one fist, and carrying it further into the room. The Horror's tendrils snapped wildly against Stoneheart, and even though now they drew blood more than once, Barakah never flinched, or loosened his grip upon the monster. The winged man threw his icy chain at the creature, now suspended helplessly above the floor. The mystical weapon hissed through the air with the sound of a frigid wind, and wrapped around the Horror's body with a loud slap! Then the spiked balls at the chain's ends came crashing together against the Horror's ribboned flesh, and burst in a shining explosion of light. Then the light faded out, and as it died, there came a flurry of tendrils from the Horror's now-singed back. The winged man nimbly dodged one, two, then three of the razor-ribbons. But a fourth tendril caught him, and with a whip-crack, the tiny man was cut in half. Just like that. He was dead. Then Barakah lifted the Horror so far up that the monster scraped against the ceiling, and a moment later the giant brought it smashing down to the floor in front of him. The monster crashed so hard that the wooden planks splintered beneath it, and Emicos lost sight of it in the wreckage. Then the swordsman sprang into action. With a leap of breath-taking grace, he vaulted half-way across the room, and came down into the hole made by the Horror, flaming sword first. Emicos was struck by the beauty of the move, and of the courage it must have taken to perform it. He certainly would never do such a thing. Then came those terrible whip-cracks, and the swordsman just vanished in a shower of blood. Emicos could see at least half-a-dozen of tendrils shooting out of the depression in the floor, all of them ripping through the blond man's body. He simply ceased to exist, becoming a welter of blood and dismembered flesh. The light and crackle of his flaming sword died with him, and the blade lay there on the floor, nothing more than an ordinary piece of iron now. That was the end of Emicos' hope. It was going to be the same old story. He could see that now. Now the screaming would start again, only this time it would finally be him doing it. But the remaining pair of heroes fought on, and Emicos almost felt a flash of hope when the tiger-skinned woman gestured at the rising monster, and one of it's legs withered into a blackened, shriveled up stub, like an old root. The monster collapsed at the edge of the small pit in the floor, all of the razor-tentacles in that leg shriveled up along with the limb itself. But that only slowed it down for a moment. It seemed to be getting its second wind, Emicos thought. Enough so that losing a limb only made it pause briefly, hardly very long at all. A pair of tendrils shot up at Barakah, catching his raised fists, and snaked tightly around his wrists. The obsidiman struggled against the tentacles, but could make no headway against leathery ribbons. The hero stood there straining to no avail, and no longer seemed all that big in Emicos' eyes. At the same instant, the monster sent a pair of tendrils whip-cracking out at the tiger-woman. A shield of mist appeared in front of her, just in time to keep the razor-ribbons from sawing her in two. But the mist-shield buckled under the force of the blows, and she was hurled away with a loud crack ringing out from her chest. Emicos picked his way through the rubble towards his bedroom, trying not to catch the Horror's notice. Behind him, the two remaining heroes struggled on with growing desperation, and Emicos noted that the tiger woman was now shouting something different in that same, comforting tongue. Whatever it was, he knew that it would do no good. Their desperate fury was what came from someone who knew that he was beaten. That was plain even to Emicos. It was just a matter of time now. When he had finally navigated his way through the ruin that used to be his home and reached his bedroom, Emicos was greeted by another wonder. As he looked down at the scattered bodies of his family, they rose up to their feet, and turned to the Horror in the other room. Even Lise stood up, head lolling to one side, and bared her teeth at the monster in the living room. The Tiger-Lady began a new chant. Emicos gaped in amazement. Talking to the corpses was one thing, but seeing them get up and walk around was another. Dead people didn't do that. He thought with a chill. They just didn't. But they did now, and Emicos stepped out of the way as his dead family clawed their way through the wreck. In moments they were in the other room, where they fell upon the Horror with a savagery that no living being could possess. Clawing at the monster with fingers curved into talons, biting with their teeth, even kicking and elbowing the creature, they fell upon the Horror with such force that even it could not ignore, or shrug off, their blows. Soon the young man also noticed more corpses staggering in. Villagers he had known all of his life, their hacked up bodies disintegrating before his eyes, came clawing inside, jaws slavering for the Horror that had murdered them. Even the winged man's two halves rose to unearthly life, and the hacked up ork scorcher as well. It seemed that every one the Horror had killed was coming stumbling into the house, all looking for vengeance. The chill Emicos originally felt at the sight of the walking dead left him, and was now replaced by a strange feeling of kinship with these undead monstrosities. Somehow their rotting flesh seemed comforting, and he was glad they had their chance to exact a reckoning with the creature that had sent them all to their deaths. In a strange way, it seemed somehow poetic. But the Horror fought back, and while the legion of undead attacked it with savage determination, they were still but flesh and bone. Animated by magic, but flesh and bone nonetheless. The Horror's tendrils snapped and cracked, and the army of the dead went down in front of it in droves. Heads, limbs, whole torsos; all went flying this way and that in a whirlwind of gore, transforming the ruined house into a tiny slice of hell. Still, their numbers told, and by the time the last of the dark legion fell, the Horror was a torn mess. Now most of its razor-tentacles hung broken and limp, and large flanges that seemed like bone lay exposed underneath. It seemed to almost totter as it sat there on it's one remaining leg, but somehow it looked even more fearsome than ever, all broken and smashed as it was. Barakah was now able to jerk his arms free of the monster, and the Tiger-Lady gestured at it again, blood speckling her own lips. As with its leg earlier, the razor-tendrils in the Horror's chest suddenly withered away to nothing, leaving the monster a dried out husk. Now the bones of the creature lay in easy view, spider-webbing out from a central core, like thorny brambles. Barakah thrust his hands into this unearthly mass, and pulled and strained at it with all of his might. The flesh of the Horror gave way under the obsidiman's fingers with a string of crackles and pops, and when Barakah ripped his hands free, huge chunks of bone came with them. But the Horror was still not finished. Tendrils from its remaining limbs whip-cracked up into Stoneheart, and his armor shattered. Pieces of the living crystal sprayed everywhere, one of them tearing a jagged cut along Emicos' cheek. Now Barakah staggered away, blood running from a dozen wounds in his rock-like flesh. With a resounding crash, the obsidiman collapsed to the floor, splintering it beneath his weight. The champion lay there in the rubble, wheezing for breath, too weak to move. Emicos glanced across the room at the Tiger-Lady. She didn't look much better than Barakah. Now Emicos could see a jagged end of bone peeking out through the tiger-skin over her chest. She sprawled against the far wall, coughing blood, and looked back at Emicos. "Finish it kid." she hissed. "I haven't got anything left." Emicos just stared at her in shock. She didn't actually expect him to do something, did she? He was just a kid. What could he do? Except die? "Use your magic dammit!" she spat, blood dripping out of her mouth. "I can see it all around you. Use it!" He turned his gaze to the Horror, and as he watched, a single tendril began to squirm weakly in his direction. It didn't move with the power and speed as the flurry of razor-ribbons that had laid Barakah low, and Emicos guessed that must have been some sort of last gasp by the monster. A last-ditch, desperate attempt to survive. But now that energy was spent, and it lay there broken and tattered on his living room floor. But still not dead. Emicos marveled. What did it take to kill this thing? Even now, Emicos could sense that it was not dying. It would get better, he knew. It would heal good as new. Given time. Maybe he could run away, he thought. Maybe now it would not be able to catch him, all tattered and smashed up like it was. But as that single razored tentacle groped out for him, Emicos knew that it would catch him. He was Marked. Some day, even if it was years from now, it would hunt him down and find him. Then he would be the one screaming in that high-pitched tone. Unless he killed it now. But how do you kill a Horror? He wondered. "Some kind of magic." his mother's voice came to him from the torn up bodies. He stared at the tangled mess of body parts, and somehow he knew which pieces belonged to his mother. As he looked, he found his father, and brother, and sister, even Lise; all even more torn and bloody than before. "What about when that Horror really gets down to brass tacks you?" his father's dead voice came back to him. "Some kind of magic." But what kind of magic was there around here? "Use it kid!" the Tiger-clad Woman-the nethermancer, Emicos suddenly realized-demanded forcefully, blood soaking the bottom of her face. The tendril was at his feet now, and Emicos snapped his head back to it just as it tensed to strike. He leapt aside for all that he was worth, and heard a whip-crack behind him. Wood splintered and showered him with jagged fragments, some of them sticking into the bare skin of his hands and face. But Emicos didn't feel the pain. He had a plan now. He picked his way through the bodies, not being able to take a step without walking on an arm, or a leg, or a torso. But he moved with purpose, and wasn't bothered at all by the gooey mess under his hands and feet. Behind him came the tendril, slowly but tenaciously seeking his life. What kind of magic was around here indeed? He scooped up his mother's head first, noticing that most of the flesh and all of her hair had been shorn off. The tendril came questing behind him, but he was too quick for it to even have a chance to strike, let alone hit him. Next he came to his father, and Emicos thrust both hands into the open ruin of his chest. His hands came upon something hard and long, and Emicos knew that he had found what he was looking for. The young man pulled and twisted, and with a sucking noise his father's backbone came free in his hands. Emicos rolled away immediately, grabbing up his mother's head as he went. He heard the Horror's razor-tendril snap out behind him, and felt blood splatter across his back like rain drops. But he didn't pause, or look back, instead he went directly to his brother, and started digging through what remained of his body. He was rewarded with half-a-dozen ribs, which he bundled up with the other grisly artifacts he had collected. The tendril shot out after him as he dove away, and Emicos barely managed to parry it with his mother's skull. That was close, he thought with a sudden burst of fright. But he was almost done. He came to Ghita, and tore loose a long hunk of her intestines before moving on. Finally he stopped at Lise. His dear Lise, who had comforted him throughout the days he had hid under his bed and cowered. It was only appropriate that he save her for last, he thought. Then he ripped out her jaws, and pried loose her teeth. The tendril was coming closer now, and Emicos had to rush as he assembled his gruesome cargo. He placed his mother's head atop his father's spine, lined the entire thing with Delsin's ribs, and tied it together with Ghita's intestines. Finally he jammed Lise's teeth into the surface of his mother's head, then traced his finger along the cut on his face, and added his own blood to the gory artifact. At last he rose, facing the Horror with a spiked mace made from the body parts of his family. "By the blood and bones of me and mine," he heard himself whisper, "It ends here." The razor-ribbon came after him with sudden quickness, whip-cracking straight for his head. Emicos was ready for it though, and easily beat it aside with his grisly weapon. The tendril came at him again, and once more he knocked it aside. The third time it slashed at him, Emicos was waiting for it. Bashing it down with the mace, he pinned it against the body of the ork scorcher with one foot. Then he brought the mace down with all the strength in his arms, and the razor-ribbon shattered. Emicos turned to face the Horror. The voices of the dead howled in his ears, and he could feel their spirits infusing his limbs with their strength. He stepped over the ruined bodies, until he came to what remained of the Horror. Staring down into the ruin of its chest, he saw a deep red mass of flesh buried under the bone which the obsidiman had splintered and torn away. Again Emicos remembered that horrid, crawly sensation of touching the monster's flesh. The wet, oozing feel of it's leathery hide, crawling like a horde of maggots. It came back to him full force, just as intense as when the Horror had actually touched him in the kitchen, days ago. But Emicos didn't even flinch this time. The dead soaked him, filled him, and howled around him. Their hot breath filled his lungs, and their cold strength turned his body to steel. He felt their unearthly magic flowing around him like a whirlwind, felt that whirlwind tug at his arms, lifting them over his head, holding the gruesome spiked mace nearly high enough to touch the ceiling. When he looked down at the ruined shell of the Horror, he felt no pity in his heart, only the cold fire of the dead. "This time it's gonna be different." he said in voice that echoed the emptiness of the grave. "Mark my words." He got down to brass tacks with the Horror. |