บท 247: Stone, Metal, or Magic

Warning for all weak-hearted or young mice: you should skip the rest of the chapter when you read "Then, someone in the front row stumbled...". Belief me, it's for your own good ;)

Your author, Freakzilla

The last rope gave up under the edge of a guard's sword, and the black mass opened like a giant maw when Katherine fell. A scream of rage and fear cut through the still air at dusk. Then the darkness closed around her body as inevitably as the sun was swallowed by the night. Yet her fate was much more final. A second later, the darkness rested still and serene like an undisturbed lake again. Not a sign, not a sound of the person inside.

Squatting on the edge of the cavern with his arms resting on his knees, hands hanging down, Ethan hummed a little melody. It was hauntingly beautiful, the remnant of a falling family that turned into cannibalistic monsters. The Bale Ballard was known far and wide for its tale of sadness and cruelty of life.

Reaching the last verses dedicated to the children of the executed evil, Ethan opened his mouth to sing in a melodious whisper. "... and did you hear the rumor that flesh they eat again? And did you hear the rumor that flesh they eat again..."

For the whole length of the song, Ve quietly stood beside him, never taking his eyes off the dark expanse below. Finally, he sighed, the shadow of age falling over his straight posture like a heavy coat and pressing him down. "Well, looks like she won't surface again. Our hopes were too high. What a shame."

Hearing that, Ethan's murky brown eyes shone with the gentleness of a smile. Different from his usual smile, this one seemed to contain a trace of real feelings, though he himself would be shocked to hear that he possessed some. "You have no idea. As long as she doesn't want to, Katherine will never die. That is the one thing you missed in your calculation for percentage: her stubbornness. If you place a wall in the way of my cousin - it can be stone or metal - her head will break through. She is just that kind of impossible person."

Ve's brows were already raised in skepticism, prepared to retort, but instead decided to wait just a bit longer. Time would prove one of them wrong more thoroughly than words could.

The group around Nathaniel had long lost their pursuers to the endless darkness. With time, the magic had closed in on the group, daring to venture closer and closer to Nathaniel and thereby narrowing the space for his soldiers.

It resembled a bubble that slowly lost air, the space between the churning darkness barely illuminated by the torches they ignited as soon as they entered. Soon after, they'd grudgingly abandoned their horses. The space was simply growing too small. Despite knowing that necessity, the fearful neighs and the sight of flesh falling from the bones of living, moving beings still haunted their senses. That was the reason for their heavy and lasting silence.

Since they were not the closest to their commander, none of the soldiers knew why the darkness feared to touch him, yet they followed him without complaint. Each one had their own conviction and reason to be in his service, reasons that could not be shaken even by threats to their lives. By now, the space was so narrow that they formed a circle in the free space around their commander, their shoulders touching each other. Only Nathaniel was avoided. Everyone knew that their commander did not like to be touched by anyone but his wife. Soon, however, they would have to decide between breaking that unspoken rule or getting chummy with the darkness instead.

If it was because of the mental strain, the bad lighting, or other reasons - many soldiers began to feel light dizziness over time. The leather armor and weapons suddenly weight more, their feet dragging over the ground, and breathing was difficult. Nathaniel also felt a bit light-headed. The pace of the group slowed without anyone voicing their discomfort.

Then, someone in the front row stumbled over an abandoned chainmail on the ground. They had passed many such metal parts before; breastplates, buckles, greaves, gold rings, and helmets lying in heaps together as if the soldiers wearing them had simply disappeared into thin air. That thought alone was spooky, but what happened now was much worse.

The soldier in front stumbled, his hand reaching out to catch himself but his face and said hand entered the wall of darkness before he could. It took just a blink, then he was upright again, gargling incoherently and swaying on his feet like a blind person. The soldier beside him, who'd already stretched out his arm to help, halted in midair, horrorstruck.

The face of the person before him was now void of flesh, the white bone beneath polished as if to serve as tableware. His eyes, nose, and mouth were gone, and black liquid could be seen bobbing in his open throat. That was what produced the gargling sound.

The soldier beside the affected stumbled backward with a pale green face, instantly knocking against his backer and bringing the whole group to a halt. Whoever didn't notice it at first saw it now: Wherever bone still connected to flesh was a moving, black liquid, rapidly eating further into the affected soldier. The same went for his hand that had equally entered the black wall in front and now resembled a skeleton's with dark liquid moving up his arm. Most gruesome, however, was the fact that the person himself was not yet dead.

The soldiers watched speechlessly how the real hand came up to touch the skeleton's face, rubbing the empty eyeholes, then halting in wonder and slowly feeling for his nose, his ears, without finding any. The gargling sound intensified, followed by the retching sound of another soldier that lost the fight against his stomach acid.

Awoken by the sound, the others averted their eyes, some also retching, but most just moving closer to the middle of their bubble and away from the terrifying dark liquid. Nathaniel, however, forced himself to see.

His red eyes watched closely as the flesh vanished from his comrade's arms, his torso, his back. Fed by it, the black liquid began to multiply.

That was why Nathaniel was the first to notice that the muscles could not support the skeleton anymore and that it would fall in the direction of his subordinates, possibly infecting another one. Another death on his plate.

"Retreat," Nathaniel commanded tonelessly, and the soldiers complied almost too eagerly, taking a few steps back together with him. Nathaniel's gaze was fixed on his former comrade until what remained of him vanished in the wall of darkness. He knew that even the bones would be eaten soon, yet there was no choice but to leave them behind. The air bubble kept growing smaller and he could not burden his soldiers or himself with the possibly infective remains of the fallen. And it would probably not be their last. Wondering how many burials without a body he would have to arrange in the future, Nathaniel spoke solemnly. "May the gods bless your soul, Serin. May you find whatever paradise you wish for."

"May you find whatever... paradise you wish for." The repetition of the soldiers was rough, and broken as if forced out of hurting throats. Then they slowly turned their backs and continued in another direction.

Gazing at the compass in his hand, Nathaniel circumnavigated the place of their comrade's corpse, before heading in the direction of the mountains once again. He knew that reaching them in the shadow of Blackie was a race against more than just time, but he had to try. His anxiety for Katherine rose by the minute. And, despite or exactly because of his continuous disbelief in its survival, he also feared for their child. For them both to be alive, was more than he dared to hope for.