Page 29 of The Source of Storms

“No Halja!” he yelled, and I halted. “Get into your room and bolt the door. Do not open it for anybody. Do you understand?”

“Byrgir, what–”

“Go now, Halja!” he roared.

I backed away toward the inn, real fear in my veins now. I turned and began to run. When I looked back over my shoulder, I glimpsed Byrgir running back toward the woods.

I sprinted to the inn and reached it just as the large double doors slammed shut before me. I banged on them desperately. “Let me in! Let me in, please!”

They creaked open and I slipped inside. Two men slid a heavy beam across the doors right after me. I charged up the stairs to my room, locked the door, checked that my small knife slid easily from its little scabbard in my boot, and grabbed my bow.

The screams had carried into the streets now. I felt the fear and chaos rising in the city, the intense emotions of people fleeing for their lives. I opened the window to see people running, screaming, as a great shadow roiled down the street behind them, drowning the torchlight and early dawn in black.

A woman ran by as the shadow caught up to her, sweeping over her. I could see her form in it as she ran, but something sprinted up behind her with unnatural speed. Its torso looked human at first, but it crawled facing forward on six limbs, spider-like and fast. And not human arms and legs, no. Elongated, pale, bony appendages. They ended not in hands and feet, but long singular blades of sharp bone.

The ends of the blades clacked against the street as the creature rushed up behind the woman and plunged one into her back without hesitation. The blade burst forth from her chest, and she coughed and spluttered blood from her mouth. Thecreature leaned back on its rear legs and stabbed another blade through her, then pulled the two apart, ripping her cleanly in half with a squelch. Blood flew, and the dark mass of her guts slid forth onto the cobbles of the street. I screamed.

It turned its head to me with a nightmarish twitch. Empty, clouded eyes in a pale face devoid of expression. It launched itself at the side of the inn, and its blades sunk into the wood of the wall beneath me, one after another as it climbed with haste.

Thud.Thud. Thud.

I took two steps back, nocked an arrow, drew a steadying breath, and raised my bow just as its monstrous form appeared in the window. I loosed my arrow and it found its mark, slamming into the creature’s chest. An unsettling howling roar ripped from it, and I readied another arrow as it pulled a bladed arm from the wall and swung it inside the window. I sunk the second arrow into its eye and heard the cracking of bone. It slumped into stillness, suspended on the side of the inn by its blades still stuck into the wood.

I nocked another arrow and stood watching the monster as I tried to calm my breathing. The smell of rotten flesh was overwhelming. Screams echoed from around the village as I gained the courage to approach the shadowfiend in the window. It did not move, although I kept an arrow nocked anyway. I pushed its chest with my foot, still prepared to fire at it. It didn’t react. I pushed again, harder, and its limbs strained against the blades embedded in the wood of the building.

I put down my bow, grabbed the arrow in its eye socket, and pulled. It came free with a wet suctioning sound. I shoved the creature’s top arm until it came loose from the wall. The upper body of the monster slumped backward, still hanging from four legs. I realized that I should’ve retrieved the other arrow before I pushed it, for it was now out of reach. But at least it was clearenough to close the window, which I was just about to do when I heard the clacking of another monster on the road below.

I grabbed my bow and sidled back up to the window ledge. The blade-footed shadowfiend below paused and looked up at its fallen––or rather, suspended––brethren, and I took my shot. The arrow barely caught one of the monster’s long, spider-like legs. In all my practice, I had never tried to shoot drunk before. It was harder than I anticipated.

Injured, the creature began to scuttle away with its insect-like gait. I planted my feet, exhaled a deep, steadying breath, aimed high, and let another arrow fly. It sunk into the monster’s back, hard, and the creature was thrown forward as it collapsed on the street. I was grateful that I had trained with the heavier bow all this time.

I closed and locked the window before going back downstairs. Several armed men and women, including the inn keeper, stood in prepared silence near the door. The inn keeper glanced up at me, worry in her eyes, as her hands wrung the handle of an old but sturdy battle ax.

“Back up to your room, girl,” one of the men said, following the inn keeper’s gaze.

“I can help. I killed two on the west side of the inn just now,” I said.

“We don’t need help,” the man snapped. “Inn’s shut tight, and the Ironguard will take care of this.”

I’d heard the term before but had never met one. I knew only that the Ironguard were mysterious warriors that tried to defend unfortunate villagers wherever shadowfiends attacked. Given the man’s tone, I didn’t want to stick around to ask more questions, so I returned to my room and bolted myself in. I stationed myself on the bed facing the door, bow and arrow in hand, quiver by my side. I did not sleep.

An hour or two later, I heard an ominous, persistent knocking outside the inn. It began slow.

Thud.Thud.Thud.

Then increased in tempo and volume, like someone going from a walk to a sprint.

Thud.Thud.Thud thud thudthudthudthud.

A black shadow rushed past the window, and the sound faded as it moved away. More knocking followed from downstairs. Something was pounding on the front doors. Something heavy. The pounding multiplied until it was replaced by the clashing of steel, shouting, and then quiet.

Gradually, the screams and shouts died out around the village. The sun climbed in the sky. I felt increasingly nauseous, and couldn’t tell if it was from last night’s festivities or the sluice of adrenaline that had been unleashed in my blood all night. When I had heard no screams or commotion for at least a couple hours, I packed my things and crept down into the tavern.

The group of armed men and women I had seen last night were still there, although one man was slumped at the bar, seemingly asleep.

“Is it safe to go out?” I asked the inn keeper.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Nobody’s been outside yet to find out.”

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