Page 41 of Edge of the Wild

“Close ranks!” he heard the captain shout. “Fall in, close ranks, close ranks!” And then, a shout toward them: “Archers!”

“Shit,” Leif said aloud this time. “Get to the trees,” he ordered his men. “We’ll find them and cut them down.”

He took three steps – and collided with Haldin’s back.

“What are you–”

“Look.”

Another scream from the main party. More shouting.

A dozen paces ahead, a gust of wind shifted the mist – and a figure coalesced. Reared up out of the dark, a ghostly impression against the black of the trees.

It was man-shaped, in a vague sense. Leif had the impression of fur, a blurriness to its edges. He couldn’t see a face, for the shadows. But it stood tall on two legs; he glimpsed arms – and, also, two tall, branching antlers that sprouted from the figure’s head.

Leif drew his sword. “Arm yourselves,” he whispered.

More screaming from the main party; the hiss of fresh torches being lit.

At Leif’s side, Náli went down to his knees with a choked-off gasp.

Leif reached for his shoulder with his free hand. “Náli, get up.”

The Corpse Lord resisted, and when he spoke, it was in a low, growling voice that was not his own. Not at all. “This is…the end. You will die. These lands are yours no longer.”

~*~

“Erik, wait!” Oliver caught up with Erik halfway down the wall walk. Erik turned with a swirl of furred cloak, drawn up to his full height, face set at harsh angles. His nostrils flared on every breath. “You can’t go running out there,” Oliver said, his own breath coming in fast, insufficient heaves. “They’ve clearly got archers, and you’ll only be a target.”

“Leif is out there,” Erik said, turning again.

Oliver caught his sleeve, desperation choking him. “How does getting yourself shot help him?”

“I will not leave him to die, Oliver.” He twisted free and stalked toward the door.

No, Oliver thought, wildly. The bloody fool would go charging out with a torch and drawn sword and be pierced with arrows, just like the guardsmen who continued to scream down below.

A party of Kjaran’s own arches went trotting past, responding to their lord’s commands to fall in line and nock arrows. They were too far, though, and nothing could be seen besides the falling torches.

“If you start shooting, you’ll hit our men out there in the dark,” Oliver snapped over his shoulder, and pressed on after Erik. “Erik, you–”

Blue.

A sudden, great flash of blue filled his vision. Blotted out every sight, and sound; left a great rushing like blood in his ears, and a searing pain at his temples. Blue. Fractured with white, faceted like crystal. He felt like he was falling. Felt wind on his face, and he was cold, so cold – but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was anembracingcold; it buoyed instead of biting.

And within that cold, that swallowing sea of blue, there was…a presence. Someone – something – was with him, a new weight settling at the back of his mind. But he wasn’t afraid, strangely. It felt…right, somehow.

Hello, he thought.

A low, rippling growl was his answer.

Something touched his face, shockingly hot. “…Oliver.Oliver.”

The presence slid away.

No, come back.

The light swelled, blue and then white–

---