Watch out to your left!
Bel ignored the spirit’s cry and went to squeeze the crossbow trigger. A hugger crashed against his shoulder, knocking the crossbow from his hand and pinning his sword arm to his side as it encircled his torso with its grip. He staggered backwards as the creature gnashed at him, its foetid breath making him gag. As he gagged, the hugger tightened its grip, forcing the air out of his lungs. Bel strained under the furry embrace and the creature snarled in rage as he started to loosen its grip. It threw back its head and howled, hugging with all its might, and Bel felt a sickening pressure on his chest.
Come on, man! Use your free hand!
Bel punched wildly at the hugger, bruising his hands on its muscular body. He tried to suck in breath and failed, unable to open his lungs wide enough. His vision dotted and the world swam. His free hand flailed, searching for the creature’s neck, and found it. All his strength went into a squeeze of his own. The hugger’s howl cut off abruptly as he crushed its windpipe, its eyes bulging as the light behind them went out. It dropped away limply, leaving Bel coughing and gasping as air gushed back into him.
The faintness passed quickly and he felt even stronger for the adrenaline hit. He bellowed and ran at three huggers who were bounding for a bow, swinging his sword about him with gathering momentum. He flew through the huggers like a metal wind, their screams filling the air along with their blood. One managed to begin a leap at the bow, but jerked backwards suddenly as Bel caught it by the leg and swung it around like a sack of potatoes to dash its brains out on a rock. Next to it, a wounded hugger opened its eyes just in time to see Bel’s foot descending before its head was pulped.
Bel checked the ground for his crossbow and spotted it. He rolled towards it, coming up on one knee with the weapon in his hands, shooting a bolt into a hugger swinging from the trees. He slid it back into his belt and noticed Munpo, who had a gash in his arm but was otherwise unhurt. The troop leader was furiously glancing about for his next target. Around him soldiers were ramming their swords into the wounded or dying, but suddenly there were no fresh waves bounding in. The screeching in the trees began to dwindle – the huggers were retreating.
‘The big male!’ shouted Rokinin, pointing with one of the two longswords he carried. Bel saw the large hugger swinging away through the trees, followed by some of its smaller brethren.
‘Follow it!’ shouted Munpo, charging into the undergrowth. ‘It’ll lead us to the nest!’
Bel bounded after, slashing at plants in his way. Ahead he could make out the fleeing beasts, sometimes springing from tree to tree like cats, sometimes swinging like apes. He could hear other soldiers in pursuit and knew the troop had begun to spread out. Somewhere Munpo was calling orders – the nest had to be found and every beast there killed.
Bel stumbled over a hidden root, but caught hold of a branch and hardly broke pace. He heard a series of crashes to his side and saw M’Meska springing high on her powerful hind legs, spines raised along her back. Two bounds and she was away ahead of him. He rounded a boulder to see the Saurian sighting the big hugger with her longbow. Her arrow flew towards the beast, catching it in the backside mid-swing. It wailed and barely managed to catch its next branch. M’Meska sent another arrow and this one struck its shoulder as it was hauling itself up. It yelped and lost its grip, crashing to the bushes below.
Blade Bel –
Not now!
Bel found himself alongside Munpo, and together they approached the place where the big male had fallen. Somewhere nearby they heard Gredda calling for the rest of the troop to converge.
‘Be careful,’ puffed Munpo as they slowed. ‘There may still be some fight left in it.’
Blade!
Quiet!
They came to a stop before the quivering shrubs where the big male had fallen. Munpo raised a finger to his lips and tentatively pushed aside a fern with his sword. The big hugger erupted, white mucus streaming from its wide maw, yellow eyes blazing with hate. Munpo and Bel each raised their swords, but the hugger jerked in-leap and fell, a final arrow sticking in its neck. They turned to see M’Meska on a log behind them, scaly lips pulled back in a snarl.
‘Not even make good rug, smell so bad,’ spat the Saurian. Her eyes flickered and her nostrils flared. ‘Smell very bad here,’ she said.
She glanced up, and the others followed her gaze. As they did, their knuckles whitened on their weapons. They were standing in the middle of the nest.
I tried to warn you.
In the trees above were row upon row of yellow eyes. Wide lipless mouths opened to reveal dripping fangs. Claws sheathed and unsheathed as the creatures began to hiss, the sound building as more joined in. Heads appeared from inside nest-like structures of twig and leaf as parents realised they had been invaded.
There were so many.
‘Arkus,’ whispered Munpo. ‘I’m a fool. We only fought a hunting party. This is the nest guard.’
A hugger slid partway down a trunk nearby, lifting its head to howl.
‘Come on,’ said Munpo softly, backing away. ‘We must regroup.’
As he, Bel and M’Meska began to move, more huggers descended. One landed in the undergrowth close by, and the three broke into a run, heading towards Gredda’s calls.
‘Regroup!’ yelled Munpo as they went. ‘Regroup!’
From all directions came sounds of soldiers blundering through vegetation. Somewhere someone screamed. They came upon Gredda and found her with half the troop, still calling to the others.
‘To me!’ came Rokinin’s voice, not far off. ‘Face outwards!’
‘To Rokinin!’ shouted Munpo.
To Bel it did not feel like his feet touched the ground. As he barrelled onwards, the air sucked through his flaring nostrils had never seemed so fresh. A hugger dropped in front of him and he ran it through without stopping, trampling its corpse beneath him. Faced with death, he had never felt so alive . He burst into a patch of ferns just in time to see a soldier falling beneath them, a hugger wrapped about him and gnawing at his neck. The plants swished and settled, the soldier disappearing as if sunk beneath water. Rokinin and Hunna were standing with their backs to a large clawberry tree, holding off a seething mass of huggers under the ferns. Dimly Bel registered that they were hopelessly outnumbered. Beasts swarmed down the trees, and he heard them attacking those who followed closely on his heels.
Even as Bel charged to help Rokinin and Hunna, the huggers overpowered them. Hunna fell screaming under a mass of snapping fangs, while Rokinin grappled helplessly with a hugger wrapped around his chest. Bel pulled out his crossbow, fired a bolt into the hugger as it dragged Rokinin down. The creature twisted off, but Rokinin was already on his knees, shaking violently as he was torn at below the ferns, out of sight. Bel leaped, stabbing and stomping his feet, but Rokinin was beyond aid. As the town commander gasped and died, the huggers turned their yellow eyes on Bel.
Bel whooped and swung his sword. ‘Come on then!’ he yelled. ‘Let’s get to it!’
Iassia had never been so afraid. Death was not usually something that concerned him, a clever weaver being practically immortal, yet now he faced a fate worse than death.
He had come across a lost mind once. A ghost thing it had been, mad and unpredictable, unseen and unheard by most. He had listened to it for a while and it made no sense to him, though it was obviously in great distress. He’d had some sport with it when it had weakly tried to possess his body. If this Bel died, the pathetic torment that had once amused him would become his own living nightmare.