Now, Threnosh World

Jologor was flat on his back. His torch was off in the distance, judging by the orange-yellow glow between some structures.

Henosk’s discarded torch only cast enough light to cover Jologor’s lower half. His legs were kicking violently.

Henosk didn’t wait for the others. He kicked his torch toward Jologor and rushed forward with a bellow. The light revealed nothing except Jologor’s dying face, eyes wide open, pleading as they locked with Henosk’s.

The cragant’s throat was torn to shreds. There was a surprising lack of blood. The light in Jologor’s eyes faded and then there was nothing.

“What’s happening?” Senem yelled out. “Henosk? Jologor? Report immediately.”

“We’ve got enemy contact!” Aurastra stood next to Henosk. She was the first to reach them.

“Defensive circle!” Senem barked.

The rest of the squad complied with well-practiced quickness. They formed a circle with shields and spears at the ready.

“Jologor?”

“He’s gone, decanus,” Henosk said in a hushed whisper. “Tore his throat out.”

“What did? You saw it?”

“One moment he was speaking about his son’s first fight and the next…” Henosk’s grip on his spear and shield was slack. He stared at Jologor’s sightless eyes.

“Legionnaire! I need you to be as the crags.” Senem banged his gauntleted fist on Henosk’s shield.

The loud bang echoed and snapped Henosk back to attention.

“We are unyielding,” Henosk said.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. I— I, I saw nothing— except I thought I saw a shadow moving away from Jologor— his head. Doesn’t make sense…”

“Something tore his throat,” Aurastra said. “Not enough blood either.”

“It’s got to be the black-armored gray one. The one they say takes your blood,” Regaar growled.

“Let’s find it and kill it. For Jologor,” Kresk said.

“Send a signal to the legion,” Senem said.

Takelos stepped back from the defensive circle, while Henosk took her place. “What message shall I send, decanus?”

“Enemy contact. Probable special warrior. Request reinforcements.”

Takelos took the horn at her belt and blew a short note followed by a longer one, comprising of several shorter notes.

“We make for our camp. Switch your spears out.” The enemy was the kind that killed from up close and it had the advantage in the darkness.

“What about Jologor?” Henosk said.

“We’ll have to come back for him later,” Senem said.

The squad exchanged troubled glances.

“We can’t carry him and fend off the enemy,” Aurastra snapped.

Henosk frowned, but nodded.

Senem knelt next to Jologor. He closed his eyes and placed a wooden coin the size of a small plate on each one.

“Just in case,” he whispered. Only Aurastra heard him. “Aura in front, Menolet in the back.” They possessed the sharpest eyes and the quickest reactions. “Henosk, you’re torchbearer for Aurastra. Regaar, you’re for Menolet. I’m behind Henosk, then Takelos, followed by Kresk. We keep a tight formation. I’ll be calling out every few seconds. Everyone behind me sounds off. Got it?”

“We should be hunting this thing down… for Jologor. His death must be avenged,” Regaar grumbled.

“It might be long gone by now,” Takelos said, hopeful.

Senem shook his head. He had the misfortune to be under the eyes of a winged wyrm once when he was younger. He had never forgotten what it felt like to be hunted. He looked out into the darkness and felt the same. “I don’t think we’ll have difficulty getting a fight.”

A loud chime sounded, but only the squad heard it. Their hunter heard nothing.

The Crags look down upon you with favor!

You have received a Quest.

Survive the night.

Success Parameters: Live to see the dawn.

Failure Parameters: Death.

Reward: 100000 Universal Points.

You cannot refuse.

“What is this?” Senem was stunned. Horrified. “Have any of y—”

His entire squad shook their heads. Their eyes were as wide as an ale barrel’s lid.

“My the crags shelter us,” Takelos murmured.

“My honored elder told us stories about one of our ancestors getting Universal Points for her part in slaying a greater winged wyrm. Out of a thousand warriors, less than a hundred survived,” Menolet said.

“That many points…” Aurastra looked at Senem with despair.

“Even if we hit all our bonuses for this deployment we’d be lucky to get close to 2500 Universal Points,” Henosk said. There was a gleam in his eyes.

“We just have to survive,” Kresk said.

“That shouldn’t be too hard. We’re not that far from camp and reinforcements are on the way. Right?”

Henosk received silence as his answer.

The squad moved in a single line. The narrow streets, especially for the cragants’ enormous size, made any other formation impossible. Spreading out meant walking with structures in between them. It meant there were more places for their unseen enemy to ambush. Every structure was already a potential hiding place.

“It’s like the bloody fields,” Regaar said.

“A death beast in every hole,” Kresk said.

“Never been,” Henosk said.

“Shut up!” Takelos snapped. “You’re a blathering like a bunch of ale wives.”

“Quiet,” Senem said.

They covered fifty strides with their long legs when things fell apart.

“Takelos?” Senem called.

“Here.”

“Kresk?”

“H—”

There was a strangled gurgle.

“Ala—!”

Menolet's warning was a split-second too late. It wasn’t her fault. She reacted as quickly as possible for a cragant, but their species wasn’t one with supernatural-level perceptions and reaction time.

“Eyes in all directions!” Senem barked. “Regaar—”

“I’ve got him, decanus!” Regaar knelt down next to the flailing Kresk. “Hold still!”

Kresk was on his back and blood sprayed out of the cuts in his throat. Regaar clamped one beefy hand around the wound, while he kept the torch in his other hand up as high as he could.

“Decanus! I can’t keep the wound closed without choking him,” Regaar’s said.

“It’s mortal,” Menolet said without looking back. “Ease his passing.”

“Never!” Regaar growled.

“Where did it go?” Takelos’ voice was higher.

“A shadow that moved,” Menolet said. “I think… I can’t be certain.”

“Decanus, you’re orders,” Aurastra said.

Senem focused on the calm in his old friend’s voice. It pulled him back from the edge.

“Do we wait for reinforcements? Or do we continue?”

Something struck Senem then. “We haven’t received the horn calls acknowledging our own.”

“That’s— true,” Aurastra said.

“What’s that mean?” Henosk shouted.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Takelos’ voice shook.

“We should’ve received signals by now. From other patrols and from camp,” Senem said. A crushing realization fell on him like a rock slide. “This must be the enemies doing. They’ve somehow blocked our horn calls with their machinery.”

“Or the other patrols were wiped out,” Henosk said.

“That still doesn’t explain the silence from camp,” Aurastra said.

“What if they’ve been wiped out too?” Henosk paled.

“Don’t be stupid,” Aurastra snapped. “The enemy doesn’t have the ability to destroy an entire legion in one night. Besides, we’d have seen and heard evidence of fighting.”

“What if they’ve been hiding their true abilities this whole time, huh?” Henosk said. “They might have more of whatever the cursed thing killing us is!”

“Decanus,” Regaar’s voice was cold, flat. It silenced the others. “Kresk’s gone.” He closed Kresk’s eyes and placed a coin over each.

“We make for camp,” Senem said. “Stay together. We have the strength of the mountains.”

They didn’t make it ten steps before something small and black struck from the shadows between their torch lights.

Takelos cried out as she swung her sword at their enemy. The inky blur seemed to flow up her sword arm. It was too fast for anyone to react in time. The shadow zipped across her throat before seemingly melting away over her shoulder.

Cragant’s enormous bodies required large and powerful hearts to pump their blood. The blood spray from her opened throat shot out over a hundred feet into the black sky as she toppled to her back with a ground-shaking crash.

“Nooo!” Menolet roared and charged in the direction the shadow went.

“Wait! Stay in formation!”

Senem’s command fell on deaf ears.

Menolet’s rage had consumed her.

“I’ll get her,” Regaar said as he thundered off.

“Orders, decanus,” Aurastra said flatly.

“We don’t leave anyone behind,” Senem said. “Henosk, don’t lose that torch.” He dropped his own and drew his sword.

Menolet was a good soldier. She was an even better warrior. Her sword work was among the best in the 3rd Legion. She kept enough of her senses to stay within the light from Regaar’s torch despite the consuming rage and pain she felt at Takelos’ death.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye a bulging shadow against one of the tiny buildings. It struck her as off. Her instinct momentarily saved her. She struck a short, slashing cut across the most direct path a tiny enemy would take on the way to her throat.

She felt her sword impact something small, but with surprising weight. The shadow blurred back behind the structure into the darkness.

Menolet felt a cold grip seize her heart. She hadn’t seen it move. She had been lucky.

She felt something to her left and she raised her shield to cover her face. She felt the impact of something small and heavy. Her finely-trained instincts had saved her again.

The enemy was gone before she could attempt a counter stroke.

Sudden pain at the back of her leg made her cry out. As she turned and stepped her ankle gave out under her considerable weight. She was forced to one knee as the enemy continued to slash at the unarmored portions of her body.

Menolet’s desperately swung her sword as she tried to predict the enemy’s movements. She had made other cragant legionnaires feel like children on both the battlefield and the practice pit. It had been many years since she had been made to feel the same way.

To know that a tiny enemy was slowly killing her was more than she could bear.

Menolet screamed out.

“Hang on. I’m coming!” Regaar was too slow.

Menolet saw a black blur out of the corner of her eye. Something sparked across the narrow slits of her steel helmet. She didn’t register the sparks hitting her eyes. Something sharp plunged into her throat and wriggled, like hungry baby wyrms in an unfortunate bovinorus. It almost felt like it was drawing out her blood.

A curious thing.

Menolet’s thoughts drifted away. At least she died in battle with a powerful enemy. She would find Takelos in the next world.

Regaar shined the torch over the small, black-armored gray one as it crouched over Menolet with its arms deep in her throat. Her blood appeared to be drawn into its gauntlets.

The rumors were true.

Regaar couldn’t move as Menolet’s limbs moved weakly. Why wasn’t she fighting back?

The gray one’s black armor was covered in sharp blades and pointed spikes. It was like a blot on the landscape that seemed to suck in the surrounding darkness.

The gray one looked up at Regaar with eyes that shined red in the middle of the all-consuming shadowy darkness. He couldn’t make out specific features.

“Damn you,” Regaar whispered. He realized that it didn’t fear him. That’s why it wasn’t melting back into the shadows after it had taken its fill from the now dead Menolet.

Regaar bellowed and rushed forward. If he was to die this night then he would die in battle, facing his enemy. He would charge into the next world on his feet.

The gray one didn’t vanish or blur. It charged as well. It moved fast, but not as fast as it had been. Was it mocking him?

Regaar pulled back his torch arm for a might blow.

The gray one dashed quicker.

Regaar was caught off guard. He pulled his shield up to protect his neck at the same time as the gray one jumped on to it and scrambled up the metal. Its clawed fingers reached the top of his shield.

He got a look at the ferocious, devil-like mask of its helmet. Red eyes burned into his mind.

He felt fear like nothing before. So, he did as he tended when he was afraid. He hit back as hard as he could.

Regaar slammed his helmeted forehead into the gray one’s face.

The gray one was slammed off of Regaar’s shield like it was launched from a catapult. Its limbs flailed as it tumbled across the metallic street.

“Ha! Take that foul devil!” Regaar dropped his torch and drew his sword.

The gray one lay on the street with its limbs askew, some were bent in the wrong direction. Others were clearly broken.

Regaar had triumphed. He had brought the dreaded enemy down. He pictured the honor we would receive from the legion. The things he could purchase with the Universal Points. He took a step toward the fallen gray one.

It healed before Regaar’s eyes.

The cragant charged desperately.

The gray one was uninjured by his fifth step.

Regaar died on his knees.

That was how the last three legionnaires found him.

“Menolet? Regaar?”

“They’re dead, Senny,” Aurastra said. Her voice was a whisper. “You and Henosk get back to camp. I’ll hold it off.”

“No!” Senem snapped. “I’m not leaving anyone.”

“Decanus—” Henosk’s voice trembled.

“Calm yours—” The words died in Senem’s throat when he spun around.

Henosk’s head tilted back. His throat yawned wide open, strangely bloodless. The cragant fell flat on his back and remained still.

A black shadow grabbed Henosk’s torch and threw it far away.

Aurastra grabbed Senny by the arm and roughly pulled him back toward Regaar’s discarded torch. “Damn it, Senny! We need the light or we’re dead!”

Senem noticed that Aurastra’s sword was still in its sheath.

“Draw your weapon.”

“I’m better off with my gauntlets. It’s much too fast for me to catch it with a blade. Only chance is to get my hands on it and break it into pieces.”

“Listen, Senny. When I get my hands on it, you run.”

“You don’t give the orders, legionnaire!” Senem snapped.

“Sorry, but one of us has to get back to camp with word of what happened. Make our deaths mean something.”

“I ord—”

“Watch out!”

Aurastra shoved Senem to the side and threw a punch at where his neck was. A loud clang was the only indication that she connected with the enemy.

“Praise thick steel,” Aurastra muttered. She didn’t check her gauntlet. She trusted the forge work.

“Aura, wha—” Senem quickly got back on his feet.

“Keep the light on me, but not in my face,” Aurastra kicked Regaar’s torch over.

Senem sheathed his sword and picked it up.

“Damn it, Aura! We need to get out of here.”

“You will, just wait for the right moment.”

A black-armored form materialized at the edge of the torch light. The gray one was about as tall as the smallest cragant’s leg. Such a tiny thing, yet it had torn through Senem’s squad with shameful ease.

“May the mountains fall on you!” Aurastra roared.

The gray one dashed behind a structure to its left.

Aurastra threw her metal slab of a shield and wiped out a handful of the small structures. She charged behind it.

The gray one leapt out of the wreckage straight for Aurastra’s throat.

She jabbed out with surprising quickness for such a large humanoid.

The gray one wasn’t able to alter its trajectory.

A fist the size of its torso caught it right in the head and sent it flying.

Senem hurried to keep the torch light on the gray one. His hopes soared when he saw that the gray one was crumpled. They fell just as quickly when it healed before his eyes. Even the broken and bent armor reversed the damage.

“Impossible.”

“Curse it! I’ll have to grab it. When I do… I want you to run, Senny.”

“Not leaving you here,” Senem said flatly.

The gray one struck.

The cragants didn’t see it move.

It was nearly at Aurastra’s feet before she realized it. She kicked out.

The gray one slipped underneath the blow and slid between her legs.

Senem watched in horror as the black blur climbed up Aurastra’s back before plunging its hands and arms into both sides of his childhood friend’s neck.

Aurastra turned and looked into Senem’s eyes. He saw her wordless plea for him to flee.

She threw her self backward into the ground in a vain attempt to crush the gray one beneath her immense weight. Blood sprayed from both sides of her neck.

It told Senem that the gray one had moved out of the way.

There was nothing he could do, but watch Aurastra’s death throes. He placed the torch on top of the small structure next to him and drew his sword.

Senem charged to his death with a shout.

“Caretaker, this is Shira reporting in.”

Shira had waited for quite some time for the thrill of battle, the bloodlust to dissipate. They couldn’t speak properly when they were in that state. Caretaker would’ve detected any hint of a lack of control, which would’ve led to them being pulled back to base and another lecture.

“Acknowledged.” Caretaker’s voice came back over the comms.

“Four patrols eliminated.”

“Detection?”

“Negative. Frequency’s sound cancellation device functioned as projected. In each engagement the cragant’s signaled with their animal horn sound amplification device. There was no response from nearby patrols or the forward base.”

“I have reviewed your earlier recordings. Please continue to adhere to the task guidelines. We shall see if your actions succeed in drawing and spreading the cragant forces away from the base. We need to weaken their defenses before we can attempt the next task.”

“Acknowledged. I will gather my supplies and relocate to the next sector,” Shira said.

“Do not stay too long in the area. Projections indicate that the first patrol you destroyed will have been noticed by their base shortly.”

“Understood. The night ends in less than two hours. I will be hidden before then,” Shira said.

“Remember, Shira. Do not deviate from my guidelines. Self-control is the key to your continued exemplary performance. Your presence will be crucial to the ultimate Task.”

“And when will we attack the hierophant?”

“When we have gathered sufficient data for a plan with a high probability of success.”

“Acknowledged. Shira, out.”

They let slip with eagerness. A mistake. One Caretaker wouldn’t miss. Fortunately, their team leader didn’t recall them.

Shira would’ve been displeased by such action. They enjoyed the hunt.

The cragants were worthy foes. They were strong. More importantly, they were full of strong blood.

Shira was in their element. This is what they were meant to do. Of that there was no doubt. They were a hunter in the dark. The world was prey.

They had a thought. What if they attacked during the day? Wouldn’t that make for a greater challenge?

The cragant’s strength was on par with Shira’s.

Shira outstripped them by far in speed and quickness. Their ability to hide and blend with the shadows and darkness was what truly gave Shira an edge.

Shira decided that it was a moot point. If she attacked the cragants in the daylight then Caretaker would pull her back for violating their guidelines.

Shira didn’t want to lose the first task that she had found enjoyable in the course of the battle for Cold Plains City. Besides the more successful she was the more data that Caretaker received for their plans to kill the hierophant.

Once they killed the hierophant then they could target the cragant forces’ leadership. Kill enough and the enemy army would splinter and eventually fall.

Once that was done the team would be free to come to the aid of those at Orchestral Meridian.

Shira looked forward to that. The corrupted, the inheritors, Mother Madrigal. They sounded strong, powerful. If they had felled Honor then Shira would avenge him, while filling herself with their lifeblood.

Now, Earth

Bennett wanted out of the city. He had spent six weeks in enemy territory when he had figured on a night or two at worst. Now that he had more than enough information on the scions and the cult it was time to go. They were evil and everyone had to know.

He stood on the roof of an abandoned building, some kind of warehouse near the entrance to the Bay Bridge out of the city. Despite the distance he could see quite clearly that the checkpoint had been significantly beefed up. There were a lot of light towers and even more armed people.

He considered running up the cables to go over the people, but didn’t trust his ability to avoid getting shot and or falling into the water. Going under the bridge presented a similar problem with the added concern from being exposed to the water. He was convinced that there was something in the water. Every time he looked at it a sense of wrongness triggered a spike of fear. The Deep Azure was real. He just didn’t know what exact form it took.

The Bay Bridge was a no go. He’d have to try the Golden Gate Bridge, but he figured it was probably locked up just as tight.

Should he go south instead? There was another bridge. If that was also blocked then as a last resort he could keep going south and avoid crossing the water entirely.

It’d take him through San Jose and the surrounding cities. He had no idea what the situation was down there. Plus it’d add a lot of time to his travel. He wasn’t sure if he had enough blood supplies for a journey that’d take more than a single night. What if there were monsters?

Bennett despaired. Everywhere he thought to go there was a mortal threat to his continued existence. Cultists and fish people and monsters.

He decided to try the smaller bridge to the south.

Bennett turned and walked to the other side of the roof. The next thing he knew he was crashing through the skylight into the warehouse. He was dimly aware that there had been a muffled bang.

Bennett groaned as he rolled over and sat up. There was a dull throbbing sensation in his left shoulder area. His fingers came away wet with blood. His blood. Someone shot him.

It hurt, but not as bad as he imagined being shot felt like.

He took a blood bag from his small insulated bag around his waist and drained it. He felt the hole in his shoulder close over the next few seconds. He drank another bag empty. They knew he was there, which meant—.

“Knew I smelled something sterile and bloody.”

Bennett didn’t recognized the face, but he recalled the voice. It was the young woman he had first encountered on his first night in the city.

She stepped into the moonlight shining through the broken skylight.

Bennett finally got a good look at her face. She was Asian and pretty. She wore a tank top and ripped up jeans.

“You’re not getting away from me this time.”

The young woman transformed before his eyes. Hair or fur appeared on her bared skin. Her teeth lengthened and sharpened. Her fingers grew longer, while her finger nails thickened and became pointier. Her eyes shined in the moonlight.

The walkie-talkie on the young woman’s belt crackled.

“Rino, come in, over.”

Bennett kept silent. He played injured while he figured out what to do. He could slip down through the shadow to the level below, but he didn’t know where the rest of this so-called pack of weredogs.

“Fuck!” She snatched the walkie-talkie up. “You just gave him my name, Chance. Stupid asshole!”

“Just keep him there. We’re on our way, over.” Chance’s voice crackled back.

Rino and Chance. Bennett filed the information away.

The rest were on their way, which suggested that they weren’t in the warehouse.

Bennett slipped into the shadows on the floor.

“Hey! Shi—”

Bennett didn’t stop until he was on the ground floor. He slipped the backpack filled with crucial information over both his shoulders and tightened the straps. He burst out of the warehouse into the open at a run.

The skies were clear. The moon and the stars made the night as bright as the day when viewed through Bennett’s superior vision. He felt a pang when he realized that this was as close as he was going to ever get to reliving the day light hours from before he was transformed by the spires.

He headed south down the street. Only to be met by a big white dog.

Well, big was an understatement. It reminded Bennett of the wolves he had seen at the zoo in terms of size.

The dog had patches of dark brown or black on its body and one patch on the side of its thick, blocky head. Its bark was deep and booming.

Two more dogs appeared from in between the buildings on both of Bennett’s flanks.

One was a golden retriever and the other was a Scottish terrier. Both appeared to be significantly larger than the norms indicated in the dog guide Bennett had received from the resistance.

The big white one was the American bulldog, which meant the Akita must’ve been the young Japanese woman, Rino.

“Weredogs,” Bennett muttered. “This is bullshit.”

He heard an angry snarl from behind. It was Rino in dog form. Just as ridiculously large as the others.

Bennett was full of regret. He regretted staying so long. He regretted not learning to fight.

Bennett was also full of blood. There was a gap ahead of him. In between the big, scary white dog and the big, scary golden dog. He hit it at close to fifty miles an hour.

He felt the wind of jaws snapping just behind his ankles and he was in the clear.

Bennett didn’t dare look back. He heard the barks and the clatter of nails on the asphalt.

The pack kept pace.