Stench from the South Pt. 02

"How often does that happen?"

"Not particularly often, Balthus, not often at all. But...well, I struggle to think of any other force which would allow a vessel without a jaw or forearm to function-much less one that would also drive said vessel to commit acts of wanton murder and cannibalism."

"They would have devoured us. I know it in my heart," Balthus said quietly as the first drops of a fresh rain began to fall upon them. He did not add anything else, letting the silence linger as the two vampires stared at him, then glanced at one another.

"Yes," Jakobus said softly, nodding, "the pieces of the puzzle certainly seem to fit together that way."

"So you don't believe that magic was at play back there," Balthus said. The vampire shook his head.

"I cannot be certain of anything until I have had the time to study them thoroughly for myself," said Jakobus, "but...no, I don't believe so. There is something else at work here, I believe."

"You know this means that their numbers are greater, their influence more widespread than we'd expected," Balthus said, glancing about worriedly.

"Hopefully the hinges on that man door hold," said Mattison grimly.

"We can only hope," Balthus replied, "because I sure didn't like the way the entire gate bulged out when they all slammed into it at once. You heard the moans upon the wind, though, the ones we heard out near the wolf's carcass-there are more of them out there. A lot more, I'm willing to bet."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Stop being insolent for once, Mattison! Not everything that people say to you is meant as an insult! Jakobus, keep thinking on it; if you happen to remember something that might explain what's happening-anything at all-tell us immediately! And we'll need to be more vigilant than ever from here on out. If either of you see something, anything at all that looks suspicious or out-of-place, speak up!"

Jakobus nodded solemnly, then turned to mount his horse. Mattison sighed and did the same. In a flash, Balthus was astride Halberd, and they all broke out into a rapid trot at the same time.

"The village of Stonecairn Hollow is some miles away! We might have better luck there!"

"I hope so," Mattison replied to his Master, "because I don't relish the idea of sleeping in the open, now that I've seen what we're up against!"

"I agree," Balthus called out over the thundering of their horses' hooves, "we should take shelter there if at all possible!"

"Would those people really have eaten us alive, Balthus?" Mattison's voice was not sarcastic, but urgent. The Captain did not answer. He only shot Mattison a worried look, then pulled the hood of his travel cloak over his head as they thundered south along the winding stones of the Kingsway, the surrounding forests somehow seeming even closer, darker, and more ominous than they ever had before.

*****

Only a few miles to Stonecairn Hollow, Balthus had been telling himself just before they'd found the cabin. Just a few miles to go until we find out if the people of that quiet, sleepy hamlet have been turned into mindless killing machines as well. He'd been trying to avoid thinking about it all the while, but what else could he do after all he'd seen? Would all of Nocturne be like this? Would Grayspire too be a colossal, walled-off city packed to the brim with flesh-eating lunatics bent on consuming everything from wolves to farmhands? Balthus certainly didn't like many of the possible answers that he'd come up with on his own so far.

The path they'd discovered led off to the right, a simple packed dirt trail wide enough to accommodate a moderately-sized cart or maybe a few horses. It was low-profile, and they might have missed it altogether had their heads not been on swivels all the time. It was Jakobus who saw it first, and made the suggestion.

"Look there," the vampire said, giving his horse's reins a gentle tug and calling out "woah!" The others slowed and came to a stop at its' opening beside Jakobus, the Mage peering down the stretch of damp pathway.

"What do those vampire eyes see?" Balthus was only half-joking.

"Nothing yet. It curves to the right, and the timbers block my view."

"Why are we stopped, Master?"

"Because I think now that we ought not charge into Stonecairn Hollow head-on," he replied, glancing at his apprentice, "nor any other town or village we pass through. I admit that I was brash when I advised we should head there immediately; there could be hordes of these crazed folk packed into every building, for all we know. We ought to do some information gathering first, and I wonder if there might be someone at the end of this path who might be able to tell us about what we'll find up ahead. I think now that that would be the wisest course of action, at any rate. Do you agree, Captain?"

Balthus rubbed the side of his head through his hood. "Well, I do worry that one of us might end up walking into an arrow or a bolt from a frightened homeowner for our trouble, but...well, that still seems less risky than strolling into Stonecairn Hollow without knowing what might be waiting for us. It's likely that anyone here would be close enough to the village to know what it's like. All right then, it's settled-but I'll take point; you two stay behind me, and for the sake of all that's good, keep your eyes and ears open! Jakobus, have your staff at the ready just in case."

"It would take far more than a few arrows to put myself or my Master down, Balthus. Of that you can be certain."

"And I'm thrilled for you, Mattison. By the way, where's your staff?"

The assistant grinned and held up his right hand with his palm facing inward, splaying his fingers apart. Upon closer inspection, Balthus noticed that the lad was wearing a ring on his middle finger made of finely-figured dark metal. In its' center was set an odd gemstone, red of hue like a ruby. However, this stone was much darker than any ruby he'd ever seen before, and it seemed almost to glow with a faint, sinister light that he wasn't sure he liked.

"My conduit stays on my person all the time, Captain-because, in truth, it doesn't actually 'have' to be a staff. That's dragon's blood encased in clear crystal-potent and powerful stuff, to be sure. Should there be need to shock anyone to a crisp or burn a building to ash, this ring will certainly be able to oblige."

"Just don't roast anyone before I've had a chance to try and talk them down, Mattison," Balthus grumbled before giving Halberd a quick 'tsk tsk'. He set down the path at the head of his small party, the pair of vampires quickly falling into line behind them. Jakobus held his staff by his side while his fingers loosely held the reins, while his other hand rested upon the long, intimidating dagger which hung upon his belt. Balthus kept one hand on his own reins and the other on his sword as they made their way down the path, the trees seeming to close in with every passing step. Any moment, he thought, some terror will reach out from behind a redwood or beech and snatch one of us up...

Then, the scream-unmistakable and piercing as a steel arrowhead-met their ears. It was coming from up ahead, this they knew, but its' source was obscured to them due to the rightward bend in the path ahead. It had sounded like a woman, or perhaps an older girl, but whatever the case might have been, she was clearly in dire distress. Balthus looked back at Jakobus, whose eyes were also alight with alarm and concern. Without saying a word, Balthus looked ahead again and fought back the urge to simply charge forward. If there was danger up ahead, it would not do to lose the element of surprise right off the bat.

They made their way around the bend, sticking to the shadows beneath the trees along the sides of the path so that they might improve their chances of not being seen immediately-though in truth, none of them particularly believed that it would do much to help. A structure came immediately into view up ahead. It was a two-story home, built in a log cabin style similar to many of the structures one would find in Elksmore and many other towns or villages throughout Nocturne. Comprised of expertly interconnected redwood logs that had been lashed together with coated steel bands similar to those which bound the walls of Elksmore together, it should have looked to the newcomers a charmingly rustic and homely sight. But luck had decreed otherwise, and they were met instead by the sight of no less than a dozen human figures, pale as days-old corpses, lining the place's front porch. The sound of moaning was clear now, sending a chill washing over Balthus' skin.

He noticed that the two windows which flanked the front door had been crudely boarded over from the inside, the figures piling on top of each other as they slammed their bare hands against the improvised barricades without pause. Their fingers and lips pushed into the seams between the planks, the teeth within their snapping jaws determined to sink into and taste the flesh of a victim. Like the ones Balthus and his companions had seen in Elksmore, these people too were clad in dirty and tattered clothing that had clearly gone unwashed for many days on end, and many sported wounds that should have proven crippling or fatal. One woman-short, stout, and black of hair-was missing an arm, but the other was pulling at the boards over the left-hand side window as if the loss of its' companion were of no concern at all. Another man was absolutely covered with horrifying burns, the kind that would've easily killed a normal person; Balthus even swore that he could see portions of the man's spinal column poking through the charred and mutilated skin on his back. He stood naked from head to toe, ensuring that his grievous injuries were on full display for Balthus and his companions to see.

Suddenly there came a crash, as one of the madmen managed to break through one of the weaker planks over the right-hand side window, the pieces falling inwards as the attacker's grasping hands slithered through the newly-formed opening. There came another scream from inside-it sounded as if it were coming from the same woman as before-followed by more voices, yelling unintelligibly as the moans and howls of the maniacs on the porch grew even louder.

"Captain!" Mattison's hiss was hardly audible over the commotion. "Captain, what do we do?!"

Balthus made the decision in that very moment. He glanced back at his companions for a split second before reaching down with his right hand and pulling his longsword from its' sheath.

"Be ready to provide cover, both of you!"

He called out, "yah!" and Halberd surged forward. Jakobus and Mattison did the same, and in only a few seconds they had already crossed the remaining length of the path, the hooves of their horses thundering beneath their riders' feet. The crazed people heard the steady rumble of the hooves and slowly, unsteadily, they began to pull themselves away from the windows, their blank and milky eyes turning to observe the new threat. They showed no fear or even any hint of apprehension at the prospect of facing down three armed and dangerous men on horseback. Instead, they only raised their pale, mutilated arms and dropped their jaws open to moan and howl as they began to shamble and stumble off of the porch, one of them losing her footing and falling face-down into a patch of mud, where she began slowly writhing in an effort to right herself.

Sword held high in a strike-ready position, Balthus gauged the distance of the closest man. With the right timing, he knew he could sever the man's arm at the very least, or perhaps his head if his aim held true. None of them had weapons, but he knew he'd need to stay out of reach of their grasping hands and fingers, or they might pull him off his horse and into their waiting maws.

"Come on!" Balthus shouted as he closed the distance. "Come on!"

Balthus would later admit to himself that this particular plan could have perhaps used a few more minutes' worth of consideration, but there were people who needed to be saved. In the Captain's defense, however, he could not have foreseen a factor such as Halberd suddenly losing his nerve entirely. As the beast came upon the small croup of lunatics, he suddenly twisted around and cried out in terror, whinnying and stamping as he attempted to turn away from Balthus' intended targets. Balthus cried out and tried to correct Halberd, but the horse simply was not having it.

Now, Halberd was-as Balthus had always been proud to point out-the bravest, stoutest, and most loyal steed he'd ever met. They were, and always had been, a pair, going together like a hand in a glove. Nothing had ever fazed Halberd before-not bandits, not beasts, not anything that had ever dared challenge them before. He'd trampled many a would-be attacker beneath his powerful forelegs, proving himself very nearly as dangerous in a fight as his rider over the course of many a mission. Apparently, though, something about these people was different; something which set his mighty heart alight with confusion, revulsion and terror. Balthus was not alone in this moment, though; had he been paying attention, he would have observed Jakobus and Mattison also struggling to regain command over their own panicking steeds. Understandably, however, his mind was elsewhere, occupied with other, more pressing matters-just before he was thrown from his saddle and cruelly reunited with the Earth. After that, his world went dark and he knew no more.

*****

Shouting. Muffled shouting, and a deafening 'crack', followed by dissonant howls that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The sight of the sky above came back to him, his whole world blurry and out-of-focus as he blinked, trying to regain his senses. Almost immediately, he heard someone crying out his name.

"Crick! CRICK! BALTHUS, GET UP!"

The face of the auburn-haired, pale-faced Mage's assistant hovered over him now, his hands on Balthus' shoulders. He was shaking the Captain vigorously, trying to bring him back around. Balthus noticed for the first time since he'd met Mattison that his eyes were wide, worried, and fearful. And to think, some people once believed that vampires experienced no emotions at all...

"Captain, please-!"

Balthus was on his feet again without saying a word, looking around for his sword as Mattison, his face awash with relief, went back to assist his Master. Another quick glance of the area told him two things: firstly, that the horses were all gone-not just Halberd-and secondly, that several of the freakish people who had been assaulting the house were only feet away from him, their arms raised and their mouths hanging open grotesquely as they moaned and howled, their collective gaze locked onto him.

His was only just too far from the sword. He wouldn't reach it before the first one had him in his pale, grasping fingers-

CRACK!

From the right came a blinding flash of light that Balthus realized crazily only a second later had been a small bolt of lightning. It struck the closest man on the shoulder and sent him flying, the sheer force knocking him several feet into the air and away from the Captain, where he landed hard on the packed earth. Balthus blinked a few times and looked over to see Jakobus, staff and dagger in hand as he landed a vicious kick to the solar plexus of a teenaged girl who had just reached him. She too flew back and tumbled over, her moans unceasing as she impacted brutally against the hard dirt.

"Gentlemen, we have work to do!"

And so, the fight was on.

Balthus pulled his knife and lunged toward his sword, plucking it from the dirt with practiced precision. Another series of cracks as Jakobus sent a pair of lightning spells into a group of four assailants, stumbling a few and knocking the others over. Mattison held his ring hand aloft and formed a ball of flame within his fingers, then deftly tossed it underhand at the dark-haired, one-armed woman. It hit her square in the chest, knocking her onto her back. Balthus turned to see the man whom Jakobus had sent flying before already on his feet and stumbling right toward him, as if he were completely unaware of what had only just happened to him. His teeth, stained and broken, were bared from beneath cracked and ruined lips as he lurched forward.

Balthus was ready this time, and thrust his blade into the space just above where the man's collarbones met. The finely-honed steel pierced the man's flesh like butter, impaling him upon its' length like a piece of meat on a M'zaeran shishkebab. Dark blood immediately poured from the wound and down the remainder of the exposed blade, pooling within the fuller and dripping from the edges. Balthus felt the blow sever tissue, throat, and bone; in that moment he had expected the man to go limp and simply die right there, whereupon he would pull his blade free and engage the next unlucky attacker, but this fight would not be so simple.

Instead, the man's hands immediately shot forward and pawed greedily at Balthus' neck and head, his groping fingers searching for purchase. They found it immediately, and his hands tightened like a pair of steel clamps upon the Captain's neck and hair. He was shockingly strong for what appeared to be an entirely average-looking man; where was it coming from? The crazed assailant, still unconcerned with the fact that he was currently being skewered, pulled himself further along the length of the blade, his flesh making a sickening squelching sound against the hard steel. His howling was deafening now, the sound filling the Captain's ears as he pulled his victim toward his filthy, broken maw. It stank, Balthus thought crazily, of rotten flesh.

Balthus managed to snap out of his shocked trance just in time, though, emulating Jakobus by delivering a swift, devastating kick to his assailant, his boot landing in the man's soft gut. The attacker's grip loosened just enough for Balthus to jerk free, the backward force of the man falling away enough to pull the sword free of its' flesh prison (in addition to a small chunk of Balthus' hair being pulled from his scalp, judging by the burning pain now pulsing through the top of his head). The man landed flat on his back, and Balthus turned quickly to check on his companions. Jakobus was casting spectacular lightning spells and delivering vicious blows with his long dagger in turn, stumbling and knocking back his attackers all the time. Mattison, now clearly in his element, was deftly summoning fireball after fireball, bowling his attackers over almost as quickly as his Master was. Cracking and booming sounds filled the air around the cabin as their combined magicks found their marks, but Balthus realized with growing confusion and terror that none of seemed to be having any real effect. Every time the attackers were thrown asunder, whether by spell or by physical blow, they merely got back up and returned to the fray, seemingly in spite of their newly-inflicted injuries. Powerful as the three of them were, as potent a combat force as they represented, they couldn't keep this fight up forever. Even a vampire would tire eventually, after all...

Two more of the assailants had abandoned the attack on the Mage and his assistant, and had instead taken an interest in Balthus. While they stumbled toward him, arms outstretched and mouths snapping crazily, Balthus managed to take a breath. He concentrated, picking a target-a middle-aged man with only a few patches of stringy, filthy hair hanging from his head and missing his left eye-as he was within range, and would be easy enough to fake out. As the man made his final lurch forward, Balthus swiftly ducked down and spun gracefully off to the left, slashing down at an angle with his longsword. The blow landed exactly where he'd expected it to: just below the man's right knee. There came a sickening, metallic 'splut!' sound, and the man's lower leg was severed entirely. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, still trying to pull himself around and continue his pursuit. Balthus felt, in that moment, as if he were losing his mind. What must be done to stop these people?! If impalement, incineration, and loss of entire limbs wouldn't do the job, then what would?