Wolf Riders, Part 7

Frey looked at Krisvel, although his cheeks were in shadow, he saw a tear shine. Their faces were very close to each other. Behind them, the wisps of mist rising from the river's surface had thickened rapidly, and they could barely see the water. Krisvel moved closer to the powerful figure of Frey.

"If he hadn't come this far, he wouldn't have met you."

They kissed awkwardly, tentatively, barely touching lips. Then, Frey bent down to take her long hair in her hands. They leaned toward each other again, embracing more greedily as the second kiss deepened. Passionate, hands began to travel and explore the other's body over the thick layer of cloth that covered Krisvel's body and the robust plate armor that Frey possessed.

They leaned in too far, and Krisvel gave a little exclamation as they fell from the trunk of the tree and sprawled on the soft, damp earth.

"My armor and cloak are muddy." Frei said.

"Perhaps it would be better if you took it off. We could lie on your cape and my cloak, because the ground is wet."

Beneath the shadows of the deadly mountains, sheltered by mist and illuminated by moonlight, they made love.

♦ ♦ ♦

"Where have you been, Frey, and why do you look so pleased with yourself?" Elysia inquired sullenly.

"Next to the river." Frey replied innocently. "Walking."

"You have chosen a bad night to go out for a walk." Elysia replied at the same time that she raised a thin eyebrow. "Look at how the fog is thickening. It is not natural."

Elysia felt her fear seep into her bones, and her right hand rested involuntarily on the hilt of her sword. She suddenly remembered the mist that covered the wastelands surrounding the Circle of Stones a few weeks ago, and what that mist hid. And she looked over her shoulder into the darkness.

"If you're right." Home Frey "We should tell Dieter and the baron."

"I have already informed the baron's master-at-arms, and they have doubled their guard. It's the only thing they're willing to do."

"And what are we going to do?"

"It's my turn to get some sleep, Frey. It's your turn to stand guard."

Elysia lay down in the back of the wagon, on some sacks of grain, and wrapped her cloak tightly around her. The mist continued to thicken and muffled all sounds except Frey's restless breathing.

When Elysia finally managed to sleep, she had gloomy nightmares in which the dead rose from their graves.

♦ ♦ ♦

In the distance, a horse neighed uneasily, and a huge hand pressed against Elysia's mouth. She fought furiously using her claws as she wondered if Lars had come looking for revenge.

"Shut up, cat girl! Something is coming. Don't make the slightest noise."

Elysia, in a daze, came fully awake. Her eyes were dry and tired, and her muscles ached from sleeping on the grain sacks. She felt exhausted and without energy.

"What is it, Frey?" she asked her quietly, but Frey gestured her to be quiet while she sniffed the air.

"Whatever it is, it's been dead a long time."

Elysia shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her body. She felt fear start to churn in the pit of her stomach, and as the meaning of Frey's words became fully apparent, she had to fight to suppress the terror that washed over her.

She peered out into the mist that covered the land and blocked vision beyond a spear's length. Straining her senses to the max, she could barely make out the wagon in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder, afraid that some ghastly figure from the shadows might creep up behind her.

His heartbeat sounded like a rumble in his ears as she remembered Manfred's words. He imagined bony hands reaching out to grab her and carry her away into a deep dark grave. Her muscles felt as if they had frozen, and he had to force them to move in order to bring his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"I'm going to take a look around. If there is any enemy, I will take the Tank Role, you take care of protecting Krisvel." Frey whispered, and before Elysia could argue with that decision or follow him, Frey quietly stepped down from the carriage and vanished into the surrounding darkness.

At that moment, she felt completely alone. It was like waking up from a nightmare to find herself in an even worse one. She was isolated in the dark, dank mist, and she knew that just out of range of her perception lurked ravenous, fearsome creatures. Her sixth sense told her that it was, and that stepping away from the carriage meant death.

And yet, as Frey had said, Krisvel was out there, sleeping in Mrs. Winter's wagon. She imagined her lying there as an immeasurable force slammed into the door and the wood sagged inward to reveal…

She drew her weapon and jumped out. The thud of her feet seemed to him as loud as the tolling of a bell; her senses were extremely heightened by fear. He strained to make out details as he made his way around the outer circle of carts to where he knew Krisvel was.

Each step seemed to take forever, and she cast wary glances around her for fear that something would sneak up behind her. She described detours around the deep shadow areas. She wanted to scream with all her might to alert the camp, but her survival instincts prevented her from doing so. If she screamed, she drew the attention of the dire onlookers…and that would mean death.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, and Elysia raised her sword. Her heart jumped into her throat, until she noticed that the figure was covered in leather armor and a metal helmet. "A guard." she thought to herself, and relaxed. But when the figure turned, Elysia nearly screamed.

The face was devoid of flesh, and the silvery light of the moon was lost in the empty sockets of its eyes. Age-gnawed teeth smirked at her from the lipless mouth, and then she saw that the helmet she had originally mistaken for a guard's was bronze, covered in verdigris, and etched with runes that surely betrayed its existence. It was a piece of magical armor. From the creature's tattered tunic and cloak, she caught a stench of mold and rotting leather.

As her figure swung at him with her rusty weapon, Ella Elysia stood for a moment motionless; then, reflexively, she pulled away from her hastily to her side. The thing's sword cut lightly across her ribs, and her pain seared her flank. She then noticed in the movement of the ancient tendons that showed under the paper-thin skin of the hand that held the weapon, and she countered with a blow aimed at her neck. She was able to move her body thanks to the training received by Frey, even though her mind was in horror.

The blade pierced the creature's slender neck, and several vertebrae cracked. Her second blow slashed across her chest like a butcher's cleaver through her bone. The warrior from beyond the grave fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

As if Elysia's blows had been a signal, the night was filled with moving figures. She heard the crack of splitting wood and the cries of terror from the animals, as if a spell holding them mute had been broken. At some other point, Frey bellowed into the night her war cry.

Elysia ran through the mist and nearly bumped into Dieter as he stepped out of a wagon. He was fully clothed and clutching a large axe.

"What is happening?" she asked her yelling over the din of screams.

"They attack us… They are undead." Elysia replied, and the words left her lips in ragged gasps.

"Enemies!" Dieter yelled. "To the weapons!"

He uttered a war cry akin to a wolf's howl, and a few weak responses came from the surroundings.

Elysia decided to make a dash for Krisvel's quarters, but figures stepped out of the shadows between two chariots, stabbing at her with long, curved swords. She dodged one to the side and parried the other with her sword. Immediately, two new skeletal creatures gave him impudent smiles. She flung her sword at the leg of one, and it fell the moment the edge pierced her knee.

Mind numb with terror, Elysua fought instinctively; she jumped over the weapon with which the being that was prone on the ground was attacking her, and then she nailed a blow with her heel and broke its spine. Almost in unison, she traded sword blows with the other, until she finally cut him to pieces.

She then saw that two of those monsters were smashing the door of Mrs. Winter's wagon, exactly as she had feared they would. From inside her came the sound of a chant that she assumed was a prayer, and she prepared to charge, but her eyes were dazzled by a sudden blue flash. Behind the lightning strikes, a powerful smell of ozone filled the air, overpowering even the stench of rot. When she could see again, the remains of the two skeletal monsters were lying on the steps of the wagon.

In the doorway stood Mrs. Winter, calm and unruffled, her left hand encircled by a halo while her index finger released a few light girls. She looked at Elysia and gave her an encouraging nod.

Behind the sorceress, a mute Krisvel pointed over Elysia's shoulder. She turned to find a dozen undead before her, bearing down on her. At the same time, she heard Dieter and his men running to meet the warriors from beyond the grave, so she joined the charge.

For the catgirl, the night then turned into tumultuous chaos as she hacked her way through the camp in search of Frey. At one point, the mist thinned, and she pushed trembling children under a cart away from the bodies of their dead parents. The man lay dressed in a nightshirt, and the woman, near him, gripped a broom handle like a spear.

Elysia heard a noise and turned to face a gigantic warrior from beyond the grave, who was on top of her. Somehow, she survived the attack.

Dieter and Elysia fought back to back, until they found themselves in a pile of bones crumbling to dust. Then the battle receded from the catgirl as the mist thickened again, and for a moment she found herself alone and surrounded by the piercing screams of the dying.

Then a passing figure attacked her, and they exchanged blows. Suddenly Elysia saw that it was Lars. He wore a frozen smile, revealing the holes of his missing teeth, and foamed at the mouth with terror. Frantic, the man lashed out at Elysia, for he had gone mad with fear.

"Damn whore!" she gasped as she unleashed a sword strike that would have brought down a tree.

The catgirl ducked to let the weapon pass her and delivered a sweeping thrust that pierced the hunter's heart. Lars sobbed as he died, and Elysia wondered just how mad the man had really gone. If the hunter had killed Elysia, her death could have been attributed to the attackers. Then she returned to the fray.

Turning a corner, she was met by a score of warriors from beyond the grave being pushed back by the furious thrust of Frey's greatsword. Suddenly, after a few flashes, the area around him was empty. She turned her head to look for Mrs. Winter to thank her, but the woman had vanished into the mist. When she looked forward, she saw Frey stunned but still maintaining his composure.

Sometime before dawn, the raiders fell back into the hills, leaving Baron Von Deyl's warriors staring at ruined carriages and corpses.