Free The Blasted Lands by James A. Moore Page B

impossible to see at first, but hearing them was easy. The sounds of metal and men joined together in a loud tidal roar, but that was nothing to the sounds clashing for attention. The noises were unsettling, alien, and made Nolan’s skin crawl with distaste. There were low growls and higher sounds, a keening noise that barely made sense to his ears.
    The lines of men that bordered the road began to falter and spear tips that had been raised high wavered and then dropped as something came closer. Whatever that something was, the spears were attacking, doing their best to pin it in place.
    A vast shape took to the air for just a moment. A blur of dark fur, darker leathers and metal and unless he was mistaken there was a person atop that lunging, flailing insanity. Yes, he saw an axe coming down even as the massive thing yielded to gravity. Several spears went sailing in the wrong direction, their points falling like saplings in a sudden flood. But more weapons went in the right direction and a moment later the roars and screams of the furred nightmare were faltering and then dying completely.
    Ahead of them, along the line, soldiers screamed and broke ranks, unsettled by whatever it was they were seeing. The squad leaders called out for order and a small handful began listening, drawing back into the proper ranks, but some did not pay heed too enthralled by what they were seeing, apparently.
    Darus shook his head. “Can’t see a damned thing.”
    Nolan was about to agree when the shape came through the ranks. It was low-slung and charged across the ground, roaring and swinging clawed front limbs that slapped people aside with too much ease. There was indeed a man riding on the beast’s back, but he was dead near as Nolan could tell. The man’s skin was gray and his body sagged to one side, flopping and flailing with each move of the creature. Soldiers screamed as they were hurled through the air, broken and bleeding. Some only staggered a few feet, but a few truly unfortunate souls were thrown twenty feet or more with a single sweep of the monster’s limbs.
    Nolan backed up and looked for a better access point. Darus moved with him, looking for a moment as if he planned to run away. But that wouldn’t happen. The punishment for running from combat was death and they all knew it.
    There were few people from the north who couldn’t climb a tree. Trecharch and the surrounding areas had trees that practically begged to be climbed, and so Nolan resorted to older skills, found the best looking tree for the job and scampered up as quickly as he could. Flinching a couple of times when his equipment tried to snag itself on a branch of catch on the rough bark.
    Not far away the soldiers he’d trained with were scattering, giving more room to whatever the hell they were fighting and he saw them for the first time. The great furred nightmare he’d seen was down, killed by the footmen. Easily a dozen of them had gone down in the process, but they had taken man and mount alike.
    Moving over those remains, demons from the worst kind of nightmares charged, slashing at the soldiers too close to the. The attackers moved quickly, but they were not faster than the eye.
    What he’d thought was one enormous attacker was actually several. From above he could see the breaks in the forms that were close together and pushing along the same path. The large shapes could easily have broken away from each other and moved through the entire area, but they stayed stubbornly on the road and they continued to follow the path even when the foot soldiers and cavalry were in their way. Horses and riders were knocked aside and torn apart if they got too close. Any men standing nearby when the odd shapes got closer were slapped away or violently attacked. As he observed, one of the shambling things reached out and yanked a man into its embrace. Within a heartbeat’s span the captured soldier was screaming and dying. As he died four of the spearmen