Free The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

gait. Ren grabbed the reins just in time to avoid plunging over the cliff edge. The wagon turned east and sped out of sight with the banshee following fast behind.
    Brock ran over to help Hank. The man lay on his stomach; his head twisted an odd way. He rolled Hank over. His stomach turned upon seeing the entire left side of Hank ’ s face gone. Raw pink and red flesh clung to the man ’ s skull. His left eye dangled from the socket and the man ’ s body twitched before becoming still.
    Something inside Brock broke. How could this happen? This was not supposed to happen. He had to do something to make it right. He closed his eyes in frustration, the rune hovering in his vision.
    His eyes flashed open to stare at his hand, full of Hank ’ s blood. In a move of bizarre intuition, he began to draw the rune from his vision onto the remaining side of the man ’ s forehead.
    Horrified, Tipper screamed. “ Brock, what are you doing? The man is dead! We have to get out of here! ”
    Brock ignored him. He concentrated on the symbol, drawing it clean and exact.
    He closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the rune he had drawn. Filled with fear and anger, he felt another energy, a heat just beyond the grasp of his mind. He mentally reached for it, thinking it was Hank ’ s life force. He pulled at it, feeling the heat grow. Suddenly, his body was flush with energy as a storming tempest raged within. His body felt alive, but with too much life as if he would explode. He opened his eyes and poured the energy into the rune he had drawn on Hank. The energy expelled as rapidly as it had come on, leaving him cold and tired.
    Brock pulled his hand away, watching the rune as it glowed a bright, angry red. It pulsed before the glow began to fade.
    A terrifying wail broke his focus. A second wail followed, growing louder. The banshee was returning.
    Brock scrambled to his feet, backing from the entrance to the alcove. They were trapped with no other way out.
    Hank ’ s body suddenly twitched and convulsed. The torn and bloody remains of Hank began to rise. In jerking motions, Hank came back to his feet. Hank ’ s remaining eye looked at Brock, the pupil now glowing red. Bits and pieces of flesh were hanging from the other side of the man ’ s face, his torn-out eye swinging as it dangled. The sight was even more horrifying than the banshee. Brock stepped backward, away from what was once Hank.
    “ What have you done? ” Tipper whispered.
    Brock just stared, shaking his head. This is not what he wanted. This is not what was supposed to happen.
    Hank turned shambled toward the road. The banshee re-appeared and blasted another horrible wail.
    Hank attacked the banshee. As he came at the monster, it swung its huge arm and caught Hank in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the roadway and nearly over the cliff. The banshee wailed and lumbered forward. Hank stood to face the beast, his left arm hanging limply, shoulder torn wide open.
    Again, the banshee swung at Hank. Hank spun into the swing, latching onto its arm.
    While the banshee was huge, it appeared uncoordinated. The weight of a full-grown man at the end of its long arm pulled it off balance. It took a step, teetered for a second, and disappeared over the edge with Hank still latched on. A screeching wail followed, becoming more faint as the distance grew until it suddenly cut off.
    Brock and Tipper ran to the edge to see what had become of the two horrifying creatures. All they could see was the dark water of the river far below.
    Shocked by what had happened, they slowly walked back to the camp. They each sat on a rock near the coals of the now dormant fire. After a few minutes of silence, Brock spoke.
    “ Tip, we can never speak of what happened here. I don ’ t understand it myself, but I don ’ t want to even think about it again. ”
    Tipper ’ s response was a weak nod.
    Brock grabbed his pack and stood. “ Let ’ s leave this place. I can ’ t sleep here any longer