Fifthwind (23 page)

The
pale moon lit a cascade of light snowfall like diamond dust on the
night air. On a distant hilltop, silhouetted against the silvery
night stood Babbitt's tower. The Temple of the Two Sisters rose high
above all else as the tallest structure in Kishell Springs. Between
his current vantage point and that tower laid an eerie collection of
abandoned homes and shops.

The
cold air did not touch his absent body and he found it easy to
maintain his focus without the distractions of the wind and snow
against his skin. He was an invisible observer drifting on the wind,
able to see, but unable to touch or feel the world outside the Masked
Pig. He settled down onto the snow, but his ghostly feet left no
prints. He scanned the streets and alleys before him for any sign of
what he had sensed.

It
did not take long before he caught sight of movement rapidly coming
down the main northern path. He concentrated on that movement and was
horrified at what he saw. His heart sank like a stone in a well.

‘Run!'
he shouted, but his words fell silent on the still night air. Only
those sitting around the table in the Masked Pig could hear him.

The
small girl was barefoot and freezing as she ran as fast as she could
through the snow toward the inn. Safety was several hundred yards
away... another world away. Behind her was a mob of terrible beasts
gaining on her rapidly. She was not going to make it.

The
creatures ran hunched over and with an irregular, shuffling gate.
They snorted and growled and flashed their teeth like wild beasts,
but behind their hideous yellow eyes was a frightening intelligence;
a twisted hate. Equipped with patchwork armor and grossly familiar
blades, the sight of the Murg brought Ben back to that day at Tad's
cottage. That brutal slaying had haunted his dreams for weeks and now
he was to witness the likes of it again. And as before, he was
helpless to do anything to prevent it.

‘
Please
...run!'

She
ran directly toward Ben with outstretched arms. He knew she could not
possibly see him, but the image was disheartening. Her eyes were wide
with fear, and she held her mouth agape in a silent scream as she ran
with every shred of energy she could find but it was not going to be
enough. Forgetting for a moment where he was, Ben reached out to the
child, only for her to pass straight through him. He whipped around
and saw with frightening clarity the girl silhouetted against the
tragically-close watch fires of the Masked Pig. A salvation within
sight that would never be reached.

In
a blur, the Murg overtook the girl like a pack of wild dogs. Ben only
heard the remnant echo of her screams as they tore the poor child
apart in the snow. In an instant, she was gone.

"Ben!
You're hurting me."

Ben
opened his eyes, released Kyla's hands and with red-faced anger he
swept a bowl from the table and sent it scuttling across the floor.
He cried out in a guttural groan of rage and slammed his fists down
on the table as tears welled up behind his tense eyes.

William
Babbitt reached out to Ben and tried to calm him, "What did you
see?"

Ben
swirled around and pushed Babbitt's hands from him. He paced away,
and then turned back to the table; he needed to do something, but it
was no use. He instead, fell to his knees and covered his head with
his hands. He cried, "She wasn't fast enough!"

Kyla
immediately understood. "Oh, please no..."

"I
couldn't help her... she was only a child," he said through his
teeth. Incensed and maddened with emotion, he balled his fists
involuntarily and struck the floor.

Vincent
sprang to his feet. "How long do we have?"

Ben
lifted his head and wiped away his emotions with the back of his hand
and said, "They're already here."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The
front door rattled violently on its hinges and sent Paul running in
fear. Shadows passed over the tiny gaps of the boarded windows, as
several of the creatures ran along the front of the building, the
sound of their padded, bare feet slapping against the cold stones of
The Step. Another crash from above startled Ben, but it was only an
observer who had fallen trying to sprint down the stairs to tell Ben
what he already knew. The attack had started.

The
rear door leading to the stockyard flung open and three men pushed
into the room and with little time to spare, the door was closed and
held by sheer muscle until it could be secured in the face of the
intruders. Outside, the sounds of pounding, scratching, low growls
and shuffling feet indicated a sizable mob.

"They're
here!" one of the men shouted. "A half dozen of them hit us when
we came around the back."

Ben
was to his feet and on the move. He raced toward the stairs and as he
passed the rear hallway, he turned and barked orders. "Two men on
every door and window! Stoke the fires, and brace up those doors. We
need to be able to move freely, so keep everyone out of the way!"

He
took the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor landing, and
then moved swiftly down the hallway, glancing into each room to
ensure that the archers there were awake, aware, and working their
deadly skill on the targets below. If the archers could keep the
enemy thrall engaged, it would buy them significant time and weaken
the will of the attackers. At the last room on the hallway, he joined
the bowman at the window; the same man who had relieved him only a
half hour earlier.

"What
are we dealing with?"

Without
looking away from the street below, the hunter answered in a throaty,
gruff voice, "So far, just a few. They crept in from the shadows in
small groups. I'd say about twenty in total."

"Are
you sure that's all?"

The
hunter shook his head. "No, there's more out there in the dark, but
they keep moving in and out of the shadows making it hard to get a
good count. Right before you came in, I saw a man out there and he
had a couple of really big ones on a chain. He unlatched them and
then just disappeared. Vanished. Maybe my eyes have gone bad, but it
sure looked like it." The bowman leaned out the window and loosed
an arrow at an awkward angle, down and to his right. He was rewarded
for his effort with a satisfying yelp from below.

"Nice
shot."

"It's
not dead, but it won't be doing much running now. They're hard to hit
when they get too close to the building. There's a lot of cover down
there."

"Do
what you can to keep them busy, and don't drop your guard. Your eyes
didn't lie, you probably did see a man among them, and as much as I'd
like to see him targeted, be careful what you shoot at. If I move men
outside, we don't need arrows in our backs."

"I
can tell the difference."

"Of
course."

Ben
left the room and ran to the rear stairs that led to the third level.
The staircase was narrow and dark and sided on his right with the
stones of the exterior wall, making the small passage colder than the
hallway. Once he made it to the top, he found the corridor crowded
with townsfolk who had left their second floor rooms to gain a better
view through the windows above.

"Everyone
downstairs!" Ben shouted, pushing through the excited mass of
people. "Get back to your rooms, or get to the common room below.
This level is off limits... keep these hallways clear!"

Ben
peeled off into the first room on the eastern side, stopping briefly
to guide a woman by her shoulders back out into the corridor, and
then hurried himself to the window. There, an observer was hanging
halfway out the window yelling orders at an archer in a window below.
Over his shoulder, Ben could clearly see Harry's Hideout across the
mall, and two dark figures that clawed at the entrance.

He
had a thought. "Will our arrows reach that far?"

The
observer looked up at the other inn, "Sure, but we have our own
troubles."

"Pass
the word. I want everyone to target any Murg they see moving around
over there. It won't take long for Mason to figure out what we're
doing and return the favor. Same goes for any chance to help those
over there at The Goat."

Ben
quietly cursed himself for not thinking of this ahead of time. The
creatures were clinging close to the walls, making for hard targets
from above, but crossfire would catch them unprotected. Pinned
against the opposing building, with nothing for cover, they could be
easily targeted.

A
loud commotion in the next room got Ben back on the move. He raced
out into the hallway and rounded the corner through an open doorway.
In the next room, he could see two figures framed in the moonlit
window, and one of them was not human. The creature was not actually
in the room, but rather hanging from the roof eave and reaching into
the room with its one free hand. The limp man in its grasp no longer
struggled against the creature's bladed fist.

"They're
on the roof!" Ben shouted as he drew his sword and moved toward the
window. The Murg pulled the dead watchman's body through the window
and dropped the lifeless form twenty feet to the snow below, then
swung deftly into the room to face Ben's charge.

In
the dim light, the creature looked like a charcoaled behemoth,
arrogant and imposing. Its yellow eyes seemed to shine from within of
their own fire, but Ben knew this was only a trick of shadows and
light and that they merely reflected the moon outside. Nevertheless,
Ben found himself in familiar territory staring into the fiery and
maniacal hatred contained behind those hideous orbs.

The
creature wasted no time forgetting its last prey and setting its
sights on Ben. With an ear splitting shriek born out of nightmares,
the beast lurched toward Ben with its bladed fists. The unfettered
momentum of the beast's surge was a testament to the raw power that
coursed through its muscles. It took two massive steps and then
launched itself through the air at Ben. Strength was its advantage,
but a simple wit would be its downfall.

Already
in motion, Ben dropped to his knees and swung upward in a diagonal
arc and cleaved the airborne beast from hip to shoulder as it passed
over him. It landed in a heap of writhing death onto the floor. It
would not take long for the creature to die from the severe wound.

"It's
not always going to be that easy," Ben said aloud to himself and
then quietly wondered if his eyes had been open during the successful
maneuver. He wiped his sword clean across his sleeve and sheathed it,
while listening for any other activity in the area.

He
caught his breath and called out, "Don't lean out the windows, and
watch for movement above."

A
chorus of screams erupted from far below signaling another probable
breach, but this time into the vulnerable common room. Ben had plenty
of men downstairs, but that was also where most of the townsfolk were
housed. He could only hope that the intruder would be dispatched
quickly. He found his strength and again made for the door, but by
the time he made it to the main stairs overlooking the tavern, the
scene below was bleak.

Three
Murg had somehow gained access into the Masked Pig and had already
dealt a devastating blow to the citizens housed there. At least one
man lay dead under the wide, menacing stance of the largest creature,
while nearby, an elderly woman clutched at her stomach helplessly
watching her life spill out between her fingers and onto the floor.

Six
of his men had successfully pinned the other two beasts into a
corner, but were only barely keeping them at bay. The two Murg clawed
and growled like caged animals as the men slowly pressed forward,
squeezing off their chance to move into the room. With nowhere to
run, and nothing to lose, the cornered beasts would soon attack with
a mad fury. Ben could only hope that his men would be prepared to
meet that assault.

The
third and largest Murg, however, moved unfettered through the crowd,
slashing out as it went, carving a deadly path through innocent
flesh. Though the opportunity to kill was readily present in any
direction, it seemed intently focused on reaching a pair huddled near
the hearth. There, Paul did his best to stand between the approaching
threat and his mother. He had armed himself with a heavy, iron
kindling hook from the fire. It was still near white-hot and would
serve as a capable weapon, but Ben knew that in the hand of the young
man, it was not going to be enough.

Ben
scrambled halfway down the stairs and vaulted the banister with one
hand to land several feet below. He pushed upstream through a crowd
of people determined to rush in the opposite direction; a
horror-struck mass of bodies running away from the very thing that
Ben was running toward. His odds of intercepting the beast before it
could reach the young man were dwindling fast.

Finally,
breaking through the barrier of bodies, Ben launched himself into the
void previously occupied by the retreating townsfolk, and suddenly
found himself in the path of the advancing beast. He had only enough
time to steady his stance, and raise his weapon. To his surprise,
Paul took up a place at his side.

"Stay
behind my left shoulder," Ben huffed, not realizing how out of
breath he was from his effort of crossing the room.

The
Murg coming at him was the largest he had yet seen, even bigger than
the one that had escaped from Tad's cottage. He remembered well the
Murg that had spoken the portentous word ‘Fahd' on that fateful
night. This one, however, was not making small-talk.

Its
heavy stride closed the distance between them with unstoppable
impetus. Muscle rippled beneath its mottled gray skin that glistened
with the orange glow of firelight in the otherwise dim room. With an
insane rage and an earsplitting roar, it crossed its bladed fists and
leaned its shoulder into a full-bodied strike.