The following is a short story in my high fantasy book Nightwalkers.
. . . A new world revealed itself to us as we exited the Weitwood Forest that night. And, truth be told, I could hardly believe it. There I stood, little ol’ Holger of Enghor, at the base of the fabled Eastern Mountains with Rüdiger and Anton on either side of me, and Otto pullin’ up the rear. After countless days of exploration, we had finally reached our destination.
These tremendous mountains had peaks far taller than those back in Enghor, and much more jagged cliffs. They were truly a sight to behold: intimidating, yet enticing. Unbeknownst to us what lie ahead, and guided only by Caelus’ light, we journeyed on.
It was not so long after our departure from the forest that I heard the noises that still haunt my dreams to this day. Shrill squeals and hisses rang out around us. The sounds closed in fast, and all I remember before the onslaught was what Rüdiger yelled. It was the one word that changed my life forever, “Nightwalkers!”
They jumped down from the trees, bolted from foliage, and crawled out of caves in the cliffside. They were almost impossible to see in the darkness of the night, but I drew my old man’s sword and managed to behead the first one that reached my position.
Otto had his bow drawn, and the zipping sound of arrows flew by, followed by thuds as the arrows took out a few nightwalkers attacking from the front. Anton and Rüdiger peeled off from their positions beside me, Anton with his two swords and Rüdiger with his axe.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Rüdiger was gradually engulfed by the foul beasts. He swung and hacked at their soulless bodies, but their jet-black claws tore apart his armor and ripped into his flesh.
My closest friend was being mutilated beside me, but there was nothing I could do, for I was fighting what must have been at least four nightwalkers. I was forced to fend for myself whilst listening to his screams of utter agony. We all grew enraged, but were left helpless as even more nightwalkers flooded onto the scene with the scent of fresh blood in the air.
I saw Otto dashing forward, trying desperately to load an arrow whilst running at top speed, but it was too late. The possessed creatures of the night easily caught up to him and brought him to the ground.
I refocused my attention and cut down yet another beast. It was refreshing to see its tar-like blood spill at my feet. When I looked back, bloodied limbs were being tossed around, and the carcass of my cousin Otto was quickly devoured. I have no words to describe how I felt at the sight.
Anton and I regrouped and stood back to back. He was drenched in a mixture of sweat and nightwalker blood, as was I. Our only hope was for the sun to peek over the top of the mountains, but with upwards of fifteen beasts closing in on us, that hope seemed to be lost. I told Anton, I said, “Looks like the end, pal. It has been an honor to be your friend.”
That’s when he spun me around to face the forest. He showed me the shadows of the mountains slowly retreating from the trees. He simply stated, “If we can hold them off for but a moment longer, we can get outta here.”
“Right.” I remember saying. I turned back around as a group of savages sprinted in my direction after finishing off Otto’s remains. His blood stained the faces and bodies of the horrid beasts, and it was then that I knew I wasn’t going down. As long as Anton had my rear, and I his, we could get out alive. I would not let my companions die in vain.
From behind, I heard what could only be described as a warrior’s yell from Anton, and I joined in harmony while charging forward. My blade quickly found its way into the belly of a damned nightwalker. As I pulled out my blood-soaked sword, I swung it upward to meet the face of another running toward me. As it fell, I cut down the next two with ease and had a brief moment to check on Anton.
I could see him blocking claws and slicing torsos with his two swords. The steady thuds of iron on bone, accompanied by our enemies’ cries of death, were satisfying sounds. My satisfaction was short-lived, though, for I was forced to turn back around and welcome three more nightwalkers.
I kicked the first on its back, sliced the chest of the second, decapitated the third, and impaled the first as it sprung up at me. My years of training were finally paying off.
I turned to help my friend as the beasts’ black blood rained down upon me, but was met with a worrisome sight. A nightwalker jumped from the back of another getting impaled below and tackled Anton to the ground. Anton was unable to withdraw his right-hand sword from the nightwalker he had gutted and tried to swing across his body with his left-hand blade. It was too late.
I sprinted over as fast as I could, but the nightwalker ripped Anton’s face in two and plunged its free claws into his neck. The involuntary, bodily sounds alone were more than I could bear. What came next still plagues my thoughts from time to time, and even more so now as I recall it.
The nightwalker reached its thin, leathery arm down Anton’s neck, felt around for a moment, and slowly pulled out his bloody heart. I closed my eyes in horror as the heart continued to beat furiously in the claws of the beast.
From my world of darkness, I could hear its fangs sinking into the fleshy ball. I knew my time on Friedünn would soon come to an end, as well. I fell to my knees on the unforgiving ground and dropped my sword in despair.
The nearly one dozen remaining nightwalkers turned their foul heads in my direction as my sword rang out. They charged toward me, but, at this point, I welcomed their onslaught. I could bear the thought of my friends no longer. As they approached, I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth.
I could hear them coming, but as quickly as the sounds had neared, they stopped, and I felt a warm sensation creep up my spine. Was this death? No. I opened my eyes to see the nightwalkers retreating. The sun had come at last, but, in my eyes, it was a moment too soon. It did not save me; it tormented me, for its rays illuminated what remained of my fallen comrades and left me as the sole witness to their gruesome demise.
I buried my face in my palms and wept as hard as a newborn weeps upon birth. The thoughts that then flooded my mind frighten me. They were not necessarily appalling at the time, but, thinking back, I recall thoughts of ending it all myself. I remember looking intently upon my blackened sword lying silently by my side. The light of the sun reflected off any metal that had not been doused in blood, and I considered it for a long while.
Alas, the outcome is obvious, for you would not be reading my story now if I had gone through with it. Even still, I remained trapped at the base of the mountains alone, helpless, weak, and afraid. Those next few hours were by far my longest.
As the sun rose high in the sky, the stench of death became too great, and I knew I must move on. I did what I could to honor my fallen companions, but it wasn’t much. After what seemed like an eternity, I reentered the Weitwood Forest by myself and began the daunting journey back to Enghor as such . . .