The creatures surged over the swordsman’s horse, ripping at his clothing and seeking to bind his arm. Amric glared in cold fury down into their visages as they writhed up after him. They were deepest black everywhere beneath a swaddling of cloth that hung in shreds from their frames, including even the inside of their gaping mouths, their bared teeth and where the whites of their eyes should have been. He realized with a chill that they shed no blood when struck, and had voiced neither cry of pain nor growl of anger. But for the slap of their bodies and pawing strikes, and the rasp of the rotten cloth about them parting as they scrabbled to climb over their fellows in their haste to reach him, they were utterly silent. Even the ones to whom he had dealt crippling blows were clawing at him with unfaltering vigor; only the one he had all but decapitated had fallen away and not risen again.
The bay’s legs began to buckle under the weight as the creatures sought to drag mount and rider to the ground, and then Valkarr was there, crashing into them atop his dun gelding, his blade cleaving right and left. As his horse fell to its knees, Amric rolled from the saddle and away from the bulk of his assailants to land on his feet. His other sword flashed into the air. One of the creatures, a barrel-chested thing that resembled a hairless black version of the beast men he had seen back at the Sleeping Boar, ducked under Valkarr’s horse and wrapped its burly limbs about the animal’s legs. The dun stumbled and pitched forward, and Valkarr leapt from the saddle as he drew his second sword. The figures pursued the warriors, pawing their way over the downed horses as if they were already forgotten.
“Take the heads!” Amric commanded. “Cut instead of stab!”
Amric hurled himself back into them. The creatures pressed forward in a mass, heedless of their own injuries, seeking to crash over him like a wave. His swords whirled in a glittering net around him as he spun through the knot of bodies. A grasping hand and forearm parted company with the rest of its arm; a slick black skull tumbled to the sward even as its sunken pit eyes still sought its prey; a sharp kick bent an exposed knee the wrong way with a sickly crack, and its owner was propelled to the ground by the force of the blow. All the while, his flickering blades turned aside clutching hands and flailing fists. Then Amric was through the horde. He risked a look at Valkarr to see that his friend had beheaded one of his assailants and sidestepped the other’s charge. In that instant, one of the throng he had just cut through swung a wild fist that bounced from Amric’s mailed shoulder and struck him across the temple. It hit with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer, and for a moment lights burst before his eyes and his vision swam. He back-pedaled as he spun away and fended off their relentless attack.
His sword licked out and its tip passed through an ebon throat, but the creature, unperturbed, came on. Powerful arms sought to encircle him and bind his arms, even as another came in low. As he glanced down, Amric had to blink away the blurriness from his sight to confirm the impossibility of what he was seeing. The creature whose knee he had shattered, rather than crippled, had merely bent each of its limbs at an unnatural angle and was skittering across the ground like some giant, hideous spider, driving at his legs. The warrior lashed out in lightning cuts with each sword, hacking aside a sweeping arm above and cleaving the skull of the crawler below. The latter faltered and sagged, pitching face-first onto the trail.
The standing creature changed tactics and grappled for one of Amric’s swords. A whistling arc from the other sword removed its head, and it toppled backward to strike the ground like a felled tree. Amric turned to see Valkarr spin around his last attacker and send it stumbling forward with a thunderous blow to the back. Pouncing after it, the Sil’ath warrior struck the head away, and the body took several more steps before crashing to the earth.
Amric whirled toward the only remaining sound of skirmish, in the direction of Bellimar and Halthak. The old man had retreated a few yards down the trail and was still astride his panicked horse, but the Half-Ork was on foot, facing the last attacker. He swung his heavy staff in a tremendous overhand curve, striking the forehead of his assailant with a resounding crack. It was a blow that would have felled an ox, but the creature merely staggered to regain its balance and then surged forward again. It extended one hammer fist to clout Halthak in the head so hard it lifted him from his feet. As the healer crumpled, the black thing swept his limp form into its arms and raced down the trail as if the listless weight of a man meant nothing to it.
In an instant, Amric and Valkarr were bounding down the trail after it. Bellimar wheeled his mount into its path, but the creature darted to one side, shouldering aside the frightened beast. It was momentarily slowed, however, and that was more than enough for the pursuing warriors. Each struck out at a pumping leg, and the abductor sprawled to the ground, releasing its unmoving burden. The creature sank its black fingers into the earth and wrenched about hard, twisting to face them in a blink. It lurched toward Amric, who struck away its grasping hand, and Valkarr’s downward slice sent its gaping head rolling across the trail.
The warriors spun in unison to face outward, chests heaving from the frenzied exertion, swords held low and ready against any new assailants. The impenetrable foliage about them was still but for the idle breeze, and gave no sign of further approach. The birds above had fallen silent, but within scant seconds of the conflict’s end below, their prattle ascended to its previous volume. In moments, the only noise out of place was the panicked thrashing of one of the horses where it had plunged into the undergrowth and now sounded thoroughly dismayed by its options. Amric saw Valkarr’s blue dun stamping its hooves on the trail as shudders coursed through its flanks, and he realized it was his own mount that had left the path.
“See to Halthak,” he told Bellimar. “We will gather and quiet the horses.”
Bellimar nodded and slid from his sway-backed mare, which was placid once more. Valkarr collected his own mount and Halthak’s, while Amric glided into the thick of the forest on panther’s feet to locate his bay gelding. To his great relief, the animal was uninjured and not far from the trail. He did not relish the thought of being on foot as they penetrated further into the forest, or worse, when they needed to leave it. The horse had wandered into a pocket draped with sinuous vines that blocked its progress, and it was as loath to make contact with the web of vines as it was to retrace its steps. Amric sheathed his blades and approached slowly, speaking soft and soothing words to the wild-eyed beast even as he continued to eye his surroundings for new threats. It was the work of several minutes, but he managed to calm the gelding enough to lead it back to his companions.
When he returned with the bay on his heels, Halthak was sitting up with his head resting in his hands. His pebbled flesh looked pallid, and his eyes were unfocused as he glanced up to nod at Amric’s approach.
“How are you feeling?” Amric asked, tying his horse to a nearby tree branch with the others.
“Like my skull was used to toll the great bell of some cathedral,” Halthak answered in a rueful tone. “But as soon as I can concentrate, I can heal it. I will be fine.”
Amric clasped the healer’s shoulder as he strode past, and he dropped to one knee near Bellimar, who was examining the corpse of one of their assailants. It looked as if it had once been a man, or was cast in the shape of a man, but all hair had been removed and every exposed inch of its flesh was a glistening black. And black to the core, Amric noted, as he observed the cross-sections where its arm and head had been severed. There was no blood seeping from the wounds, no bone or red flesh visible within. It was swathed in coils of some filthy canvas material that were falling away from it in tatters, as if it had been bound tight in layers of ceremonial cloth at one point. It appeared to be otherwise naked underneath.