When Fog Marches

Written by World Smithy

I never knew what it meant to shamble, to walk upon shattered limbs. Or what the cries of the damned may have sounded like. Or what those damned may have looked like. They were us; hollowed, corrupted, and rotting... I believe that every darkness must end with morning's gentle light, but I must confess; it is not yet even midnight here upon our realm.

— General Jon' Athan

A sea of steel and crimson lapped at the fort's stone walls. Men cried out as they were struck down by an unrelenting wave of violet pressing against their ranks. The undead, the corrupted, the taken; the largest mass of Silhouettes Heldra had ever seen was trying to break into the fortress. Far to the distant north a mighty roar rang out; Cyndranis, Saviour of the Steppes, was fighting for his people. A battle horn sounded to Heldra's left some two hundred feet down the wall, signaling a charge. They couldn't have just blown the alarm, that's suicide!

The gates below her swung open, tossing man and monster alike aside. Cavalry stormed through the opening, plowing into the ranks of the Silhouettes below. A stream of darkness followed the riders as they extinguished the faint, purple light of the Silhouette's eye sockets. Soldiers began to rush into this gap, swinging and piercing bodies as best they could. Heldra's fingers itched as they wrapped around the handles of two polished axes in anticipation. I should be down there, fighting until I drop! Would others follow me if I took the leap?

A helmet flew over the ridge of the wall, landing beside her. When it rolled to a stop, she saw someone's severed head looking back up at her with a face frozen in fear and horror. Subtle rage began to build within her chest, threatening to break out of her at the sight. The men down there were giving everything, some of them even more than that as they were taken by the Gloom while she was assigned to wall duty. This was her breaking point; with a rage only rivaled by the fabled berserkers of the southern tundras of yore, she lept from her place on the wall into the battle below.

Heldra landed with a sickening thud as she cut one of the Silhouettes down beneath her. Its eyes flickered out as she wriggled her right axe free of its head. Runes sparked to life along the wooden haft of her axes and her blades errupted in a divine light. She swung again, cleaving straight through a beast that had been corrupted. Hearing one rushing her from behind, she wildly swung back, catching it in the mid-abdomen. Its flesh burned against the radiant shimmer of the blade, and it too fell to the battle ground. A smile flashed across Heldra's face as she smote Silhouette after Silhouette - this is where she truly belonged.

---

Minutes dragged on to hours as the swarm of undead continued to pour forth from the Gloom. Heldra's arms began to turn sore with every swing, each one costing her precious vigor. With a roar, she swung both axes in an upwards arc at a mangy, rotting bear with lavender pinpoints for eyes. The beast was shorn in two from the force, spraying the unfortunate soldiers behind it with a black, viscous ichor. One of the Taken grabbed onto her shoulders from behind, sinking its teeth deep into her back. With a yell, Heldra threw an elbow behind her, catching the Silhouette in the side.

The ravenous creature flew from the force, leaving dark red streaks across Heldra's torso. Death hung heavy among the combatants, forcing some men to retch as they fought for breath. Some broke rank and fled towards the safety of the gate, despite it having closed half an hour ago. Another aching swing and another Silhouette, another person, fell to Heldra's feet, smoldering from the holy power emitted from her axe. Even she had her limits, and she knew this all too well. The men around her began to flounder, she was losing steam, and the dead... just kept coming.

“Fight. The. Tide, men! Do not break now!” Heldra cried, felling two more gnashing Silhouettes. “I can't promise things will change, or that your blood is not in vain!” In a whirl of flashing steel, she cut down a circle of the undead around her, saving a handful of soldiers cowering behind splintered shields. Those men looked up at her, covered in blood, viscera, and bone fragments, with reverence. They heard her message, and courage swelled up inside of them.

“But, if no God will answer your cries of pain and anguish, will you still find your strength?!” She screamed. Three of them piled onto her back, carving into her flesh. Ribbons of crimson flew from her through the torrent of bodies, speckling the ground like fresh paint. Two of the soldiers she helped drove their swords through the Silhouettes, piercing her own back in the process. They slumped off her and she heaved for breath through the weight of the noxious decay around them.

“Will you bend your knee to this hatred, to this greed, just to save yourself the pain of saving others?! Or will. You. STAND?!” Heldra roared, ripping apart the last undead that clung to her back with her bare hands. “FIGHT THE TIDE, MEN!”

---

Laughter blossomed from the dark fog surrounding the small army. The torrent of undead seemed to let up, and the men pushed forward, driving the Silhouette scourge back from the fortress. It seemed that word made its way through the battle field of Heldra's words of courage, as more and more men continued their charge. She knelt in a pool of muck, blood, and ichor, breathing heavy as the soldiers flowed around her like a river of men. The wounds around her body pulsed with agony, and the bite wound began to fester despite it being fresh. I've been through worse, right? This will just make a good story!

Fear ripped into her as she heard the peeling of steel behind her. Something strong enough, or heavy enough, just tore through some unfortunate soldier's armor like it was butter. The sound seemed to be getting closer to her, men screaming to her left, then right, as they were being flung by the force. She could barely hear one of them yell ‘What the FU-’ before they too got ripped open. Heldra picked up her axes and hauled herself to her feet, swaying slightly from the blood loss as she turned around. She paled at what she saw.

A face like that of a forgotten marionette was flying straight towards her, shredding men below it that dared to step into its path. Its eyes bore into her with two pinpoints of lavender light, just like everything else she had slain, but this one harbored an emotion behind them. Malice. The entity was giggling as it turned men into ribbons of steel and flesh, and the fog seemed to echo it. It finally got to her, blood dripping from fingers as long as swords and just as sharp, and stopped. Its mouth split apart like a rotten banana peel, revealing a blackened mouth and sharp, broken teeth within. Its voice felt as if it were made of lead as it landed upon her ears.

“I seek... a challenge,” it whispered. Its voice drowned out everything else, commanding Heldra's full attention. “You... you seem strong enough. A deal?” The entity's mouth curled into a smile that stretched from ear to ear, both of which flopped to either side of its head in elongated fae fashion. It seemed to wear the remnants of eccentric noble clothing, but Heldra couldn't place where she had seen it before. A children's fairytale book, perhaps?

“Go on, I'm listening. Axes are still thirsty,” Heldra said, gripping the wooden handles tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. Despite her suppressing the emotion with rage, fear was creeping up her spine, causing her to shiver beneath its gaze. She was never one to back down from a direct challenge, but something inside of her told her to run, to flee, to save her own skin. Not after what I just told the soldiers, Heldra. Hold, damn it!

“Mha ha, best me in combat, woman. I, and the blight you fight, shall leave this place should you save face,” it said, splaying its sword-like fingers as it bowed towards her.

“If I lose?”

“Lose? Your men will then be forfeit, as I see fit. And, by morrow's clock strike of nine, I will gawk and you, darling, shall be MINE!”

---

Soldiers ran in fear from the monster, creating a sort of arena between the two. Bodies comprised much of the border, their gore marking the boundaries of where men were unwilling to step. Silhouettes ceased their slamming of rotting hands on broken shields and long-dead beasts forced to walk again stood silently. The puppet-like entity bowed once more, as if greeting a crowd of enthusiastic spectators. Its voice dropped from its twisted mouth once more, and Heldra swore the sound crawled along the ground with eight legs.

“You stand before Dirrus, Frayed Sovereign of the Mist. I hold many other titles in surplus, but I'm afraid that I forgot my list.” It stood, rolling its right arm in a flourish as it brought the spindly appendage to rest across its torso. Spreading across its face in an arc, the umbral paper-thin lips broke apart again, “Introduce yourself, my dear! One should ne'er leave an audience to simply leer!”

Heldra held up her right hand, still clutching the glowing axe as she spoke, “I am Heldra Keenswill, daughter of Iron Hands Myran Keenswill of the Torran Clan. My family has been one of warriors since before the light fell from our lands.” She leveled the axe towards Dirrus. “I accept your challenge, demon!”

There was a tense moment of anticipation as the two stood there amongst the dead, dying, and retching men. Then, Dirrus attacked. It seemed to glide across the ground towards Heldra, never once touching the bloodied ground beneath. Soundlessly, and with a massive smile plastered to its face, Dirrus brought down a hand through the air, slicing towards her with razor-sharp digits. Heldra knew it would attack first and was ready for it; she swung upwards with her left axe, meeting the blades just before they hit her. She parried its arm and followed through with a right handed swing towards its abdomen.

The blow connected, tearing through the noble's suit it wore. To her horror, the blade found no flesh beneath the ragged clothing. Whisps of dark mist billowed out of the gash and a cacophony of cackles followed with it. Stunned that it was able to be parried, much less hit, Dirrus emitted a deep growl that spilled through its clenched smile. Heldra paled, spinning to bring the left axe towards its head. Mid-maneuver, she felt a warm streak of pain rip across her chest as its taloned fingers bored across her. Unable to contain it any longer, she screamed, pressing through the agony that now flared through her.

Heldra brought down her right axe in a heavy, overhead swing towards Dirrus' head. The entity did not flinch or dodge, opting to take the brunt of her attack. Its flesh burned at the holy radiance of the axe's enchantment, yet it continued to laugh towards her. Pain errupted through her as it drove a pointed hand through her gut, lifting her up to be eye level with it. The only thing keeping her conscious through the immense blood loss was anger, adrenaline, and the hope that this thing would leave her and the soldiers be.

For a moment Heldra had held its gaze, eye to eye. She couldn't tell if it was shock, blood loss, or delerium, but she swore that she saw the emotion change behind the violet, no, green pinpoints of light that resided within its skull. It was compassion and a nonverbal apology for what has happened, of what will continue to happen. It was only for a second, though, and it was gone again, leaving only coldness and malice in its place. She groaned at the pain, trying to force herself to slip off the four blades that found themselves piercing her body.

“You are the first in a hundred-year to give me such a thrill! For you, my dear, I shall not kill.” Dirrus said, its smile threatening to crack its face in half. “I, and the Gloom, shall retreat. Your people will face no doom, nor be further beat.”

Despite being impaled some ten feet off the ground, Heldra smiled. Darkness came for her fast as the Sovereign dropped her to the red and sodden earth below. Dragging. Yells, calls for help. Hands gripped Heldra's arms, but she couldn't see them. All she could see was a man clad in dark leathers and black feathers, watching her from the abyss that sprawled around her. Its face bore the resemblance of a raven's, and two, somehow comforting red eyes stared back at her. It patted a massive tome beneath one arm and she heard it whisper, all around her.

“Not yet, my friend. I shall be waiting for you at the very end, and I will want to hear all about it when we meet again.”

---

“How can we trust your recounting, Heldra Keenswill? You're covered in wounds, and frankly the surgeons are shocked you were able to pull through at all. How do we know you didn't knock something upstairs in all of that?”

Heldra sat upright on the bare cot where she had woken up weeks earlier, propping herself up on a shaky hand. Bandages shifted against her skin, stoking pain through her body once more. The gashes across her torso burned, and she glared up at the officer with a single, uncovered golden eye peeking through the head wrappings. Rage swelled inside of her, threatening to break out at any moment, but her vision swam as her aching muscles tensed. Still too weak... too dizzy. Numb?

“I'll tell ya's like I told the other one,” Heldra slurred, grimacing through the agony of her aged injuries and the numbness that spread through her as a cocktail of drugs took hold. “I fought something that wanted to kill everything. It stood two men taller than I, and it had swords for fingers. I watched that puppet thing tear our men into party decorations out there, Silas! How else do you think I got so fucked up?! Why would I lie about that?”

Silas stood over her, anguish hiding behind unshed tears in his green, quivering eyes. “So I've heard. I just,” he sighs, “I worry about you sometimes, Heldra. You know how I feel about you, that I would do everything in my power to see you safe and unharmed. To see you bloodied and bed ridden for so long...” He sat next to her on the cot, tentatively wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She was much larger than him in stature, even after her extended stay in the hospice ward of the fortress. “You beat it, right?”

“Its not here anymore, and we're still alive, aren't we?” She looked towards him, his profile was blurry and wriggled in her vision because of the heavy medicine coursing through her.

“Of course, that was a silly question,” Silas scooted off the edge of the cot, kneeling infront of her. He wrapped his arms around her, not quite reaching all the way around in a delicate hug. “I'll get you something to eat, I'm sure you're hungry. To put you at ease, the men have reported no further sightings or incursions of undead.” Silas pulled back, pressing a gentle kiss to her bandaged forehead. “Everything will be ok, Heldra. I love you.”