Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [82]
“No, commander,” the sergeant confirmed.
“Has anyone approached them?”
“Not after your earlier warnings. We waited for you to arrive to assess the situation.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Brynd turned to Lupus, said abruptly, “Shoot one.”
The private walked to the very edge of the forest. With a clear aim at most of them, he nocked an arrow, brought it to anchor point. “Any one in particular, commander?”
Brynd tilted his head, said, “Try that one.” He pointed toward the nearest motionless figure. “Aim for the head. We know that a body shot isn’t all that effective.”
Lupus released the arrow. It whipped through the air and struck the draugr in the eye with a crack as the skull shattered. The creature fell to the ground under the force of the blow, twitched slowly, like a fish on dry land. None of the other draugr reacted. They merely remained stationary in the moonlight, staring ahead, or at nothing at all.
“Cover me,” Brynd ordered. “And sergeant, line up all the archers you’ve got. Make sure they watch my back and keep the rest of those things away.”
“Yes, commander,” Woodyr replied, and returned to her unit.
To his left, the archers lined up against the fringes of the forest.
Brynd made his way across the moor, stepping tentatively over the soggy grass, crept up to the creature that Lupus had just shot. Its skull had been split by the force of the arrow, the shaft still buried deeply. Stitching around the creature’s neck, a black line evident across its blue-tinted skin. Brynd unsheathed his sword and poked at it, but it didn’t respond, maybe it couldn’t sense the touch of the metal against its skin. A worrying sign.
Brynd glanced back at the forest, reassured at the metal glinting in the moonlight, the swords and arrowheads at the ready should anything happen to him. He walked on between the other draugr. Their heads were all tilted to one side, making them appear to be asleep—except he could see their eyes clearly reflecting the moonlight.
He approached one of the creatures that looked like a woman, the long blond hair stirring gently in the breeze. He scraped his sword down one arm, drawing black fluid from beneath the skin. The draugr didn’t react, obviously couldn’t feel any pain. Was this in any way a human after all? He realized that, whatever they were called, these creatures were not alive in any normal sense, but in all his years in Jamur service he had never seen anything like these.
Returning to the fallen draugr, Brynd untied his belt, hooked it around the creature’s ankles, dragged it back to the edge of the forest, his feet slipping on the grass, and all the time looking back to check that none of the others were now following.
Sergeant Woodyr came forward to help him. “What do we do, commander?”
“I don’t see these ones as a threat exactly, but I think we should shoot them all down. We’ll need a barred caravan, then pile them in and bring them back to Villjamur. They can’t be left standing out here. Make sure to cover them up so the public don’t see them. There’s enough panic in the city already.”
“Sir,” she saluted, then gave her men the order to fire.
Dozens of arrows were instantly let loose.
CHAPTER 17
RANDUR ENTERED THE COMPLETE DARKNESS OF THE CAVES OF VILLJAMUR. It was the first time he’d ventured here, mainly because everyone had warned him of the perils. Too many unsavory characters, they claimed. You’ll get your head kicked in. Robbed. All the worst villains in Villjamur live there.
And that was precisely why he was heading this way.
It was the smell that got to him first, a rancid, surprisingly humid odor. The first street he came across was like those on the lower level of the main city, the same kinds of taverns emptying out drunken men and women who were clawing the walls to guide themselves home. Shops all closed, ghostly presences in the night. The few colored lanterns burned steadily, however, in the absence of any breeze. Stray dogs pursued their solitary paths through narrow alleys. People