A monster emerges from the shadows. He is followed by another, and another, until the world is inhabited by new beasts of its own creation. This anthology incorporates stories from various genres and timelines, exploring what makes us who we are.
They floundered in the brush, kicking and hacking at vines.
"Don't let us get you!" the corrupted woman yelped as she neared. "Far þér til baka! The iron shows no mercy!"
A boulder just a few yards off would guarantee elevation and a vantage point, so the men thrashed toward this, but a numbing ache spread along Einar's leg that had not healed well.
He tripped and cursed.
Solveig dove for him.
Einar bashed his forehead on a yew's trunk.
Plummeting to the ground, he nursed his leg.
Solveig knelt over him. "Twelve."
Einar understood what the number referred to.
It was how many corrupted now stampeded through the vines, bloodstained weapons flailing, a plough here, a lance there, hammers and oars, glaives and nets.
He rose, axe out.
Death would not take him without a price.
The first enemy to close in tried to spear him but missed.
"Brave dodge!" hooted the attacker. "Kill me now to release me from the iron!"
"No!" Einar sprang up from his crouching position and kicked him in the gut. "You are innocent and undeserving of death!"
The corrupted man vomited a burst of liquid metal.
Einar whirled out of its path.
A dot glistened on his sleeve, which he tore off and flung. Other attackers reached him. The woman with the broken fingers, her knife a shimmering triangle in her good hand, lunged next.
An arrow zipped out of the vines.
It struck her just under the breast and toppled her.
"What in the—?" Einar huffed at the mist.
He traced where the arrow had dashed from to a boy who sat up high in an oak.
"By the whoring Valkyries!" Einar retched and gasped.
The child, about ten years old, nocked a fresh arrow to the string of his bow, which was too large for him.
Solveig and Einar mounted the boulder quick, and the corrupted scrambled up after them but the pair kept kicking them back down.
The boy loosed a second arrow.
It pierced the forehead of the old man with the stab wound in his chest from the broken-fingered woman's dagger.
He collapsed with grateful eyes.
"Quit killing them!" Solveig urged the boy. "They are innocent!"
Yet the boy loosed arrow after arrow after arrow.
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