The Hunter's Song II: Lost Blood

Ch 19: Ravaged (Mourning Crow)

"Graven activity is off the charts," Shar'koth monitored the inflow analysis from the network of survey drones hovering above the monastery and the surrounding area.

"Full or minion?" Merrik asked.

"Both," I answered. "I've never felt this many in one location since my final day in Thorngate."

The red planet was massive and pulsing with the stagnant stench of hate and rotten flesh.

Shar'koth and his science team were still working in tandem with the dreadnought in orbit to perform a comprehensive global sweep, but they had a lock on the distress signal's source.

Protocol dictated that a Forged squadron land first to secure a safe zone, but when the origin turned out to be the infested remnants of Darbek Monastery, Groon gave orders to take the offensive. My task was to lead a team of his finest warriors, with Shar'koth and Merrik, to make contact and retrieve our people.

"I'm reading ambiguous life signs," Shar'koth pointed to a military transport shuttle with its front end bashed in, lying ahead of us in the central courtyard.

The monastery was silent, but we knew we were being watched.

"Be ready for anything," I commanded my team. "Disregard nothing. They can strike from any direction."

Red clouds swirled overhead while death and decay ran rampant below. Noxious bogs littered the terrain like poisonous pockmarks boiling over from the planet's core. But the worst were the remains of our people strung up in effigy to the Graven.

We had no choice but to deny our first impulse. It was our duty to locate the living before tending the dead.

"Do not give our enemy the satisfaction of outrage," Merrik spoke up. He had his shield up with a military-grade heavy blazer, ready for action.

Squadrons of interceptors primed to offer air cover streaked through the sky.

We were far beyond the timely reach of our clan and sister clans, but the Joyful Tyrant had delivered an army.

"Elder," Shar'koth brought my attention to the claw marks indented on the shuttle's rear cargo doors.

I flicked my ears at the Forged warrior, signaling it was time to spread out and charge our blasters.

The scent of decay intensified as we approached the shuttle. It was the indignant sweet aroma of spoiled meat that clings to your gag reflex and stifles your appetite for three days straight.

We surrounded the shuttle, some with their weapons aimed at our target and a second line on the perimeter, taking a defensive stance to guard our backs.

I had this eerie déjà vu sensation prickling across my skin. It was like standing inside one of those pernicious nightmares that had been plaguing my sleep for months.

Let them be alive!

Merrik stood at my side as I stepped forward and swiped the panel to open the hatch.

I don't think Merrik approved of me taking point, but he and I had had a long chat before disembarking. Until others among our crew had faced off against at least one full Graven, I wasn't comfortable putting them in a direct line of potential contagion.

The shuttle door lifted open with a hiss and a viscous slurry of white and blue oozed out.

Many of the Forged warriors hissed in disgust.

I stepped back to avoid standing in the mess as a sluice of body parts tumbled onto the courtyard.

"Do I even need to ask if there are any survivors inside?" I glanced at Shar'koth.