REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

17

The sweeping bleached plains of the Hinterlands broke away under Team 3's feet and began to erupt into long natural gashes, as if these grassy flats in the forlorn stretch between Vacancy and Catatonia had been raked by titanic talons. The land further sawed at itself as they went into it. Soon the earth was a vast puzzle of shallow canyons and ravines. The Reapers were forced to find their way through the maze of rock and dirt. Riddle thought of the stone labyrinths in his home city of Casir, built by the ancients. Every year there would be festivals in which he and his family would "Go to the Mazes." People would come from all across Toloy for the events. There they would eat pitoyo seeds and watch slaves and brave gladiators be released into those zigzag channels along with all manner of deadly beasts captured from round the world. Then came confusion and tension and blood and cheers. It made for great sport when one could witness it all from safety of the stands. But Riddle did not appreciate being a participant in an impromptu version of the contest out in these ragged savannahs. Thinking on those times brought back memories painful and sweet. Life was a riddle to Riddle. Never did he fit. When his father left for war, little Rhilo had been so upset he would not look his sire in the eye. When the man returned from the campaign of bloodshed he in turn never allowed his son look at his face again. The conflict had broken his elder. Unfixed his soul. He was never there for his boy after coming home. Even when he was. And so Rhilo went to the books for guidance. They taught him everything of the world except how to be. They advised nothing of girls or making friends. Not a word of what a father teaches his son. Riddle's time spent with Team 4 had been a lifetime's worth of lessons when it came to how to be a comrade and friend. He missed those boys. But Barda and Rooster thought his skills would be best used on this mission, and Team 3 had recently lost their rune man Jinx to other duties. And so here Riddle was, again solving his own private riddle of where he really fit or belonged.

At points the ways through the earthen corridors were claustrophobic. The walls threatened to crumble and collapse upon the Reapers at any moment. Unexpected turns. Dead ends. Things chirped in the networks of roots that hung from the clay walls like the unwashed hair of hags. The team had chosen this path through the rough to avoid the heaviest enemy activity further north. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Blacwin made a low hiss and held up his hand to gesture that a threat was nearby. Movement ahead, he signaled, and to the side. The scout listened more intently in the silence. Held up the symbol to indicate that there were multiple threats around them. At all sides.

Nail heard a low menacing snarl and instantly knew the sound. "Wolf wights," he quietly said. "They're stalking us." Thirteen drew out his riflebow and the other men followed suit. The blackmetal arms sprang outward and locked themselves in place with sure snaps.

The stillness was murdered by snarls and fangs. The savage hybrids leapt upon the soldiers in a furious onslaught. They had the teeth and faces and fur of canines but were hunched like apes and walked as readily on two feet as on four. The half-beasts likely waited for lost and parched animals to wander into these rambling fissures in search of mudwater to sip. Far easier prey than Reapers. The soldiers emptied their bows into the animal-men. Yet more came. So compelled by hunger to flaunt their own lives. The taste of flesh was worth risking their own.

The Reapers kept their backs together. There were two of the mongrels for every man. The fanged brutes took turns antagonizing them. The commandos' bolts were spent and they now resorted to blades. The wights were shrewd. They timed their attacks, waiting for openings. One by one the heckling beasts dropped. Vulture cackled and buried his hatchet in a skull. The animalist was animal. Intoxicated with blood. Face stained with death. The Reapers butchered the lycans with axe and sword.

The chorus of bestial snarls was met by a human one. A wolf wight caught Blacwin's forearm with a hot slash of its festering paw. This was one of last monsters that still stood. The Reapers hacked it into quivering sections.