Dark Earth: Nocturne (I)

CHAPTER 6: Dreadspeaker

They stood amongst the trees, huddled back-to-back as the misted lanterns enclosed around them —the glowing shapes surrounding these lanterns seemed to float along with the fog. All four of the hunters, crossbows aimed at the enemy as they faced the unknown from each side, expressed seemingly hopeless aggression and desperation. They needed to find a way out.

"They're not moving!" Layne yelled out emphatically towards Ren, who stared back at him, equally concerned.

"I have a backup plan!" Ren exclaimed, her suddenly confident voice a shimmering light amongst the sickly glow of the fishers' approaching lures; "Let's hear it!" Layne replied, sweating as if he were drenched in cold rain. "Just follow me, I'm going to cut a path through them!" she relayed, motioning her hand as if telling the group to fall in behind her. "Trust me on this!"

She waited for a sizable space to open up, and ran eastwards into the fog; several of the lights facing that direction seemed to turn away, and followed her at a similar pace —disappearing in their pursuit. After about five seconds, Layne took off after her, hoping to pass the fishers stealthily as he caught up; he dared not look behind him, because this time it would surely be the death of him. Even so, he could hear their quiet rasps and growls as they gave a slow chase. He called out to Ren: "I'm right behind you!"

      Regardless of whether or not she heard his voice, he also had something else to worry about: Nat and Gain were nowhere to be seen. 

Great.

      He could hear shouting from behind him, vaguely making out Nat's voice, and then he heard the clashing of claws and daggers; there was a struggle going on, —and a wild one at that. She could handle herself, he thought, especially with Gain at her side; they should be able hold their ground until he and Ren returned.

      While lost in his thoughts, Layne had forgotten to watch where he was going —he'd been running with his eyes fixed on the ground, looking up just in time to notice that a familiar looking fisher had stalked out of the mist, turning itself in his direction. When last he met the creature, it was roughly the same size as him, but now the soul fisher had grown several feet taller, was wider, and had become much more muscular. If he'd had to guess, it looked like it had somehow fused with the two others he'd seen alongside it.

     He stopped. Took aim with his crossbow. This was the same one that had first attacked him in his dream; it fixed a glare as if it also remembered him, —opening its cavernous, fang-filled mouth wide, just like it did in the dream; as the fisher lolled out its tongue-like predatory appendage, he noticed it still had the knife wound from when he stabbed it, which for some reason did not bleed — but nor had it healed. He then had a moment of realization: soul fishers technically classified as undead or demonic entities.

      Still keeping his gaze fixed on the enemy, Layne lowered his crossbow, crouched slowly, and set it down as the fisher prepared to lash out and grab him with its tooth-tongue, reaching for his dagger. He grabbed the handle and unsheathed it to inspect the nearly foot-long blade, holding it up in front of him just to be sure of his suspicions. He was correct.

      Helical silver.

      Layne smiled with a grin which could metaphorically rival that of his opponent, practically laughing at his unwitting genius. The soul fishers —or at least this one— had a weakness.

      All fear left him.

       He flipped the blade forward, and ran at the fisher in preparation to attack, with any doubts about his ability to confront it at the back of his mind; anticipating his obvious intent, it wrapped its' appendage around his waist, pulling him to the ground and slowly dragging him towards its waiting maw. Layne winced as the tongue constricted around his ribs and the teeth dug into his flesh, acting like frictional saws and cutting deep —drawing blood instantly. Still, he refused to let go of the dagger; right now, it represented not only his life, but also his soul.