Page 31 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Thirty-One

C orpse-eaters.

They’re more grotesque than I could have ever imagined. Low growls and snorts fill the air as the beasts prowl across the valley. The one nearest us hasn’t noticed our presence yet, a blessing and a wonder, since we’re only about fifty feet from where it carves up the earth with its bloodied claws. It stalks back and forth, marking each pass with agitated strokes. Despite the graveyard of human remains, this corpse-eater has all the markings of starvation. Its ribs shift with every movement, pressed tightly against sallow skin.

“Why do they not sense us?”

“They’re drawn to the scent of death,” Cadoc hisses, elbowing me in the side. “Good thing we don’t reek like a day-old body left out in the sun, yes?”

Give us a few more days on the road and we’ll see.

“They say corpse-eaters were human once,” Neith whispers to me. “That a plague claimed th’crops o’ an ancient civilization, leaving them starving. They started eating their dead because they had nothin’ else to sustain them, and eventually they stopped waitin’ for death t’choose their next meal. Whether it was diseased flesh, or th’curse o’ eatin’ fellow humans, a new monster was born.”

A shiver creeps up my spine. Back in Smarighad, we had a similar tale of creatures born from unspeakable acts. How the taste for living flesh alters the soul, inviting darkness to take root. But they are just stories. The very real horrors on our doorstep didn’t need the help of magical forces.

Neith continues, “They aren’t picky. They’ll consume ye where ye stand should they realize ye’re nearby. But they’re drawn t’the dead who aren’t properly buried or burned.”

All of the times we carefully disposed of bodies come to mind. Even in Hollowden, burial rites or funeral pyres were swiftly held. As soon as the medic confirmed death, the process began. With or without next of kin. Even in Bridgebarrow, when I’d trip over a poor soul succumbing to disease or starvation, I never stumbled upon the same body twice. The guards always cleared them out without delay. I assumed this was to halt further disease from infesting the populace, but what if it was to prevent attracting the corpse-eaters?

Jaromir leads us deeper into the forest, putting some distance between us and the beast carving up the dirt as it paces the bloody field. “Sylvaine can stay here under the cover of the trees. The three of us will draw them away, closer to the mountain’s entrance, and try to pick them off one by one.”

I glare at him, even while he refuses to face my ire. There is no way I’m staying back here and hiding while they run into danger.

“Care for a wager?” Cadoc asks, tugging his scarf down and grinning. “Whoever slays the most wins an extra ten percent of the share from the two losers.”

“I’m not staying behind.”

Neith responds to Cadoc as if I haven’t spoken. “Make it fifteen percent.”

I shake my head, anger tightening my hands into fists.

“Oh? Feeling lucky, are we?”

“I dinnae need luck. I trust my skill.”

I pat the short sword strapped to my belt before yanking my shepherd’s sling from my pocket and counting each rock bulging in my belt pouch. Twenty. It’s a good thing I’ve taken to collecting round stones when I spot them. Jaromir glances at me, his mouth firming in a disapproving line as I ready myself.

“I’m not hiding. If you wish me to stay back to take up the flank, so be it. But I’m helping. Is there anything I should know about these beasts? Weaknesses? A special way to kill them?” Welkin help us if they require fire. Although, if they did, wouldn’t the dragon have slain them all?

Why does the dragon allow their presence?

Neith arches a brow at me. “They dinnae require anything more than a mortal wound. But they are fast. Strong. Unpredictable.”

“Nothing about these things is human,” Cadoc says with an uncharacteristically solemn expression. “You can’t hesitate; you can’t reason with it. Your pretty mouth will get you killed if you don’t strike first.”

I wasn’t going to try talking to one, but clearly, I haven’t been wholly forgiven for Aeron’s death.

“Fine.”

Jaromir lets out a low noise before spinning to face me. “You aid us from afar and from a high vantage point. If anything happens to us, you do not come down. You either stay put or run back to the horses. Do you understand?”

“I’m not a child.”

“So help me, if you do not agree to these terms, I will carry you back, tie you to Turnip, and send you to the next village. Do you understand?” His dark eyes flash, and he grips my shoulders, but a slight tremble gives him away.

His fear means they are downplaying the danger of the situation.

All the more reason for my help.

“I agree to these terms.”

“This is a verbally binding contract.”

I roll my eyes, hoping to disarm him. “Yes, I know. I’m obligated to keep my word. We both know how much you love your contracts.” The words slip from my tongue with far too much ease, and his face tightens.

“Good,” he says, before releasing me.

I head for a large oak and leap into one of its many branches, climbing with ease. I’ve always favored this type of tree for its many thick limbs. It makes leaping to another tree easy. I only hope these creatures can’t climb.

Once I’m settled, I glance down to where Jaromir waits, gazing up at me with unreadable eyes. He pulls his sword from its sheath before creeping away. I tiptoe to the furthest point of the branch I can without swaying the limb or popping into view. I yank my slingshot free and balance a few stones in front of me.

I peek out from between the canopy of green leaves because it’s far too quiet.

The whisper of a whistle and a hard thunk are all I hear before the prowling corpse-eater slumps forward, one of Cadoc’s arrows juts from its skull. Jaromir slinks along, keeping low and silent as he stalks another monster. He angles his sword, and thrusts, piercing the space where the head meets the neck.

If they can keep picking them off one by one like this, we’ll be in that cave in no time.

But what happens when we enter the cave?

Damn the voice of worry and reason in the back of my head. It’s a terrible spoilsport.

A sharp screech fills the air. I snatch a stone from the branch and line it up in my sling. Neith’s sword protrudes from the belly of a corpse-eater, holding it skewered in place while it lets out a warning scream. Neith yanks her dagger from her belt, swiftly cutting its throat and silencing it.

But it’s too late.

The beast’s cry has echoed through the entire valley.

He’s just rung the dinner bell.

Snorts and growls fill the air, as dozens of corpse-eaters run to where Jaromir, Neith, and Cadoc have made a sort of triangular formation so no one’s back is exposed.

Shit.

I pull and release, sending a stone flying to the nearest beast. It pegs the corpse-eater in the back of the head, sending it careening to the ground and momentarily stunning it.

I aim another, slinging it into its throat. Black blood oozes from the wound, spilling down its scarred chest. Jaromir takes the opportunity, forcing his blade through its gut.

I can’t help like this. Not really. I’m too far out of range for any true damage. I know what Jaromir said, but he’s wrong.

With shaky hands, I climb down the tree, landing soft on my feet. I’m already running. Running out of the cover of the forest, running into the field, into where the smell of decaying blood is strongest. Jaromir’s cloth still covers my nose and mouth, and the material is damp against my face.

More creatures surround them. Surround Jaromir. He’s covered in black blood and showing no signs of fatigue. His eyes lift, widening in horror as he sees me.

I aim for the corpse-eater he hasn’t noticed yet, the one barreling for him while he hacks away at another. The stone hits it square in its temple, stunning it and dropping it to the ground. Jaromir glances over his shoulder then back at me with a scowl.

I yank the short sword free from my belt, eager to prove my mettle, and take up my pace again, running to where Jaromir fights monster after monster.

Cadoc is perched on a tall boulder, aiming his bow with swift and expert finesse.

Neith keeps both sword and dagger constantly in motion, spinning and slashing.

Something knocks into my side, launching me to the ground and rattling my teeth. I roll away, keeping a firm grasp on my sword while avoiding its edge. My vision whirls from the motion, but before I can right myself, a heavy body lands on top of me, pinning me in place.

I gag as the putrid scent of death fills my senses.

The monster is more horrifying up close. Its black eyes glare down at me, lips curling to reveal rows of jagged brown teeth. Where a nose should be, is just open skin and two slits. A low growl rumbles above me, and a trail of saliva spills onto my shoulder.

All strength flees my body, leaving behind quavering terror and spinning thoughts.

I’m dead. I’m going to die. I’m going to be eaten alive, and how much pain can the body withstand before the blessed relief of shock kicks in?

Distantly, the sound of Jaromir’s shout pulls me back.

With a cry, I thrust my sword up into its belly, twisting and plunging through flesh and bone and sinew.

Black blood pours over me, and the rotten smell intensifies. I gag, turning my head to the side as my stomach heaves. The beast slumps, falling even heavier over me. With a grunt, I tip it to the side, scrambling to pull myself out from underneath its large body.

A hard grip finds my shoulder. I’m yanked to my feet and spun around. Jaromir’s face fills my vision. He’s ripped his scarf down below his chin, and panic twists his blood-splattered expression.

“You’re all right?”

I don’t trust my voice right now, so I nod.

Relief softens the tightness around his eyes. He yanks me into his arms, and I’m hugging him back, resting my head against his chest and leaning into his warmth. His filthy, blood-coated warmth.

His hand finds the back of my head, running gently through my hair in a soothing motion. “Blazing abyss, Syl. If anything happened to you…” He clears his throat, holding me even tighter. “We had an agreement. You were to keep your distance.”

I pull back enough to stare up at him. “Yes, well, the problem with verbal contracts is the lack of notary presence to verify such a legal claim. It’s a nasty business of ‘he said, she said,’ don’t you think?”

Jaromir’s brows lift, and finally the corner of his mouth concedes the fight against his smile. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He tugs me close again, tucking my head under his chin, and I go willingly, sinking in this stolen moment where nothing exists outside of—

“Wait! The corpse-eaters!” I shove away from him. We can’t stand here blissfully unaware of the bloody scene around us and the ever-present threat of death.

Jaromir glances over his shoulder, to where Cadoc and Neith are tallying up their kills. “We broke down the horde, and most of the stragglers ran off. If one or two slink back, we can handle them.”

I study the carcass of my single kill, ignoring the queasy feeling in my gut. “So… do I get marks for any assists I made?”

His mouth twitches. “Yes, Syl. You can claim any kill I made with your aid.”

“Good.” I nod and stumble past him toward Neith and Cadoc. Jaromir makes no sound as he follows me, but I feel his steadying presence at my back. It’s awfully dangerous that he remains such a comfort. My heart is a bloody fool and intent on making me suffer all over again. The greedy tart.

I clear my throat as if it will clear my thoughts. “I only want a fair shot at winning the title of most kills.”