Astegur snorted, bending forward slightly, preparing to dive to the side and take out one more beast before—
A gust of wind breezed through them, bringing with it a ghastly green aura.
The centaurs grunted, drawing back the strings of their bows when a dozen thralls flooded between him and the warrior studs. He could not believe his eyes as they, in a frenzied, wild dance, began to stab, climb, maul, and tear at the centaurs.
Screams filled his ears as the chaos around his skull grew.
Astegur fell back while the studs were preoccupied, but not before several arrows pierced his chest. With his free hand, he gripped the shafts and broke them, grinding his teeth from the pain. The arrowhead remained embedded in his flesh and before the shafts hit the ground, he surged to the nearest centaur who was fighting off four thralls and slammed his axe into its leg. The beast fell to the ground with a grunt before vanishing under the thralls.
Within seconds, where a centaur had once been, became a bloody mass of flesh and bone as the thralls tore it apart.
He stumbled back, stunned, as several of the other studs quickly fell under the weight of the thralls, filling the air with gore and screams.
“What mist hell is this?” The centaur with the sword backed up, kicking at the thralls that rushed him. “Mists!” he cursed as he turned to run, stumbling in the mud.
Astegur drew back his axe as the stud made for his escape, and released it with glee. It caught in the centaur’s back leg, making him trip forward into the deeper swamps.
Astegur lost sight of the beast.
But the thralls, as one frightening mass, turned and rushed forward with outstretched fingers and wide bloody mouths, and piled atop what he could no longer see. The sounds that followed sickened and delighted his ears.
Astegur stepped forward to retrieve his weapon when the dying screams of the centaur vanished under the groans of the thralls. They backed off as he pushed through.
Blood was everywhere. Soaked into the mud far past his hooves and dripping off the grass. It was so thick, he tasted it in the air, filling his mouth with every inhalation. His axe was covered in it when he found it atop what was left of the centaur.
A barghest howled in the distance.
He picked up his axe and went to find his dagger. When his weapons were back in his hands, he hacked the heads off the centaurs who still had heads and tied them to his belt. Astegur winced from the pain in his chest and reached into his satchels to pull out some cove before realizing he had left his belongings back in Prayer.
He gritted his teeth and turned back toward the settlement, hearing the barghests grow closer when the thralls caught his eye again.
They moved around the clearing as if nothing had happened, like they had not just swarmed a half-dozen warhorses and tore them apart. He watched as they not only picked up their stakes, but also collected the centaurs fallen weapons. One by one, they turned back toward the green orbs, leaving nothing but a bloody trail back to Prayer.
The first barghest appeared right as the last thrall vanished in the mist. He swiveled back and struck his axe into the air right as it pounced, catching it in the mouth. It fell to the ground with a guttural whimper.
He readied for the next, but nothing came. His ears pricked up, listening for the howls from before, but there were none. Silence met him now, where minutes ago it had been chaos.
Something’s not right.
The strange, green breeze continued to blow across his skin, sending an already gauzy world into a disturbed one.
He bit through his pain and turned away from Prayer, following the tracks the barghest had made.
Barghests never hunted alone. They were always in packs. Astegur sheathed his axe and crouched down to the deepening water at his hooves, rinsing the blood off his hands and chest. He knew he should return to Calavia and guard her. He sensed her magic in the air around him. The green wind was a good indication that she was by his side, even if she wasn’t present.
But if there were more centaurs scouting around Prayer’s barriers, he needed to know. He needed to eradicate them before their numbers increased.
The trail continued on for a while, farther than he intended to go, when it stopped suddenly and a putrid smell flooded his senses. He stepped into a clearing piled high with barghest corpses.
He spat the rot from his mouth as his eyes took in the slaughtered beasts. There had to be dozens, if not more. Thick clouds of flies surrounded them.
His eye caught the broken reeds leading away from the pile of corpses on the opposite side of him, and he maneuvered around the charnel to continue along the trail.
He hadn’t taken three strides when the mist opened up around him.
Fire and smoke replaced the rot in his nose as he took in the scene before him. All around him, as far as he could see, were huge fire pits, blazing harsh and bright. The swamp waters were all but dried up in every direction.
His hands tensed at his sides. The outlines of several large tents came into view, and centaurs, stoking the fires, making more fires, and burning out the water filled his vision. There were too many to count. Too many for him to defeat, even with the help of Calavia’s thralls and her magic.
