Horde (Razorland #3)(15)

“Good enough,” Morrow said.

Thornton made a get-going gesture. “Then let’s move out. We don’t want to be here when another hunting party finds the corpses. They’ll take it personal.”

Which made me think Thornton knew about the change in Freak behavior. Maybe the colonel had shared some of her theories and observations with him. Our leader didn’t look interested in entertaining questions, however, and that made me miss Longshot even more. This wasn’t the time to try to figure things out, though. Too much rode on our diversion—too many innocent lives—for me to get distracted.

Unlike the progress to Salvation, we were noisy. Since it was our goal to attract hostiles and keep them from stumbling on the injured refugees, I stomped my feet like an angry child. With a puckish grin, Morrow got out his pipes. Thornton sighed over that, but he nodded his approval, then a merry melody echoed across the field. If the lilting tune didn’t draw more Freaks down on us, then they simply weren’t roving the area.

It was an odd procession through the woods. By the music that accompanied us, one could be forgiven for thinking it was a party and not the most dire of circumstances. I kept my weapons handy, listening at each crack of branches, each rustle of tall grass, but if the monsters were following us, they wouldn’t be subtle about it, surely. They had the numerical advantage and didn’t need to practice stealth or woodcraft.

Unless they’re following you to Soldier’s Pond.

Fade and I had thought that was why they didn’t attack the outpost initially; they were waiting for us to lead them to more humans. The silence as we moved along the river unnerved me. Distant trees swayed in the light breeze, limbs shifting like skeletal fingers. Each step I took I expected the horde to descend on us, but it wasn’t fear I felt so much as anticipation. Here, I was in my element, protecting those who needed me. Down below, I never expected to live long. As long as I went down fighting, I could be content.


We marched into the morning; as the sunlight brightened, Morrow played on. Soon enough his pipes drew down the next wave of monsters. They heard it from across the river, shallow enough to ford, and came loping across wet stones with fangs bared and claws extended. Tully drew her crossbow and loosed a quarrel to nail the closest one in the chest. I couldn’t hear the impact over the rush of the water, but the creature went down and the current bore it away, the water frothing pink as it carried the body over the rocks.

When the rest drew closer, Spence unloaded, shooting first with one gun, then the other. He dropped two, then Tully killed her second and third. By my count, that left ten, a smaller band than we’d faced before. There’s a group of one hundred hunting us. Or maybe not. It was possible they’d split up to cover more ground.

Please let the others have gotten away from Salvation.

Then there was no time for such thoughts. The monsters rushed up the riverbank and the battle was joined. I lashed out with my blades in crossing strikes that opened the Freak’s torso. Blood spattered from Spence’s next shot, and Morrow fought beside Dennis, his longer reach repelling the creatures from the younger man’s back. They were all fierce and solid fighters, worthy to be Hunters. Fade was savage in his determination, his movements so graceful they looked like dancing. As he wheeled, I waded in, and we traded blocks and parries, slices and slashes with a natural elegance that moved me to my core.

All’s not lost. We still have this.

With anyone else, I would have feared a misplaced blade, but Fade always knew precisely where I was. I never flinched, even when his dagger cut through the air, narrowly missing my arm and embedded in the Freak lunging toward me. He twisted the blade to widen the wound, and the strange stink hung heavy in the air, overwhelming the clean spray of the river and the crushed green scent of grass trampled underfoot. The birds were quiet in the reeds, and I heard no insects chirping, only the roar of my heart as I defended with all my skill.

A second wave hit us as we battled the first. Ten was easy; twenty became chaotic. Spence fired ferociously, keeping them off Tully, and Morrow’s blade sliced through a beast charging straight at Dennis. Two more pushed through his guard, and I raised my knife to throw it. Too slow. Dennis went down beneath their combined weight, and by the time Morrow and I finished them, he was clutching his torn stomach, blood burbling out of his mouth.

The rest of us surrounded our injured cohort in a protective circle. I fought near Fade and Morrow, determinedly cutting down the monsters as they charged. Likely it was exhaustion, but the numbers seemed endless. My motions became clumsy as I blocked, letting a Freak push me back a step. Fortunately the others were enraged by their comrade’s condition, and they fought like a hundred men.

Thornton broke the last one’s neck and then kicked it for good measure. Breathing hard, I went down to the water to rinse my blades and then my hands. I wished Tegan was here. Maybe she could help Dennis.

“How bad is it?” I asked, kneeling beside Morrow.

“He won’t make it.” There was an awful finality in his voice.

Thornton dropped to his knees. “How do you want to play it, son?”

For a few seconds, I thought he was talking to Morrow, but the older man gazed down at Dennis, their eyes locked. “Make it quick, Pa.”

“Aye,” Thornton said.

In a dreadful, tender gesture, he scooped Dennis into his arms and carried him to the river. There, he held the boy’s head in the water until he stopped struggling. When Thornton drew up the body, it was all limp limbs and bloody shirt. The older man’s expression, as he cradled the young one, hurt me to witness, so I looked away.