Overlord

40

Aston couldn’t believe the speed with which the mist had encroached and smothered everything. He had definitely seen Slater and Syed, with Larsen and two other armed men. As he ran toward them, he had caught a glimpse of something, of someone, in the edge of the water, holding up a kind of small statue that shone a bright green. He was quickly becoming sick of anything green. He would kill for a chance to gaze once again upon a blue sky. And he had a feeling he would have to kill to do so. He was fine with that.

Another thing he had seen as he ran towards them was Slater glance in his direction, her face splitting in a grin of recognition just before the mist had swallowed her up. He had to keep going in that direction, he couldn’t lose her again now, not this close.

The fog was cold against any exposed skin, its touch like frozen silken fingers brushing him. He blinked in surprise as rain spattered his face, momentarily confused by it, then it came again. Not rain, he realized, but spray from the water that had begun to roil. He heard it now, churning and splashing, repeatedly sending up the spray that rained over them all.

“What’s happening?” Tate yelled.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Let’s get to Slater and Syed and then get the hell out of here.”

He caught hints of movement in the rolling mist, then jumped as bursts of gunfire popped and barked, bright orange bursts of muzzle flash briefly penetrating the green-tinged whiteness. He crunched in on himself as he ran, trying to cower and move at the same time, hoping no stray bullets came his way. What the hell were they shooting at? He hoped it wasn’t Slater and Syed.

“Look!” Jen called out from a few paces behind.

He turned to see where she pointed and saw bigger shapes scurrying, half-shrouded in the fog. “Damn!” he hissed, watching the unmistakable outline of mantics swarming past. He heard a scream, both high-pitched and muffled by the fog at the same time. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female, and he desperately hoped it wasn’t a friend.

A mantic burst out of the fog right in front of him and he cried out, automatically bringing up the bloodstone spear he carried. He put his weight behind it and drove it at the creature’s face. He had a moment of elation watching darkness burst out as it sank into the mantic’s eye, but flinched away as the thing’s head exploded in a blinding flash of bright green surrounded by black shadow. Messy, but damned effective, he thought.

Then he realized that the spear’s shaft had broken, the bloodstone point lost somewhere among the mantic’s remains. It was good the bloodstone worked against them, but not if it only worked once like that. There were far too many to make it a viable defense. He drew the bloodstone dagger from inside his jacket, thinking he would be better able to keep hold of it than rely on shafts of who knew what scavenged junk. Tate stood beside him, a dagger in one hand, her spear in the other. Jen stood on his other side, her own bloodstone dagger held out in front of her, the three of them isolated in the fog as screams and gunfire and mantic shrieks echoed around them.

Another shadow approached, and Aston crouched, ready to fight.Then he realized the shape was human. He wondered if it might be Slater or Larsen, but as the figure appeared out of the gloom he was astounded to see it was Sol, battered but very much alive.

“Is it good to see you!” Sol said.

“How the hell did you survive?”

“Honestly, more by luck than anything. I fell into a crevice in the rock which bought me a few seconds and I somehow managed to crawl aside of the bastards that knocked me down. They couldn’t get to me, too big to fit. Then I managed to escape into a tunnel. Not without a souvenir, though.” He turned one leg to show them the back of his thigh where an ugly gash soaked his pants in scarlet. “I’ve lost rather a lot of blood. Feeling a bit weak, if I’m honest.”

Aston was amazed at the man’s resilience, but he’d take all the help he could get right now. “How did you get here?”

“I don’t know. I was just trying to stay ahead of the mantics, then I heard noise and came in this direction. What’s in here? Seems like a big cavern. Why all the mist?”

Aston barked a short laugh. “Mate, you have no idea.”

Another burst of gunfire ripped through the air, and then they heard the high-pitched keening that told them one of the mantics had gone down.

“Larsen is back,” Aston said. “He’s got some armed goons in tow. He’s also got Slater and Syed. We need to find them.”

Before he could say more, something burst from the fog and slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. He brought his dagger half up before spotting the swish of long dark hair and realized it was Slater sitting awkwardly on top of him where they’d fallen.

“Thank God!” she gasped and planted a kiss on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise and she quickly broke away, realizing what she’d done. He didn’t mind at all.

She rolled off him and stood, and he rose quickly behind. Despite her embarrassment, he pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She returned the embrace, her face pressed into his shoulder. “Me too. But what the hell is going on?”

Syed was with her, the six of them huddled together in the swirling fog.

“Something significant is happening,” Syed said. “But I have no idea what!”

“No shit,” Sol said. “But I think I saw somebody sitting in the water, holding up something that shone like an emerald flame. You think he’s the one stirring all this up?”

“That’s Digby O’Donnell,” Slater said.

Aston turned to her, stunned. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. We got a good look right before this thicker fog swept in.”

More gunfire popped and muzzles flashed, thankfully moving a little further away from them, but other shadows still moved in the clouds that swirled close like curtains, chilling their skin.

“What the hell is he doing?” Aston asked.

“Who cares?” Sol said, wincing as he pressed a hand to his wounded leg. Blood oozed between his fingers. “All I care about is getting out of here. If he—”

Sol Griffin didn’t finish his sentence as a massive, writhing black tentacle whipped out of the mist, coiled around him, and swiftly carried him away. The others stood stunned, watching as the large man was lifted high into the air, roaring in defiance. After a couple more seconds his roar turned to a scream that died wetly. Presumably, Sol Griffin had died too.

“What the fuck was that?” Tate said, eyes wide as full moons.

Another tentacle appeared, slick and black, most definitely solid, and thicker around than Aston’s waist, lined with suckers the size of teacups. This one writhed behind them, feeling its way around in the fog. Reflexively, Jen Galicia, standing nearest to it, swept her bloodstone dagger across the top of its slick black surface. Dark shadow burst up from the point of impact, then a bright green ichor pulsed up and the tentacle drew back. Aston was pleased to see the dagger hadn’t been destroyed by the act.

“I think we should all run!” he shouted, and as one they took off into the mist, staying close together and putting the horrendous ocean behind them.