A Betrayal of Storms by Ben Alderson

Chapter 9

All I could do was listen as inhuman screams filled the living room beyond the closed door. The noise was terrible. A symphony of horror and dread which made my skin crawl. My conscience screamed for me to help Althea, but Erix guarded the door, stopping anyone or anything from entering as much as he kept me from leaving.

Amongst the sounds I tried to locate Althea, but it proved impossible over the thudding, crashing and smashing that occurred within the room.

"We have to help," I stuttered, finding it hard to speak over the turmoil of pressure in my chest.

Erix was as silent as a statue, and equally unmoving. Showing no signs of racing forward to help with whatever was happening between Althea and the Gryvern.

When he finally replied it did not help the burning desire to ignore the command and run back for Althea. "The only thing that needs help is the demon stupid enough to attack. Althea will be fine. It would be a far graver mistake to underestimate her."

A small, gargled shout of terror burst from me as something heavy thudded into the doors. Even Erix flinched, lifting the steady sword higher before him as though the doors would soon be ripped free from their hinges.

My heart thundered in my chest, ribs hardly able to contain it. Discomfort was my friend, a building of pressure that clawed itself up my throat, ready to burst free across the room.

It was Erix who startled next when a long blade sliced through the wooden door like a knife through melted butter. He stepped back, waving for me to keep away as a spreading of obsidian blood dripped from the blade's tip. The silver of the steel seemed to repel the gore, for it hardly left a smudge, only staining the white wood of the door where it dribbled into a puddle onto the floor.

He looked to me with his eyes full of confidence. "What did I tell you?"

There was no screeching or screams anymore. And it was clear that, whatever was pinned between the door and the blade, was dead. Or dying.

The door swung wide, exposing Althea who looked unharmed and unbothered, only a strand of red hair covered her gaze which she blew away with one great huff.

"The rest are retreating," she explained, breathless. I hardly took notice of her as I stared at the creature before me. It was in fact dying, but the blade that had pierced through its skinless neck kept it from making much noise. Thick, oily black blood popped and bubbled from the wound. The Gryvern was a bug caught beneath a pin, withering and flinching as death slowly took a hold of it. Grey, leathered wings hung limp at its side, its unnaturally long fingers and thin bent legs spasmed like a fish out of water.

And the stench that reached me almost had me doubling over, with my hands on my knees. It was rotten, the sweet and sickly smell of death, as if the creature before me represented it, even without the sword piercing its neck.

Holding a hand to my nose, I struggled to breathe, eyes watering and pain clenching my stomach.

This... this thing would haunt my memories for a long while, that I was confident about. Not only because of the dark blood, or grotesque figure, but because there was something so honestly... human about the creature. Looking at the Gryvern, ignoring the wings and horns, it could have been someone I knew. With features familiar, round ears and the shadows of a nose, mouth and hollowed spaces for eyes. It was just stretched and long and wrong. Wrong, so very wrong.

"...Robin, are you okay?" Erix stood before me and the dying creature, blocking my view.

"No." I shook my head, blinking rapidly to try and rid the image from my mind. Commotion before the living room told me those fey warriors who stood guard had entered, assessing the damage. And the damage was great. Where the window had been was now a gaping hole leading out to Aurelia. Dustings of gold leaves fell like snow beyond it, dancing in the light wind that now filled the room.