The Wisterian

Chapter 34: Market Crash

Shadows descend from the mists, her army, silent save for the rhythmic clopping of their boots. They freeze in formation at the edge of the forest, and this time not a single one dares to break rank. Briar raises her arm, making a fist before slamming it back down to her side.

A surge of bodies flies past her, charging up the road. She struggles to keep pace with Reed, his halting limp much faster than her shorter legs can travel.

The army splits as they reach the market road. Half her forces swing around the garden wall, heading to the wisteria tree, the other half marches to the market. The skittering of claws and flapping of wings greet them as they approach the mills. Unnatural piercing wails reach a fever pitch in the granary.

Briar, tucked into the middle of the force, marches down the mill town road. The strike of axes and thump of spears sounds distantly ahead. The first wave initiated. She can almost hear the gnashing of teeth.

A fine mist of snow descends, coating the violent scenes in hazy white. Not quite dampening the danger, but obscuring some of the worst images. She presses forward.

"Shields up!" She shouts above the fray.

Long boards pass up throughout the ranks, flanking the road and forming a low-moving wall funneling the creatures up the market road. A steady rhythm takes over. March. Push. March. Push. The army slows to a halt, those in front straining to hold back the formidable beasts. The makeshift shields groan under the weight, pushing back.

Briar jogs to the front, leaning her weight against the boards. A creaking snap cracks to her left, one of the boards break, and creatures spill through the ranks. Snarling snapping teeth attack from all angles.

"Hold the line!" She calls, voice strained and almost panicked. Things are not going to plan. Shit.

A Skvader latches onto her bracer, teeth inching their way through the thick material. Another bites at her boots. She kicks at a needle-covered, owl-like creature, punting it up and over the wall. Chunks of moss fly from a rabid Ekorre as she punts another.

And another. Until the area around the missing board clears. She grips a second board with one hand, splinters digging into the exposed flesh around the half gloves. It's all for nothing. Her soldiers retreat, fleeing from the tempestuous beasts.

Reed appears at her left, shouldering multiple planks by himself. He sends her a warning glance, hiking a thumb at the rapidly disappearing ranks.

She shakes her head stubbornly, setting her shoulder into her own board. She's not going to fail. She can't.

This has to work.

Reed winces as a board wrenches from his hands. Creatures flood past them.

Briar's heart shatters, clawed from her chest as she looks past the fallen ranks and into the jaws of a thousand voracious beasts. Fear pricks the edges of her stubborn features.

"Fall back!" She shouts, spirit sinking in defeat.

This isn't working.

The creatures swarm on the fallen. The battle fills with the sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone. Red splatters on the frozen ground stand starkly against the fresh white snow drifts crowding the road. She can't stop staring.

Reed yanks on her vest, and her limbs begin to churn. She hurdles over the husks of fallen friends and races behind the lines of battle to regroup.

They must work fast if any of them are going to survive.

"Plan B!" She yells to the rear squadron. The squeaking wheels of a wagon cut high above the din of battle. Laden heavily with the fruits of the orchard. Those that have been bitten take the lead. Without a healer, they are already dead on their feet.