Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

30. The Cure

William

William knew Death, and she traveled with them. She trailed every step and shared every breath. The stench of death had yet to take, but it would in two days. One day. An hour. A minute.

Oscar's teeth chattered louder than a fork scraping against a plate. His rifle rattled, captured beneath his pale fingers. The gray sky greeted them, somber as every day prior. Snow coated their uniforms, dampened their hair, and bit at chapped, peeling lips. Death would take many in the cold, biting at exposed skin and curling around those in hiding, hoping being still would spare them. The rest would be lost to the beasts Fearworn set in their path.

"Never stop moving. A moment of hesitation will get you killed," William warned. The battle horns raged. Thousands of soldiers pushed through the trees towards a location only the generals knew. "Stay with a group and if you thought you heard something, you did."

Oscar nodded, eyes wide with fear, as if he had seen the future and it was bleak.

"Do not rely solely on your guns. They will fail you more often than not. You have a knife, use it."

Oscar patted his side in search of the blade. He gripped the handle and swallowed hard.

Another blast of the horn in immediate succession. They had arrived.

The ground shook and cracked open like the undead had come to reclaim the living world. Oscar clung to William's arm with a hold so fierce it bruised. Beasts known and new burst from the soil to color the sky in inky darkness. Fearworn had hidden himself underground. His monsters scurried to the surface like ants protecting their hill. A musky scent permeated the air, followed by gunpowder.

Cracks like thunder and the sting of metal against bone overtook the once silent terrain. Bodies crushed together in their attempt to run. Soldiers screamed to calm their nerves, or they saw excitement in the coming bloodshed. Beasts cut through their ranks, picking up men to rip in half. Blood came down like rain, streaking winter with crimson.

Oscar's rifle fired. A grump fell, shrieking from the bullet in its chest. Another lunged over soldiers, claws and fangs bared. William shoved Oscar aside. He was too busy deciding to load his gun or use a dagger. William caught the grump by one horn and rammed a blade through ribs. The grump yowled, then he twisted, and the creature fell dead.

"If you aren't sure whether to use a gun or a knife, use your knife," William said, unclear if Oscar listened. His dim eyes fell to the grump, then the chaos around them.

A boisterous roar hurtled towards them. William leapt away from a debrak dashing through the soldiers. Its heavy steps crushed unfortunates in its path. The beast flailed its head wildly, sharp horns tearing soldiers apart. The debrak caught men in its paws and shredded them faster than a toddler with wet paper. Guns fired, bullets pierced its abdomen and shoulders. One arm swatted at the soldiers as if they were no more than flies. William shifted further through the ranks, knowing he'd die too if he stayed crushed like this, but he lost sight of Oscar.

"Oscar!" He called to no avail. The young soldier had vanished. All he could do was hope Oscar survived long enough for Nicholas to end this war.

William swerved around battles to find ailing soldiers. Those with minor injuries capable of healing were taken care of, then returned to the fray. Between the ruckus, he kept a watch for Nicholas. Though he would be hard to spot among the debris. Mages and fae battled with all their might. Towers of flame touched the clouds. Howling gales swept beasts off their feet to impale them in trees. A fae confused a group of grumps with copies of herself that burst into a puff of smoke when they landed an attack.