A Circle of Iron

Chapter 6

The wight looked up and locked eyes with Thorn, and it hissed at him. Blood covered its cheeks and its chin and dripped from its lips. The wight was female. It was uncovered from the waist up and he could see the small tits, the nipples painted in bright green swirls. He frowned. Something was wrong; it was right there in front of him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. You’re watching a wight feeding on a woman. Maybe that’s what feels off.

Mara moved into the room and cast the net. The wight dropped her victim and tried to dart aside, but the net settled over her head and one side of her body. She tumbled to the floor, shrieking in a high keening voice that set Thorn’s teeth on edge and reverberated in the small chamber.

No time for thinking. Thorn moved forward, thrusting the torch at the wight’s face, maneuvering into position to finish it with his sword. Mara was silent, but he could feel her presence just behind him and to his left. Absurdly, Thorn’s attention was drawn back to the wight’s breasts. Something nagged at him. What was he missing?

It dawned on him in an instant. He’d only caught a fleeting glimpse, but the wight he’d seen take the woman had been male. And it wasn’t wearing green body paint. “There’s another—” he yelled, and then Mara grunted in pain and surprise.

He turned and saw her slump to the floor against the wall. There was a flash of white and the dull glint bronze, and then the male wight was on him. It barreled into him, impossibly fast, and slammed him against the wall. Thorn’s head snapped back and cracked into the stone, and his vision blurred. He thrust blindly with the torch and heard flesh sizzle, and his nostrils filled with the stench of burning hair. The wight made a sound like metal screeching on metal. A line of fire traced across Thorn’s ribs. He saw the wight’s blade and his own blood on it.

Thorn raised his sword and brought it down in a vicious strike at the wight’s neck, but he was too close, off balance, and the wight was too fast and too strong. It slapped his sword arm aside and the blade sparked as it clattered on stone. The wight thrust with its knife and Thorn grabbed its arm, pulling the creature in even closer. Now they were both off balance and they stumbled and went down. The wight rolled on top of Thorn and slammed the knife down at his chest. Thorn caught the wight’s wrists and only then realized he’d dropped his sword. The wight held the knife in both hands and pressed down. Blood dripped from the knife tip and spattered Thorn’s face.

The wight’s inhuman strength and most of its weight pressed down on the blade, and Thorn strained against it. The tip bit into the flesh of Thorn’s throat and he felt blood trickle down his neck. The wight grinned savagely, showing its fangs, and licked its lips. Then Thorn saw a figure rise up behind the wight, a dagger of its own gripped in one fist and lifted over its head. Quinix’s eyes were wide and his hands were shaking, but he slammed the dagger into the back of the wight’s neck. The blade burst point-first from the creature’s throat and sprayed blood over Thorn’s face. More of the dark fluid gurgled from its mouth, and the wight teetered and collapsed in a heap, Quinix’s dagger still buried to the hilt in its neck.

“I killed it,” Quinix said, his voice quavering. He started to lean down to retrieve his blade, then thought better of it and wiped his hands on his tunic.

Thorn groaned and spat blood from his mouth. Some of it was the wight’s, but most of it was his own. Must have bitten my tongue. The back of his head was pounding and the cut along his ribs blazed with pain every time he drew breath. Thorn was still on the dusty floor feeling around for his sword when the second wight leaped on Quinix’s back and sunk her teeth into his neck.

The wizard fell to his knees, his eyes bugging out. His mouth gaped and a choking, strangled sound came out. The wight drew back from the wizard’s neck, blood on her face, hissing at the iron torq. Big Odd loomed in the dim light, hunched over nearly half in the close space, and the tip of his spear burst from the front of the wight’s chest. She screamed and clawed at the thick shaft.