Shadows of the pack

Chapter Eight - The Shadow Abyss part II

Cain’s POV

I picked some of the purple herb that looked exactly like the drawing on the back of the map the Sorceress gave me. Seb was running out of time, so I had to hurry, though I couldn’t help looking around the forest nervously each time I heard a sudden sound. Birds kept chirping from the trees occasionally, their sudden cries making my heart jump each time. The moment I finished picking the leaves and wrapped them in my bag, I threw the bag straight onto my back and started running back the way I came.

After journeying for a while, checking the map and the trees I’d marked on my way into the abyss, I could tell I was almost out of the forest. But there was no time to rest. I had to keep moving—away from the danger and closer to Sebastian.

At last I could almost see the entrance of the forest. My heightened senses relaxed knowing that I’d certainly make it out of here. That’s when I saw it.

A clearing stretched wide ahead of me. But I hadn’t passed through any clearing on my way in, I was certain of it. The atmosphere got thicker with each step I took, pressing against my skin like a warning. The creature stood in the center of the clearing, and the sight of it made my blood run cold.

It looked almost human. Its gaze was set upon the soil as if it was studying its own feet while its head hanged forward like a sleepwalker. Perhaps I could slip past it and avoid it altogether. So I thought.

Then it raised its head.

Its eyes locked onto mine, and it leaned forward at an unnatural angle like a drunk person, but I knew that pose too well. I’d seen predators position themselves like that before a strike. It was about to charge.

I drew my sword from its sheath. If there was one crucial lesson I’d learnt about supernatural creatures in my immortal life, it was this: always cut off their life source. I aimed for its head, hoping to s***h it off in one clean stroke.

The creature ran towards me, its feet barely touching the soil as it came for my neck. I dropped into a fighting stance—right leg forward, left leg back with enough space between them for quick movement. My left hand came up in defense while i gripped the sword firmly with my right hand.

As the creature closed in with its arms stretched towards my face, moving like a maniac, I batted its left arm aside with my free hand. The motion left its throat wide open. I reversed my grip on the sword and drove it upward through the creature’s throat, tearing its head clean off the body. The body hit the ground with a heavy thud and dark blood splattered across the clearing.

I took one step forward, ready to leave. Then I heard the rustling above me.

They dropped from the trees like rotten fruit—dozens of them, one after another. My stomach twisted as I realized what they were Zombies. But not like any I’d seen before. These ones moved with purpose and speed that shouldn’t be possible for the walking dead.

I grabbed my sword tighter, abandoned the sheath, and ran. The thought of becoming an immortal zombie consumed my mind, trapped in a rotting body for eternity, never able to die. I couldn’t let them bite me. I had to avoid them at all costs.

They poured after me with insane speed, their collective footsteps thundering behind me. Within seconds, they were on my tail, close enough that I could hear their rasping breaths. There was no outrunning these things. I had to fight.

One of them lunged for my jacket. I spun around just in time, grabbing a tree trunk to swing myself in a circle and kicking it square in the chest. It went down hard, but the others were already closing in. I dropped my bag and raised my sword. After all, I’d always been skilled with the blade, the time was just right to prove it.

I charged straight at the herd, sword ready in my right hand. It was a counter-intuitive move, one that would throw off their pack mentality. I launched myself into the air, twisting through their midst with my blade extended. Their heads rolled as I cut through them. It was a technique I’d learned from a notorious mercenary disguised as an Abbot in Oudagou. Devastating but exhausting, I hadn’t used it in decades.

I landed and immediately had to leap backwards as more rushed me. A writhing mass of gnashing teeth and grasping hands, and I was at the center of it. I used “The Jumping Sparrow,” a skill to propel myself back while keeping my sword ready. The blade flickered with old magic—a gift my sorcerer friend had imbued into it years ago.

But I could feel my body failing as my arms burned, and my lungs screamed for air. These techniques required practice and discipline, but I’d grown weary of fights. What need had I for fight anymore? I’d thought those days were behind me.

I changed tactics, conserving what little energy I had left. No more fancy moves. Just dodge and strike. Dodge and strike. I focused on the ones that got too close, severing heads when I could, piercing chests when I couldn’t. Some went down permanently. Others I just wounded, leaving them writhing on the ground.

By the time I grabbed my bag, my whole body shook with exhaustion. I ran before the wounded ones could rise again with my sword still gripped tight in my hand. The river was freezing when I plunged in, but I didn’t stop swimming until I reached the far bank. Behind me, the eerie sound and rustling of the abyss grew fainter with each stroke.

I dragged myself out of the water shivering violently. I was soaked to the bone, but I’d also survived the Shadowroot Abyss. That was more important.

My horse was exactly where I’d left her. I hauled myself into the saddle with trembling arms and urged her into a gallop, putting as much distance between us and that cursed forest as possible. My stomach growled with fierce hunger. I was so hungry I could have eaten tree bark at that moment.

But none of that mattered. I had the herbs. I’d survived. Sebastian would live. I was one step closer to saving him, and that was worth every moment of terror in that godforsaken place.