Serul and Ganir were a good help, Deadrick admitted to himself reluctantly. They knew the forest like the back of their… paws.
The flower grew in damp places, Deadrick knew that much, and followed the wolves into a small cave, where growing at the far end, was a tall, winding flower that grew out at the top with vibrant colours that almost seemed to light the cave itself.
Deadrick went to grab the stalk, but as his fingers touched it, he pulled away with a gasp. He checked his hand. Through tiny, miniscule cuts in his glove blood trickled freely.
“Stupid plant,” He growled, as he pulled a knife from it’s sheath, and sliced the stalk in half.
It fell to the floor, and Deadrick picked it up quickly, as though it was about to run away.
He stuffed it into his bag, and left the cave quickly.
“We must move quickly,” That was Serul, “ Bruad was weak when we left, every minute wasted is another step for him into the afterlife,”
Deadrick didn’t plan to waste time, Nerui had been a fool mindlessly following Skrule to the camp… a lucky fool, he begrudgingly admitted, but nevertheless a fool. He couldn’t wait to get back to the Windlider and out of this horribly enclosed forest.
Ganir stopped in his tracks.
“Deadrick…” He growled quietly, “You smell that?”
Deadrick couldn’t smell anything, but he could feel it. Running down his spine, a cold trickle like iced water. Unholy were coming. A large number of Unholy.
He pulled his gun from it’s holster.
“Danyel! Get ready,” He snarled, as Danyel fumbled about for his sword.
They watched the clearing intently… but nothing came.
“What the hell…” Deadrick said, his spine still tingling uncontrollably.
“Maybe we were mistaken-“ Ganir was interrupted by a shrill scream, and a shadow interrupting from the bushes. He was thrown to the ground, the figure tearing at him with long, bloodied claws. His screams filled the night for a few seconds, as the creature jumped away and into the bush.
Deadrick shot blindly into the trees for a moment, before holstering the gun. Serul knelt over Ganir.
“Ganir… my brother…” He growled.
“What was that?” Danyel said, quietly, breathing sharply.
Deadrick looked around quickly.
“That was a Skenal, a lesser demon… a scout for a larger horde, Serul, they’re still coming,” Deadrick barked.
Serul exhaled, climbing to his feet.
“Let them come, and I shall tear them to shreds,”
The night air tuned cold, suddenly, as though something evil and unknown had plucked it away. Then there came a scream, then another, then another. Horrific, inhuman shrieks, filling the forest, reverberating off the trees and filling Deadrick’s ears.
As the screams reached a crescendo, Serul roared, bursting forward as another Skenal launched from the trees, the werewolf caught it with his huge paws, roaring as he pulled the screaming creature apart.
The trees were suddenly full of life, as a wall of Unholy threw themselves into the clearing.
Deadrick fired off six perfectly aimed shots, all striking flesh, throwing witches, werewolves and demons into the trees, but as one fell, another two filled their place.
Danyel swung his blade round in a circle, severing extremities from bodies, and sending sprays of blood into the air. Serul had entered full wolf mode, snarling and howling the name of his dead brother, viciously tearing any nearby creature apart.
The battle was violent, but short. As the last witch fell, Deadrick wiped a splatter of blood from his hat, and holstered his gun.
“That was a suicide attack, they were never going to win!” Danyel exclaimed, sheathing his sword.
“They found us specifically, it was a suicide attack… they knew we were here,” He said softly, “We need to get back to the camp,”