Touch of Fate

Chapter 7: Fresh Meat

[How could I be so stupid? I basically left up a giant sign saying "Yes! I'm from another world. Please drag me off to your science/torture/sex dungeon now."] Mike cursed internally while furiously try to interact with his status screen.

[Come on...there has to be a way...Aha!] With a little bit of effort he was able to deactivate his Multiverse Traveler title leaving his [Status] screen showing Title: None.

He blew out a sigh of relief, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his sudden panic, only to find a strange tension had settled over the group.

Beorn was holding his hand open, seemingly signaling a halt. He motioned Kaya with him and stepped back to confer with Morris. "Something's not right. We should have been challenged by the sentries by now." He sniffed the air a bit. "I smell smokeand blood." He grimaced, looking around at the group. "We're going in. Stay sharp and expect trouble. Morris, keep an eye on the boy and get the men ready for some close work."

Morris made his way back to the rest of the group and whispered a few quick instructions before drawing his sword. He paused as he reached Mike, before taking out a small dagger and passing it over handle first.

"Try not to hurt yourself with that." He said with a half-heated grin. "Stick close to me, I'll keep you safe."

Mike could only nod in response. He was working hard to control the unease threatening to overwhelm him.

As the group moved forward, they entered a lower lying area, largely clear of brush. The group spread out, keeping a close watch on their surroundings. The last vestiges of sunlight still dimly lit the area, letting Mike see a camp site taking shelter under a ring of particularly large trees. Crumpled forms could be seen lying on the ground both within and just outside the site. A slight metallic, coppery scent filled the air. Mike gulped down a sudden surge of bile.

A slight moan suddenly sounded from one of the bundles lying against a tree. One of the Order members stepped forward to investigate. Mike could see the concerned look on his face as he approached the tree. He was reaching down to move the crumpled form when Beorn suddenly cried out.

"Wait! It's a trap!"

The man turned to look back, when a high-pitched whine split the air. There was a flash of silvery light and suddenly the Order member's head was sent flying. As his body collapsed, Mike could a tall, shaven headed man dressed in ragged black leathers. A long, wickedly curved scimitar clutched in one hand, was held parallel to the ground above the fallen Order member.

Mike found himself trembling as examined the man. Scars covered almost every section of visible skin the man displayed. Most horrifying, however, was his face. Sections of his cheeks had been carved out displaying the teeth and gums beneath in a bizarre rictus of a grin. A palpable aura of dread seemed to drip from him as he waved forward towards the Order group.

This must have been a sign, because at his wave the forest erupted in a cacophony of screams and war cries, as dozens of ragged humanoid figures charged.

"Anhilites!" Beorn yelled. "Circle Up! Fire when ready!"

The Order members swiftly formed a circle around Mike and Morris, unlimbered their rifles in a smooth motion and fired into the oncoming horde. Mike could see several of the ragged shapes drop after the barrage, but it wasn't enough.

"Ready weapons!" Beorn called again. Eliciting a surge of movement as the Order members drew various swords, axes, and clubs. With one smooth motion, he pulled back his arm and threw his spear at the man with carved cheeks. Mike could barely follow its flight with his eyes, but the bald man simply leaned out of the way, letting it embed itself in the tree behind him. Without any consternation on his face, Beorn drew a massive greatsword and held it at the ready.

"Anhilites do no show mercy. They do not retreat. They do not surrender. We must break them or we will die." Beorn's grim words echoed through the forest, somehow cutting through the noise produced by the charging enemies. Mike hardly felt that this was an inspiring speech to be giving in the face of these monsters.

"Fear not brothers. You are all proud members of the Order of the Wheel. Guardians of the way. Driving back the darkness one step at a time." He paused to glance around the small circle before exclaiming in a sonorous voice. "Show them why we are feared by those who hide in the night!"

The Order members roared their own battle cries and stepped forward to meet the Anhilites in a collision of flesh and steel. The circle wavered as Order men were pushed back by the ferocity of the attack, but before long it stabilized as the small force was swiftly surrounded. Clutching the small dagger, there was little for Mike to do initially. The Order members maintained a strong defensive formation with Kaya and Morris serving as a ready reserve, stepping in whenever a particular member was having a hard time. Beorn protected a large section of the circle, wielding his greatsword with a speed that belied its obvious weight. However, it didn't take long for the first casualties to occur. One unlucky Order member took a knife through the eye and collapsed forward without making a sound. His nearby comrades tried to take over and hold the line, but in a flash the man with carved cheeks was there. His arm blurred twice and two Order members fell with bleeding gashes across their throats.

As the bald man stepped forward towards the unprotected backs of the rest of the formation, he was met by Morris and Kaya in a furious exchange of blows. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Anhilites poured through the opening in the formation and the fight dissolved into a furious and chaotic melee. It was all Mike could do to avoid being overrun. After a few furious seconds of scrambling, he found himself near the edge of the fighting.

Dodging out of the way of a pair of wrestling combatants, Mike was nearly struck by an overhead swing from an Anhilite wielding a bone club. Some preternatural instinct caused him to step aside just in time. Mike took some distance, also moving further away from the general combat, and looked over at the crazed man as he regained his balance. The Anhilite was dressed in rags and looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks, judging from the dirt and grime that caked his skin. Half the man's face was a mask of horrible burns scars that twisted his mouth into a constant lop-sided grimace. Mike could see a long trail of drool spilling from his permanently opened mouth as he raised his bone club a charged a second time. Without thinking Mike thrust his dagger forward with both hands. He felt a bit of resistance, and could only watch as his weapon slid into the other man's chest. The Anhilite's look of surprise mirrored Mike's own as it glanced down at the dagger sticking out of his heart before crumpling to the ground in a heap.

Mike stared down at the man he had just killed and felt a sudden wave of nausea. [D*** it, I don't have time to feel sick! He would have killed me. It was self defense.] Suppressing the vomit that was trying to force its way out of his throat, he reached down to pull the dagger out of the corpse.

Suddenly, Mike felt something wrap around his right ankle and yank him off his feet, causing him to fall face-first to the forest floor. Spitting out a mouthful of leaves, he tried to get up, but was crushed back to the ground by something landing on his back. He felt warm, rancid breath on his neck and face as a raspy female voice sounded in his ear.

"Well, well, well. What a pretty one we have here. And so young too. Smiler is going to like you. He always has fun with the pretty ones, at least until they break." The voice paused, and Mike could hear audible sniffing. The voice continued hungrily, "Mm, so fresh! I can barely stand it. Maybe I'll just have a little taste. Smiler won't mind."

A wave of horror and revulsion passed through Mike. He knew he had to escape. A fate worse than death evidently waited for him if he couldn't. He furiously tried writhe out of the woman's grip while screaming, "Help! Somebody, anybody, HELP!" The words seemed to hang in the air for second before being quashed by the woman's maniacal laughter.

"HAHAHAHA, YES! That's it. Keep it up. I love it when they scream. Let's see what kind of music you can make when I really put it...."

There was a squelching sound not unlike stepping in wet mud as the woman was suddenly cut off. Mike felt the weight lift off his back, and he lifted his head just in time to see a pair of skinny legs in tattered trousers fall in a pile in front of him. A pair of legs without any body attached to them. He turned onto his side, looked up, and was met face to face with a massive, and slightly familiar, saurian maw.