Chapter Eleven: Shattered, Scattered

Chapter Eleven: Shattered, Scattered

Tom assumed the attack was coming from the south, that being the direction of the screams. He kicked his spear up into his hand, taking a brief moment to shuck his pack on too. He left his bedroll and blanket where they lay.

He began to methodically forge his way through the grey tableau towards the sounds of panicked fighting. Limbs flailed at him. People stumbled past. Faces resolved from greyness and sank back into it. Confused queries ricocheted around. Tom could barely make any sense of it all.

Something felt wrong. He could hear people crying out in pain and fear, grunting with exertion, fighting for their lives. There was nothing else though. No growls. No hissing. No thumps. Nothing.

Bronze light flashed at the far end of the camp, spears flashing into the dark.

Light! Elensfield yelled. Tom could barely hear him. Clairvine, we need light!

Tom forced his way closer to the action. More bronze spears flashed into the woods, throwing the scene into momentary relief. The colour and briefness of the light, and the shifting mass of people in front of him, made it impossible to see anything.

Suddenly, the scene burst into clarity. White petals drifted all around them, glowing harshly against his night-adjusted eyes. For a brief moment, he marvelled at the beauty.

Then someone screamed again.

Toms attention was ripped back to the frontline. He was less than fifty feet away. As his eyes adjusted to the new light he struggled to make sense of the chaotic scene.

The trees ahead of him were shifting. Shimmering black. Tom couldnt figure out why his gut was screaming WRONG at him until he realised the trees shouldnt be black, still. Not under the piercing white light of Clairvines petals.

Things dropped from the trees as Tom watched. Things with too many legs. They carpeted the forest floor, flowing up and around tree trunks, through branches and boughs; skittering, jittery movement becoming a coherent, mesmerising current with the sheer volume of their bodies.

Spiders. Lots of them. Lots of BIG fucking spiders, Tom thought. He had never particularly liked spiders, but he wouldnt have called himself an arachnophobe. Big, BIG fucking spiders, was still the only lucid thought he could form. Thousands upon thousands of them, each as large as a housecat, triggered some primal, instinctual response in him. With a sudden flash of insight he realised that not all of the screams had been screams of pain.

Tom had frozen in place. The spiders were rushing ever closer, dropping ever closer. As he watched, a woman pinned one with her spear, and another swept up the shaft and busied itself with her arms. Within a breath another had fallen from above, landing on her shoulders, and more had reached her legs. It was hopeless. Her death scream jolted Tom from his horror.Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only

Tom kept steady even as others around him backpedalled. There was little any of them could do, but they would all die, buried in spiders, if they allowed the unit to bunch up and become trapped. They needed to create space, to stem the tide for a brief while until the rest of the camp was roused and ready.

The people in front of him were fighting, desperately lashing out all around them. Tom stepped forward and thrust his spear, skewering a spider on the end of it. He retreated several steps, methodically, as more streamed around the people ahead.

He kept thrusting, again and again, and quickly realised the futility of it. The precision needed to ensure he killed a spider, while retreating over rough ground and with impaired visibility, made it a hopeless task. His one saving grace was that even a glancing hit was enough to disable them.

More people around him began to shore up, holding the line in a slow retreat. Bronze spears flashed out from Elensfield, over and over, from where he was positioned down the line. His skill-made spears were lances of energy, intangible and deadly. Each one thrust deep into the boiling mass of arachnids, killing dozens and breaking their flow. Tom saw him provide enough breathing room for several people to retreat to their more orderly line.

Not everyone was so lucky, though. A returning Idealist student threw a few completely useless plumes of smoke into the spiders before being dragged under.

Gracefield! Elensfield shouted.

A blast of wind gusted from behind their line, ruffling Toms hair as it passed overhead. Tom noted several spiders tumbling backwards into the mass in front them.

Shit, the trees! he thought. Were fucked if they drop on us!

People tripped and fell. Tom yanked them to their feet with main strength where he could, and kept running when he couldnt. Someone stumbled in front of him and he reached out a steadying hand, stopping them from falling. A haggard face turned to him. Clairvine.

Cutter..? she said. Good. Lets go, man.

Tom didnt need telling twice. Together they moved through the woods as fast as they possibly could. Eventually, their night eyes returned and they moved faster. Several others had joined them, or perhaps Clairvine and Tom had followed them. Their flight was a confused jumble of impressions.

They ran and ran, and when they couldnt run any more, they stumbled onwards. They refused to rest. The periodic screams that sang through the night reminded them of the cost of stopping.

For hours they moved. And hours more. Eventually Tom realised he could see more than a few metres in front of him. He looked up, and saw pale yellow light dappling the upper canopy. Dawn. Theyd fled through the night.

The others began to notice too. As the light came up they began to slow. By the time the sun was fully up, they came across a small clearing around a natural spring. Clairvine ordered a halt. They slurped at the water like animals and gratefully collapsed to the ground.

There were ten of them, including Clairvine and Tom. Gad was with them as well. Tom couldnt muster up any surprise through his exhaustion.

Of course hes survived, Tom thought. The boys a cockroach.

He immediately chastised himself for the sentiment. It was unworthy of him, exactly the kind of attitude he was beginning to try and root from himself, not to mention the horrific experience they had all just endured.

All of them were in varying condition. About half of them had half their gear, including Tom. The other half had nothing, and some of them werent even fully clothed. Everyone had a weapon, at least. They one and all looked to have just fought off a deadly attack and then run through a forest in the dark.

Aside from Clairvine and Gad, there were no other Idealists. Five of the remaining people were soldiers, and the other three were students. They had no non-student volunteers.

Eventually the group began to stir. Tom dug into his pack and passed out spare clothes to those who were lacking them. One of the soldiers who had retained their pack did the same. While they used rags to return themselves to a semblance of cleanliness, another soldier set up a small campfire and began boiling water in a pot. None of them spoke.

Bowls of boar jerky stew were passed around. They ate until, one by one, empty bowls rested in laps and empty stares followed suit.

Fuck, said Clairvine, breaking the reverie. A few of the group jolted in fright.

Fuuucking fuck, she elaborated. First village-killer swarm ive ever seen, dunno bout you guys. She gave the weakest laugh Tom had ever heard, trailing off into silence as everyone stared at her.

What What do we do now..? A young-looking student said hesitantly.

Probably her first Reaping from the looks of her, thought Tom. Shitty fucking luck for her.

Well Clairvine said, chewing her jaw and narrowing her eyes. Id say were absolutely fucked, if I had to take a wild stab in the dark.

This time she laughed a true belly laugh. The noise echoed about the small clearing, completely incongruous with the situation. The group stared at her like shed grown an extra head.

She eventually subsided, taking a deep breath and wiping a tear from the corner of one eye.

Ahhhhhh, yup. Definitely, absolutely, utterly fucked, Id say.