Beating (Book 1: Acts of the Hearth)

Chapter 24

The group traverse the forest from a Different Dimension with the Warg named Bell in their party. Traveling gave the three time to air out more of their grief from the events of the weeks before.

     One look at the ground below made it is clear, that the woods and this strange forest of trees with stretching roots did not belong to the same realm. The two areas; the red tint of the leaves from the forest and the strong thick roots that spring from the ground differ in appearances.

     Bell turns back to walk through the forest and back to the woods where her pack and pups are.

     “Hey now! Aren’t you going to see me off?” Travis says to the large Warg. She turns around and sits on the edge of the forest. The beast watches as the three walk farther away. When they are out of clear sight, Bell turns once more to leave as her tail reveals a single hole near the tip of it.

    

In the land known as Adacost…

 

     A single man marched to the driest point in the muddy wasteland. There, the presence of the shadows had somehow warped the mud into a solid brick-like surface. Behind him, he led a charge of over two-hundred men both old and young. All dressed in the slightly bent illuminating armor that the tribe crafted from the first generation.

     Only moments earlier had this man by the name of Louis, Chief from the VeChrome tribe, left the side of his wife and young son. The wife was tactless and encouraged her husband to fight; despite knowing the many of their tribe that died against this threat previously that year.

     A young son was the only one who pulled at his father’s arm and begged him not to go. The VeChrome were known as the greatest warriors among those of the Cauldron. Strong, determined and brave, each generation was said to have grown stronger than the last.

     When a fight was started with a VeChrome, a VeChrome was raised to become the ender of that fight; no matter the expense. If Louis was to fall in battle, the mantle of chief would fall to his young son to pick up the fight where the father failed and so on.

     When the son made the remark for his father not to go; the mother berated him without cease and the father sighed in great disappointment. The boy, steadied his heart and ultimately gave in to the VeChrome ways. Whether he believed them to be proper or not, no longer mattered.

     The battle began in the dried wastelands at the borders of Adacost. Many abled men approached the gray moving shadows with clubs and stone weapons. Weapons of wood and stone were the only things that proved to deter the threat’s advance.

     Shadows started to shoot up from the cracks in the ground, cutting some of the men and quickly skewered others. The lifeless bodies slid down the vertical shadows as the blood of men painted the pale, dry landscape.

     As gray shadows whipped around without a clear target, Louis charged in to take down a larger shadow shaped like a long triangle. Sensing the aggression, they group up toward him as they converge him into a tight sphere.

     Within the blink of an eye, the man is covered with the gray shadows, encasing and enveloping him. The subordinates of his tribe watched as their chief was lifted up above the ground. The warriors all threw their weapons at the branches of the shadows, hoping to break its grip.

     Their weapons managed to hit a few of the branches, but not as many in comparison to the forty-plus vine-like images that kept their grip tightly on the man.

     The gray shadows slammed him to the ground below, causing Louis to let out a loud yell in pain. The vines began pulling the man’s body more into the dried, hardened earth below.

     Hopeless eyes of men widened in horror at the torturous sight before them. They could hardly bear to watch as the shadows pulled their leader’s body more against the stone-like ground.

     On the hard surface, his body did not sink into the earth, amid silenced groans and gasp, only the sounds of cracking and popping rang throughout; clearly and undisturbed.

     Louis let out a long howl of anguish as his body; bones and organs were crushed against the unrelenting pull to the ground by the shadows.

     With one final loud series of snapping noises, the man once known as the current chief of the VeChrome; was no more to this world than an indescribable display of deep red outlinings, speckled with sinew where his body previously laid.

     The young son watched from a great distance away as his father fell to the threat in a most unimaginable way. Overcome with anger, he charged in to the gray shadows.

     As if sensing the son’s rage, the shadowy vines leapt out at the approaching challenger. Ignoring the fleeing men passing him, the boy grabs stones from the dried lands and throws them at the shadows. This attack caused them to change their trajectory, but they continued to persist.

     Closing in on their mark, they wrapped themselves tightly around the young boy’s right arm. The son gasps and quickly began to panic. He recalled what these two-dimensional entities had done only minutes ago to his father’s entire body.

     Without further hesitation, he pulled away from the shadows and managed to escape. The young boy fled from the shadows as the fresh trauma from his mother’s berating came to mind, slowing him down. Each word in memory, seemingly added more weight to his steps.

     With all of the mental weight set in, distracting the boy, causing him to trip over his own feet. The young son fell to the dry ground below, kicking up a small dirt cloud as he skid to the ground.

     He pushed himself up from the ground and was soon torn between a decision. To stay, and hopelessly die to uphold his tribe’s way or to flee and live another day? The shadows did not hesitate as he did. The carnage focused images wrapped themselves around the sons right arm once again and gripped tightly, crushing his bones and muscles indiscriminately.

     The boy wailed and quietly fainted as the shadows ripped his arm off from a few inches above the elbow. Tribesmen run in and throw stone, one of them dashed in to grab the boy as the shadows pursued them.

     Despite the constant attack on the tribe, the shadows had a limited distance in which they could stretch.

     The men made their successful escape back to the encampment to the south. At their return, the remaining survivors of this assault all fell to their knees with their families in the encampment.

     They all prayed. For the gray shadow threat to leave the remainder of the lands they called home. For the spreading threat to yield in some form of mercy. Men and women all prayed aloud; not knowing, caring or naming who or what it was they prayed to.

     But, in a time of unrelenting misfortunes. What else can the living do?