Ravenloft: Dominion - Black Crusade by Ari Marmell

Author:Ari Marmell [Marmell, Ari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-4878-9
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2017-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

Again, Diederic stooped by the unearthed circle, deep within Birne’s orchard. He had feared that simply setting foot within the gate would herald the return of the insect swarm, but so far the only vermin he had seen were a few worms unearthed by the recent downpour, and a colony of ants feasting upon one of said worms that had not survived the rain. Still, he avoided the large peach tree, just to be certain.

From his crouch he stared at the decrepit old home, as though the intensity of his gaze might be enough to bring it to him. But then, his eyes were the problem, weren’t they? Images of Leona as a twisting corpse surrounded by a swarm of hornets, flashed across his vision. He shuddered.

It was a difficult shot at the best of times. Throwing from a crouch, between closely spaced trees and low-hanging branches, it became downright frustrating. With each throw, leaves rustled, tiny branches snapped, and with each sound, Diederic was certain that a cloud of stinging, biting insects would rise up and descend upon him like a Biblical plague.

On what must have been his ninth or tenth try, as the grinding of his teeth threatened to drown out the sounds of the orchard, the stone finally flew true, despite the trailing weight of the hemp lashed around it. It sailed smoothly between the branches to drape itself over the wooden fence.

Diederic tugged, carefully. The stone brushed against the topmost rail and threatened to flip back over, but it held. So long as he was cautious, kept his pull light and even, it should serve. Carefully he reached into the pouch of supplies he had liberated from Marta’s house and tied a flimsy scarf across his mouth and nose.

And now, exasperating as throwing the rope had been, came the difficult part. Taking the rope in both hands, hunching down below the level of the branches, Diederic closed his eyes. Ears straining for any sound of motion, skin twitching in anticipation of an unseen assault, he began to creep forward, the rope his only guide.

Branches tugged at his clothes, roots reached up to tangle his steps, but Diederic persevered. Nicked and battered by the various obstacles, he finally felt the sun upon his head and rose to his full height, but he kept his eyes shut and followed the rope.

He heard the sounds of buzzing, felt the first bite on his forehead. Fire rushed across his face from the painful venom, and Diederic risked a quickened pace. He felt impact after impact upon his hauberk, his sleeves, his trousers, and the cloth that protected most of his face. What little skin remained exposed suffered bite upon bite, sting after sting. Tears of pain welled up between his tightly closed eyelids, and Diederic began to wonder if he would make it as far as the fence. The pressure on his skin, as insect after insect struck his clothes and his exposed flesh, was as constant as the storm’s rain; not a sound in the world could have penetrated the incessant hum of a thousand tiny wings.

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