In the pale glow, Annev watched the twisted things advance. Half-naked and ugly, they looked like humans bereft of their humanity. Their faces were tortured, angry and pained. The male screamed – a harsh, grinding sound – and clawed its nails across its hair-covered chest, drawing blood.
An answering metallic screech came from somewhere behind Annev. He spun to see a third feurog emerge from the shadows. Its skull was almost entirely composed of black iron, its eyes little more than white slits behind a mask of metal and a mouthful of interlocking metal spikes. The monster gnashed its metal jaws together and howled, dribbling blood and rust.
‘I hope you don’t have any qualms about killin’ these bastards,’ Crag said, placing his back against Annev’s.
‘Are they even human?’ Annev asked, readying the sword in his hand. The metal-faced feurog stalked towards him like a feral animal on the scent of fresh blood. It stopped a dozen feet away, raked its needle-sharp nails against its iron skull, and roared.
‘Why don’t you ask them?’ Crag shouted above the din. The other two feurog were pacing in front of the pedlar, scraping their metal-lined limbs together in a chorused cacophony. The bearded male with the bladed forearms screamed then lunged, his left hand swinging out to grab Crag’s staff just as his bladed right arm swept towards the pedlar’s face.
Metal-face charged. Annev raised his sword and dropped into the stance Edra and Sodar had taught him: one foot in front of the other, his body turned sideways, his sword arm extended. The beast sprinted for him, arms pumping, hands clawing at the air. Annev swung and the beast grasped his blade. Sharp red lines appeared on its naked flesh before the snarling feurog snagged the chipped edge in its grip and yanked, trying to pull the sword from Annev’s hand. Annev slammed his foot into its chest and as the creature fell back, Annev ripped his blade free, tearing a chunk of flesh from the feurog’s hand.
Annev glanced back and saw that the pedlar was hard pressed by the other two feurog, which darted for him in turn, striking at Crag’s face, throat, belly and arms. The fat pedlar was surprisingly fast with his staff, whereas the feurog were slow and uncoordinated, but Annev could already see Crag tiring.
‘If you don’t mind finishin’ yours off quickly, I’d appreciate the help.’ Crag snapped the pole twice across the female’s face, once on each side, but she shook it off and advanced again. ‘Damn near impossible to kill these things with a blunt weapon!’ he hollered.
Annev’s feurog flexed its bleeding hand and stalked towards him, eyeing the rusty sword. Annev planted his feet, anticipating a lunge, and when it came for him, his sword arm slashed out and he sprang forward to meet it. It would be a killing blow – Annev knew it – yet he did not hesitate as he had done with the witch.
The tip pierced the monster’s left eye, driven deep into the socket by the monster’s own headlong rush. The thing shrieked but continued to fall forward until Annev’s sword scraped against the metal back of its skull. It fell to its knees, and Annev jerked six inches of steel from the dying thing’s eye socket.
Annev spun to see the pedlar deliver a crashing blow to the bearded feurog’s head. As wood connected with cheekbone and temple, the monster’s face collapsed under the sheer force of the strike and it dropped wordlessly to the ground.
Annev stepped forward as the remaining feurog swayed from foot to foot, her expression a mixture of rage and fear as she looked to Crag and the dead feurog in front of him, at Annev and the dying feurog behind him. She hissed, brandishing her stone arm. Annev noticed a gash on Crag’s right forearm. Blood flowed steadily from the wound, dripping onto his hand. Annev came at the female from the side, advancing slowly, his sword at the ready. The feurog turned to face him, retreating as she did so.
‘Be ready!’ Annev shouted just as the feurog pushed off her back foot and launched herself at him, flying high into the air. Annev retreated as she spread her arms wide to deliver a crushing blow.
He saw his opening – the spot where her heart would be – and raised his sword to strike. At the same time he saw a gleam of gold reflect from the female’s armoured torso. She fell hard and fast, crashing into him, and Annev felt a sharp crack as he and the creature tumbled over each other in the dirt. He jumped back to his feet, cutlass swinging, and saw he held an empty hilt, the old blade having snapped off in the feurog’s shoulder.
Odar’s brazen balls.
The feurog wrenched at the steel piercing her shoulder then threw it back at Annev. He ducked beneath the spinning blade and she backhanded him across the face, knocking him to the ground and then straddling him, pinning his arms to his sides. With a roar, she raised her heavy left arm – an ugly, black-and-white-speckled thing that glittered in the lantern light – and brought it crashing down at Annev’s head.
But the blow never landed. Instead Crag’s staff shot through the air, quick as an arrow, and crunched into the feurog’s windpipe. She toppled off Annev, who rolled back to his feet.
Crag stood over the prone female with the butt of his staff pressed down on her forehead. She writhed in the dirt, her hands clutching at her throat, clawing for air.
‘She’s choking,’ Annev said, panting.
‘Aye, that she is.’ Crag hefted his staff. ‘Best to finish her off cleanly.’ He raised the metal-capped staff high overhead.
‘No!’ Annev protested. ‘I mean … can’t we help her?’
‘She tried to kill us. Might even be one of those that tortured me mule.’ Crag kicked the feurog’s left hand away from her throat and it fell to the ground, heavy as a stone. He stepped on it. ‘You see that?’ he said, grinding his boot into her hand. ‘Her skin’s like granite. She would’ve smashed your skull to bits.’
Annev frowned. The feurog struggled to pull her arm back from Crag’s boot, but she was growing weaker. Her lips turned blue and Annev could see panic in her eyes.
Her terribly human eyes.
‘Give me your pipe!’ Annev snapped, kneeling beside the feurog.
‘What do you want with—’
‘Your pipe! Now. Before it’s too late!’
Crag shook his head even as he pulled the pipe from his pocket. ‘I know you think you’re helpin’, boy, but you’re not. This one’s dead. It’d be kinder to finish her off.’