Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

And strong as he was, MacNeil knew there were limits to his strength, and he was fast approaching them.
    He slowly straightened up and looked about him. There were bodies everywhere, and the barricades had been all but torn apart. The dead and the wounded lay where they had fallen on the blood-soaked ground. No one had the time or the strength to drag them away. Many of the bodies showed signs of feasting. The demons were always hungry. The long night was bitterly cold, and MacNeil pulled his tattered cloak about him. His hands shook, not entirely from the cold. High above, the Blue Moon shone down from a starless night, and the Darkwood held dominion over all the Forest. Demons swarmed everywhere in the darkness surrounding the small besieged town of King’s Deep. The town had been cut off from the outside world for so long its defenders were no longer sure how long it had been. The nightmare seemed to go on forever, as though it had always been happening and always would. No sun rose or set in the Darkwood; there was only the endless night and the creatures that moved in it.
    MacNeil clutched his sword tightly, but it had lost all power to comfort him. He’d always thought of himself as brave, but that was before the Darkwood. In the past he’d fought footpads and smugglers and Hillsdown spies, and never given a damn for the danger. He was strong and fast and good with a sword, and he’d never once backed down from a fight. Unlike many of his fellow guards, he’d always looked forward to going into action; he loved the thrill in his blood and the chance for glory. But that was before he came to defend King’s Deep and found himself facing a ravenous horde of inhuman creatures that came swarming out of the dark in never ending numbers. He’d taken his place at the barricade and fought and killed and slaughtered until his sword arm ached and his armor was soaked with demon blood, and none of it mattered a damn. One by one the defenders fell, and a growing desperation gnawed at MacNeil as the siege continued with no end in sight.
    He leaned against the barricade and closed his eyes for a moment. His whole body trembled with fatigue, and sweat and blood trickled down his face. He couldn’t face another attack. He just couldn’t. He opened his eyes and glanced back at the town behind him. Here and there in King’s Deep a few lights flickered defiantly against the darkness, but the light didn’t carry far. There weren’t many people left to look at them anyway. MacNeil looked down at his sword. Demon blood dripped steadily from the long blade, but he couldn’t find the energy to clean it.
    He’d always thought he was brave. For almost two years he’d used his sword to enforce the king’s law, hunting down criminals and keeping the roads safe. He was proud of his strength and his courage, and neither of them had ever let him down. Until he came to King’s Deep, and the demons taught him fear. He killed them over and over again, and still they came swarming out of the darkness, driven by hatred and a never-ending hunger. MacNeil had given everything he had to stop them, and it hadn’t been enough. He looked out into the endless night and waited for the demons to come again. He thought he would die soon, and he doubted his death would be easy.
    The demons had taught him fear. It felt like panic and despair.
    He looked at the broken barricade before him and wondered why he still stayed at his post. King’s Deep was nothing to him, just another small country town in the back of beyond, of no importance to anyone but its inhabitants. The town was bound to fall sooner or later, and if he stayed he’d fall with it. If he stayed. He turned the thought over in his mind, studying it warily. He didn’t have to stay. The guard captain who’d given him his orders was dead and gone, along with most of the other guards. He could just slip quietly away from his post and run, trusting to the dark to hide him. No one would ever know. Except him.
    MacNeil shook his head to clear it. In all the minstrels’ songs the heroes never once considered turning and running. They just stood their ground and died nobly It was different here in the darkness, facing an enemy without end… . He looked up sharply as he sensed rather than heard a stirring in the night. There was a clatter of running feet around him as others sensed the disturbance and moved forward to block some of the larger gaps in the barricades. MacNeil gripped