Page 205 of Eldritch
Turning back around showed chunks of vegetation and soil wrenched free, as something massive pushed upward from underground. Soil and forest debris spilled into a yawning chasm in the ground. From it, emerged a gaping maw, wide enough to swallow the church whole, with rows of sharp teeth, as if the ground itself were the body of the monster. Long, clawed fingers broke the surface, and a figure dragged itself upward, until at the edge of the gaping hole crouched a strange, muscular creature, its form reminding me of a hairless ape with longer arms.
“What is that?” Aleysia whispered, her voice cracking.
“Vyrmish.” The word trembled out of me.
Raivox bellowed another roar. A stream of silver spewed out of him, but failed to strike the creature, when it darted quickly onto the snowy ground, where the color of its skin shifted from a mottled brown that’d blended with the dirt to a grayish white, hardly discernible in the snow.
“Oh, god,” I whispered, as two more emerged from below and crouched at the edge of the hole, their faces tipped back as if they were sniffing.
Torrents of metallic silver sprayed over the terrain in erratic bursts from Raivox’s beak, the arc too close to the church. We ducked, and Aleysia let out a horrified scream. The blast tore through the air above us, and we ran to dodge the bits of metal clinking against the stones of the gallery.
Raivox flew higher.
The pounding of my heart rose to my throat.
Then, as if the world braced itself, stillness settled over the landscape.
But only for a moment before the ground shook.
Dirt and vegetation exploded into the air as dozens of creatures burst through the hole in a frenzy, blindly climbing over each other. A swarm of muscled beasts, whose collective growls raised the hair on the back of my neck.
My body locked into a state of paralyzing shock, and I couldn’t move. Watching them scramble on all fours toward the church sent a cold surge of panic through my blood.
Raivox breathed another blast of silver that struck a few and froze them in place like metallic statues, but there were far too many charging toward us at once, snarling and snapping their teeth.
“He can’t see them,” Zevander said beside me, and I glanced upward toward the Corvugon. “From above, he can’t see them apart from the dirt.” He threw out his arm, urging me behind him. “Get back! They’re scaling the wall!”
Claws met stone, a terrifying sound of desperation and hunger. Scratching and climbing toward us. To consume us, as the little girl had warned earlier, and all I could summon to mind was her ravaged back.
“What do we do!” I cried out.
Zevander yanked his sword from the scabbard, shoving me back a step, as two horns peeked over the crumbling stones. An oversized maw of razor-sharp teeth snapped at the air, its face absent of eyes or a nose.
At either side of its head protruded two skinny appendages that moved like feelers.
Zevander struck out, jabbing the beast’s flesh just outside of its gaping mouth, the leathery texture of its skin making the blade stick just enough that Zevander kicked the creature away on a growl. The creature let out a screech as it slid backward with the force of his boot. When it pounced onto the floor of the gallery, its height measured two meters, or more. Clawed hands and feet scraped over the stones where it prowled, its feelers reaching out for the air.
“Maevyth!” Aleysia screamed from behind, as two more leapt onto the gallery from the opposite end.
Gathering her behind me, we backed ourselves toward the staircase, where Corwin had run moments before.
Zevander threw a blast of black flame toward the first, and the beast let out a wailing sound as it shriveled and shrank into a hardened and deformed black mass.
A wave of relief washed over me—they could be killed. Something was capable of destroying them.
The other two at our backs charged toward us, and Zevander shot a blast of flame in their direction. Three more leapt over the edge of the wall, their feet light against the stones as they landed, and they stalked toward us, snapping their jaws. Four more poured over the edge after them, the gallery floor heaving and groaning beneath us.
“We have to get to the first level. This thing is going to crumble!” Zevander grabbed my arm and yanked me after him, his sword leading the way toward the stone staircase. He paused, allowing Aleysia and Father to go first, and sent a blast of flamesover the creatures that bounded after us. From the small pyre of burning flesh, one of the creatures slithered forward on its arms, its lower half-singed away.
Zevander slammed his sword into its head, and the creature trembled and seized, before going still.
A half-dozen more leapt over the edge onto the creaking gallery.
“Go! Now!” Zevander shoved at my back, and the two of us darted down the stairwell toward the first floor.
When we reached the bottom, an ear-splitting crash shook the ground, and we ducked low. Father and Aleysia crouched at the lower entrance of the stairwell, just below us, and I peered over them to see a plume of dust and splintering shards of wood flying about, as the balcony crashed onto the pews. Aside from the shivers of dust raining down on us, the stairwell, set apart from the gallery, remained intact, protecting us from the destruction.
Blood pounded in my ears over a high-pitched ringing, and I squinted, shaking my head. All four of us coughed, the surrounding dust thick in the air.
