Excerpt Thursday: SOUL OF SERPENTS
It’s Excerpt Thursday! This week’s excerpt is from SOUL OF SERPENTS. When I wrote this in 2011, I though it would be the last novel I would write. Then I would self-publish my DEMONSOULED trilogy, and I would never think about fiction again.
That sure didn’t work out! 🙂
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Torches blazed atop the stone wall. Militiamen fought from the ramparts, wielding crossbows and spears. A dozen ladders rested against the wall, and Mazael saw dark-armored shapes scrambling up the rungs, spears and axes in hand.
The invaders.
Mazael took a look at them, a good look, and blinked in disbelief.
The invaders were not bandits. Nor were they were Mazael’s vassals, or Lord Richard’s men.
They weren’t even human.
Mazael had never seen creatures like them before.
They looked almost like men, albeit men with leathery gray skin and long, pointed ears. Their eyes were colorless, milky white, yet they seemed to have no difficulty seeing. The creatures wore greasy leathers, ragged furs, and black chain mail. Dozens of them lay dead below the gate, covered in black blood. Yet the creatures showed neither fear nor pain, and flung themselves at the defenders with abandon, roaring and howling like beasts.
Lucan swore, very softly.
“What are they?” said Mazael.
“I had never thought to see them,” said Lucan.
“Damn it, what are they?” said Mazael.
Lucan looked at Mazael, his eyes reflecting the firelight. “Malrags.”
“Malrags?” said Mazael. “Malrags are a legend, like…”
“Like the Elderborn?” said Lucan. “Like the San-keth?”
Mazael growled. “Legend or not, they are still flesh and blood. Sir Hagen! Sir Aulus! Sound the charge…”
The air crackled, and a bolt of green lighting screamed out of the cloudless sky, so bright that it filled the plains with ghostly light. It struck the arch over the gates with terrific force, blasting stone and wood to glowing shreds. Smoking debris rained over the Malrags and the town militia alike, knocking them to the ground, and the horses whinnied and stamped in terror.
For a moment the battlefield remained motionless, the echoes from the lightning blast rumbling into silence.
Then the Malrags raced for the ruined gate.
“The charge!” said Mazael, raising his lance. “Now!”
Sir Aulus lifted a horn to his lips and loosed a long blast, a thunder of a different sort rolling over the plain. Mazael put his boots to Challenger’s sides, and the big horse surged forward with an excited snort. Behind him the knights’ and armsmen’s horses exploded into motion, the earth rumbling beneath steel-shod hooves.
The Malrags near the gate turned, forming a line of spears, but it was too late. Mazael caught a brief glimpse of a Malrag at the forefront of the mob. The hands gripping the spear had six fingers, black veins throbbing and pulsing beneath the leathery gray skin. Then the Malrag disappeared beneath Challenger’s hooves in a flash of black blood, even as Mazael drove his war lance through the face of another Malrag. He ripped the lance free and struck again as Challenger thundered forward, the horsemen crashing into the Malrags. Horses screamed and stamped, men shouted, and the Malrags bellowed their battle cries.
Mazael stabbed his lance into a Malrag, the heavy blade crunching past armor and sinking into the creature’s neck. Yet the Malrag showed no fear, no sign of pain, even pulling itself up the shaft to claw at Mazael’s arm. Mazael plunged the lance into the creature’s chest again, and the Malrag toppled, wrenching the weapon from Mazael’s hand.
Challenger galloped through the Malrag mob, breaking free on the other side. Mazael wheeled the big horse around, drawing Lion from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. The ancient steel blade glimmered in the torchlight, seeming to flash and flicker.
-JM