Chapter 9

Signs of Loss

Beckmin and the reminants of his command ran through the woods. His command had failed and he was responsible. He had split his forces when he knew better than to present a weakened target to an enemy.

“Move faster, we need to regroup and the camp site!” Beckmin yelled as they speed through the woods. Beckmin was winded running at this speed with all the supplies they were carrying was going to slow them down oncw they reached the camp.

After a half hour Beckmin allowed a quick break. He sat on the ground and closed his eyes thinking about what his new plan would be. Losing so many men would not bode well for him when he reached base. There would be questions, he might even be formally reviewed.

“Dammit!” Beckmin yelled.

“Yes Sir?” One of the soldiers asked.

“Nothing,” Beckmin had not meant to speak aloud. “Lets get moving.”

As the men got to their feet they heard something crashing through the underbrush. It was one of the animals from the camp.

“It must have followed us.” One of the soldiers said.

“Grab it! We will be able to haul all our packs with it.” Beckmin called to his men.

The men slowly approached the horse. One of the men grabbed the bridle.

“That was easy.” He said. He turn to examine the animal when it bite his chin and jaw. The other men were horrified ans the man tried to cream as the horse tore away the fleshy part of his face. Hot blood gushed as the animal shook free of the dead man's grasp.

“Run!” Beckmin yelled. “Lets move!” He grabbed his remaining two men and pushed them into motion.

One of the men lost his footing. They dragged him for several paces until he got his feet under him. The undead horse monster slowly closed in on the fleeing men. At the last moment Beckmin pushed the men to one side and dove after them. Sliding in the dirt as the horse missed them and turn to try again. As soon as he could Beckmin got to his feet. He quickly pulled a knife and cut the straps to his pack. The pack fell to the ground heavily. They started moving again as soon as they could, Beckmin stepped over and cut the packs from the remaining two men.

Again the horses slow gait crept slowly up to the men. Then men were slowing as they tired. The horse just continued to walk after them steadily gaining ground. When the horse was just about to catch them Beckmin rolled to one side. The other two men kept moving trying to outrun the horse. One of the men stumbled, the horse tripped over the man but camp up with the mans leg in his mouth.

Beckmin was panting as he approached the horse. The man was screaming as the horses teeth slowly bit into his leg. The other man had continued running. Beckmin took out his battle sword and knife. He approached the horse and slowly maneuvered into position. As the Horse did more and more damage to the mans leg the screams became more hoarse cries and them stopped altogether. Beckmin waited for an oppening and when the horse bent to get a better grip on the bleeding leg Beckmin rushed in and cut the tendons on the hind legs. The horse dropped to his haunches. The horse struggled to regain its feet but Beckmin kept up his attack striking to maim the beast rather than kill. It did not take long before the horse was disabled completely. Beckmin checked on the wounded soldier. He was dead.

Beckmin cleaned his weapons and continued his flight towards the camp site. He looked for signs of the soldier that had fled. He hoped he would find the man so that he could punish the fool for fleeing, but he also hoped the fool had lost his way and lead anything else trailing him away from the camp site Beckmin ttevalled towards.

After another hour of running Beckmin saw the flames of the camp site. His exhausted legs felt numb but with the goal so close he picked up his speed. When he entered the camp he saw the remaining men assiting the soldier that had fled the battle with the undead horse.

“You coward!” Beckmin bellowed. “You fled when you should have fought. We might have saved a good man except for your cowardice!”

The men looked at him, shocked. He must have looked horrible, covered in blood and sweat. Arms covered in gore from examining the men at the battle site. He was panting from the run to the camp site. He looked at his force, he had a single fist remaining, what a pathetic site.

“Pack for a long run, leave anything that is not critical to survival, we leave in an hour. Bring me some food.” Beckmin stormed off to clean up and think about his next move.

The men packed quickly. They left all the tents and most of the food. Beckmin got them to bring him a new pack. After an hour had passed they gathered near the cook fires. Beckmin looked at each man. Meeting his gaze.

“We are going to leave soon.“ Beckmin begain, “You need to understand what we will be doing. We are fleeing, running so that we can report what has happened to the main force. We must reach that base. In order to do that we will be moving fast and resting only when absolutely necessary.”

“In order for this to work I need to rely on all of you to do exaclty what I tell you to do. Move when I say move, fight when I say fight.” Beckmin stared at the man who had fled into the woods to leave him to fight the dead horse on his own. “So you understand what I am asking of you?”

“Yes, sir!” they answered in unison.

“Good. Because one act of cowardice can kill us all. And I plan to live to see the base.” Beckmin turned away from the man and started to walk away. He spun back an through his long hunting knife. The knife buried itself in the man's chest just below the throat. The man clutched at the knife and fell backwards squirming in the dirt.

“That is what is going to happen to the any man to run from a fight. Do I make myself clear?” Beckmin asked the remaining nine.

“Yes Sir!” They answered.

“Lets move out.” Beckmin bent an pulled him knife out of the dying soldier then sped off with his men into the night.

The plan was to travel almost directly towards the base deviating only when they had to. Almost immediately they started to hear sounds of pursuit. They could not see anyone following them but they were confident they could out pace anything that was behind them. The horses and animals were faster than a man but they were hours behind them and the undead monsters they had seen only walked. Speed was the key. Moving fast meant staying alive.

As the men moved in a long line, they slowly covered the miles of forest between them and their destination. Beckmin estimated it would take them six days to return to the base at this pace. He was starting to feel better about their chances when the ground on the left side of the line erupted with motion. Dozens of small creatures came out of the brush and started grabbing at the men as they passed.

The first couple of men brushed by. The third was not as lucky. The creatures managed to trip the man and when he landed they were on him. Before anyone else could get to the man they had scratched out one of his eyes, cut deep gouges into his neck and were traing and the exposed flesh on his arms and legs. The men hacked the creatures to death but the damage had been done. The man was dead.

“Nothing we can do for him, we can still save ourselves and others by reporting to the base.” Beckmin said, getting the men moving again.

Beckmin started to think about what that small battle would cost them. Every time they had to stop it was anther chance for the enemy to catch them from behind.

The men continued to run, moving through the undergrowth. Racing the death that was behind them. When they reached a clearing they took a quick break. One of the men sat with his back to a tree. When they were ready to leave he would not move. They checked on him and found a large dead snake with a coil around the mans neck. They watched as another snake emerged from the bush directly behind the man. The snakes drew the man into the brush and the seven remaining turned and ran. The fear the men felt fueled there speed.

As they moved they kept losing men, one at a time. One was taken by a flock of small birds. They swooped in and swarmed over the man. Another by a pack of wolves. They cut him out of the group like they would a wounded elf. A bear took two of the men at once, smashing them down and crushing bones as the massive beast swatted the men like they were buzzing bees.

There were only three men left. Beckmin was sure they would still make it back to the base the others were starting to panic. When Beckmin called for a break they sat back to back to back watching the woods around them. Beckmin was ashamed for the other two men. They quivered like girls.

“Sir,” One of the men spoke to Beckmin, “there something coming out of the bush.”

“Kill it.” Beckmin answered.

“I don't think I can.” the man replied.

Beckmin looked over to see what he was talking about. There emerging from the wood was a mass of dead things. Animals mostly but there was a farmer here or there. There must have been hundred of them.

Beckmin knew he was dead. He just turned his head back to the woods. The other men got up and screamed as they launched a futile attack on the group as it emerged from the woods. Beckmin heard the men scream as they died. Heard the crack as their bodies were broken. He just waited watching the woods on his side of the learing. It nly took a few moments before the mob reached him and he felt an explision of pain as a claw ripped trough is spine and out of his stomach.
He was surprised that his only regret was failing to deliver the report to the main base. Then everything went black.