The Night the Dead Wrought Carnage

I spent the remainder of the afternoon tending to lesser errands.

By the time I left Stratweiler, dusk had already begun to settle.

Not wishing to delay further, I fetched Venus and led her through the narrow streets, past the dim tallow lamps that flickered along the paved road toward the city gate.

Once outside, I mounted and gave her a gentle spur.

“Come, girl. We should be home ere dark.”

We had ridden no more than half the way when the last of the evening light vanished, and night seemed to fall with an abruptness that struck me as unnatural.

A faint unease stirred within me as I urged Venus onward.

We reached the small stretch of forest that flanked the road.

The trees closed in on either side, forming a tunnel of darkness that swallowed what little light remained.

“It is well, Venus,” I murmured, patting her neck. “We are nearly home.”

A low mist clung to the ground, creeping about the mare’s legs and drifting among the trunks.

There was no marsh nearby, none I had ever known of, yet the air grew damp and heavy as though we had strayed into one.

Every rustle in the underbrush, every cracked twig, every shifting shadow struck my nerves.

Worse still was the silence that followed each sound.

“To hell with this,” I muttered. “I’ll not tarry longer in this cursed place.”

I pressed my heels against Venus, and she quickened gratefully, her trot carrying us down the remainder of the forest path.

Relief washed over me as the trees thinned and the open land appeared.

In the distance, a warm glow marked the outline of our estate.

Yet something in the light was wrong.

It flickered, wildly.

I slowed, sitting upright in the saddle as I peered through the haze.

Then I understood.

The stables were ablaze.

I pulled Venus to a halt, staring as flames roared through the wooden beams, devouring the rafters and casting frantic shadows across the yard.

A terrible neighing rose into the night, shrill, panicked and agonized.

“The horses!” I cried, the words tearing from my throat.

Without further thought, I spurred Venus and drove her forward at a gallop.

But as we drew nearer, the sounds changed: a wet, sickening slurping, broken by guttural groans.

Shapes moved within the firelight, though I could not yet distinguish them.

Wolves? No, wolves fled from fire.

Bandits? Yet what sense was there in butchering livestock?

I reached the yard and pulled Venus to a halt.

What lay before me defied all reason.

The stables were a ruin of flame and blood.

Entrails hung from splintered beams; troughs overflowed with gore; limbs, horse and human alike, lay strewn across the straw-covered floor.

Worst of all was Brenner, our proud black stallion, or what remained of him.

His hindquarters had been torn apart, his chest cavity ripped open, half his head missing.

Three figures crouched over the corpse, feeding like beasts.

As the flames cast their light across them, their forms became clear.

Two men. One child.

Their clothing was plain, one with a feathered hat, one with a leather cap, yet there was nothing human in them any longer.

Their skin had taken the colour of old corpses.

Their eyes were white, devoid of pupils. 

Their mouths dripped with blood.

Great wounds, torn to the bone, gaped across their limbs and torsos, wounds no living being could endure.

The smallest, the child, lacked a lower jaw; a strip of tongue hung uselessly from the ruin of his throat.

Straw-coloured hair clung to his blood-smeared skull.

Only then did I know him.

“…Bertram,” I whispered.

Venus reared violently, panic seizing her.

The creatures turned at once, their blank eyes fixing upon me.

Wiedergänger.¹

The word rose inside my head unbidden from old wives' tales.

At once, adrenaline surged through me.

I drew my rapier just as Venus reared again and threw me.

I struck the hard ground, pain lancing through my side.

By the time I gained my feet, the mare had fled into the forest, hooves pounding into the night.

The creatures were nearly upon me.

I saw their faces clearly now: slack jaws, torn flesh, dead eyes.

“Christ, give me strength!” I shouted, driving my blade into the nearest one’s chest.

The thrust barely slowed it.

It shambled forward as though the steel were nothing more than a straw.

I struck again.

And again.

The creature did not falter.

I dodged their clumsy swipes, but each thrust of mine met the same result: no pain, no hindrance.

“Damnation!”

A sudden scream tore through the night.

I turned toward the house.

The front door hung broken, split from its hinges.

Another scream, higher, desperate.

“Anna!”

She was still alive.

I ran toward the house, leaving the creatures behind which followed me slow and clumsily.

Inside, furniture lay in splinters; blood streaked the walls; low groans echoed through the rooms.

A thick trail of blood led up the stairs.

I climbed quickly.

At the landing, two of the creatures clawed at the door to my room, their nails tearing deep grooves into the wood.

Both turned at once.

The nearer one, a man whose jaw hung crooked from torn sinews, lurched toward me with a wet snarl.

I stumbled back; my heel slipped over the edge of the stairs.

In blind panic I raised my rapier, no aim, only instinct.

The creature threw itself upon the blade.

A muffled crack sounded as the steel pierced its eye socket and lodged deep within the skull.

The force nearly tore the weapon from my hand.

It collapsed at my feet, dead at once.

I stared, scarcely breathing, as the second creature lunged.

Still off balance, I dropped to one knee and thrust upward.

The point met the side of its skull and drove cleanly through.

It fell without a sound.

For a moment all was still.

“…the head,” I whispered, scarcely knowing I had spoken.

A faint whimper sounded from within the room.

“Anna? Anna, are you there?”

I pushed the door open.

Anna lay behind the bed, trembling, covered in blood.

A deep wound marred her ankle, torn flesh exposed.

“Anna!”

She looked up at me, eyes wide with terror.

“What… what were those things? What is happening?” she whispered.

“I do not know, and it matters not. You are safe now.”

I tore a bedsheet and bound the wound as best I could, then helped her onto the bed.

As I rose, a movement outside the window caught my eye.

More Wiedergänger, dozen, emerged from the forest, stumbling toward the house.

I dragged a heavy chest before the door and shoved it into place.

Exhausted, I sank to the floor, but before long, the dead that had followed me gathered outside.

Their fists thudded against the door, the wood splintering beneath each blow.

“That will not hold long,” I muttered.

I turned toward Anna, and froze.

Her skin had gone pale, her veins darkening into swollen purple lines.

“Dear God…” I whispered, hurrying to her side.

“I… f-feel c-cold…” she murmured.

Behind me, the dead kept hammering at the door.

I barely heard it.

“Stay with me,” I pleaded, taking Anna's hand. “Do not fall sleep!”

But she didn’t hear me.

Her eyes dulled.

Her fingers slackened.

A final breath escaped her.

She was gone.

Tears blurred my sight as I closed her eyes, those shy, golden-brown eyes that had always softened her timid manner.

The door burst open and the creatures surged inside.

“Damnation!” 

I stumbled back until my shoulders struck the cold frame of the window.

The dead pressed in, jaws slack, arms outstretched in grotesque hunger.

I clasped my hands.

“Our Father, who art in heaven...”

They advanced.

“...lead us not into temptation… but deliver us from evil!”

But no divine aid came.

Instead the nearest creature lunged.

I seized a fallen chair and struck it hard, driving it back, though its weight nearly bowled me over.

Another reached for my throat.

I swung the chair once more, this time behind me.

The wooden frame smashed into the window, shattering the glass with a sharp crack.

I climbed onto the sill at once, gripping the jagged frame with trembling fingers.

The copper gutter creaked under my weight as I hauled myself through the broken opening, my boots slipping upon loose tiles.

Panting, shaking, I crawled toward the chimney, tiles sliding free beneath my hands.

At last I reached the highest point and leaned against the brickwork.

Only then did I draw breath.

I was safe.

For now.

Glossary

1) Wiedergänger (Eng.: revenant) meaning 're-walker', or 'one who walks again', were a type of undead/revenants that haunted the living in German folklore.