Severed Souls. Terry Goodkind

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      Gerald had heard that in other places, mostly places much farther west and south, farmers who raised crops and kept animals had their homes out where they tended the land. That made it convenient for working, since coming to town was hardly a daily necessity. Most only needed to come to town on market days when they had goods to sell or when they needed supplies. People who lived on their land could watch over the land and they were always there for their work of feeding and caring for their animals, mending fences and barns, or tending their crops.

      But in the Dark Lands such convenience was secondary to safety. In the Dark Lands most people, including farmers, usually crowded together in places like Insley, choosing to live close together for protection. Most folks didn’t live off by themselves for good reason. Also, for good reason, most everyone shut themselves in at night.

      Gerald knew that living close together for protection wasn’t going to do them any good this time. Nor was daylight going to be any salvation. This time, trouble was coming right into town, into their midst, in broad daylight.

      Gerald saw women off to the right behind a small home pause to stare as they hung clothes on a line. They quickly ran off to tell others of the approaching strangers. The sounds of life in town, everything from conversation to hammers and saws in the woodworking shop to chickens roaming everywhere, probably helped mask the sound of the horde coming their way.

      Now that they were close enough, though, people started to take notice. Concerned people peered out from the narrow walkways between buildings, shopkeepers poked their heads out of doorways to look, and women stuck their heads out of windows. All of them wanted to see what the commotion was all about, much like Gerald had done when he had heard them coming.

      When mothers called their names, children turned and ran for home. Chickens roaming the streets, pecking here and there and unconcerned by any of it, suddenly scattered when children ran through their midst.

      As Gerald led the two emperors and their Shun-tuk army down the road and into the shadows of the buildings on each side, people started coming out of doorways and alleyways all over, dumbfounded by the strange sight, unsure what it meant. The vast numbers of the strangers were not yet quite close enough for the people to see and understand the terror of what approached. Even Gerald didn’t understand what was to come, but he knew enough already to be terrified.

      Out of the corner of his eye, off between buildings, he caught sight of the white figures. The Shun-tuk had slipped around to either side to surround the town so that no one could escape. Gerald hoped that some of them had already had the good sense to run before the town was surrounded, but by the numbers of startled people he saw, he didn’t think that many, if any, had done so. After all, running would mean running off into the wilds of the Dark Lands. These people thought they were safer if they stuck together and stayed in the protection of the town.

      Gerald knew that illusion of safety was a mistake.

      A group of younger men, their sleeves rolled up from being at their work, emerged from between the buildings. They were big men, well muscled and young enough not to be easily intimidated. Most had fought in the war and were more accustomed to trouble.

      Now they had gathered into a home guard to protect their town. They all carried weapons of some sort. A couple had clubs that they smacked in their free hand as an open threat. A few held axes or knives while a good number of them had swords.

      Because of the rise behind, none of these men could see the vast numbers amassing behind Gerald just outside Insley.

      One of the bigger men, one of the young men who had been with the D’Haran army in the war with the Old World, gripped a sword in his meaty fist as he stepped out in front of the others. It was a sword he had brought home with him from the war. The young man had used it to save his life in the past.

      “Gravedigger, what is it these people with you want?”

      Lord Arc stepped in front of Gerald before he could say anything. When he came into full view, some of the people in doorways shrank back a little. Some vanished entirely.

      “The people of Insley have failed to welcome me as their new ruler,” Lord Arc said. “They have failed to welcome me on bended knee. That is an intolerable offense.”

      “This is Lord Arc,” Gerald hurriedly put in, hoping the men would realize who they were dealing with.

      The young man nodded and then motioned to those with him. They followed his lead and all went to a knee. “Welcome, Bishop Arc. There, if it pleases you to see us kneel before you, then you have what you came for.”

      “Not yet,” Lord Arc said with a grim smile. “But I shall.”

      The young man swiped his sweaty hair back from his eyes as he returned to his feet, the rest of the men rising with him. “We meant no offense and want no trouble. Now leave us and be on your way. We mean you no harm.” He swept his sword around to point behind. “Go around our peaceful town and be on your way.”

      Watching with wide eyes, townspeople in doorways, those standing along the side of the street with their backs pressed up against shops, and those peering out from behind buildings all started melting back into the shadows, leaving the trouble to their young home guard to handle.

      With a look behind him, Lord Arc met the gaze of the spirit king. “I think it’s time to show them what they face.”

      A small smile seemed to be the spirit king’s only command. With that small smile, the corpses freshly pulled up from their graves, and up until then out of sight among the closely packed, chalky figures, pushed their way out from behind and trundled forward. One of them bumped into Gerald on the way by, knocking him aside.

      The young men looked as shocked as everyone else to see the corpses with glowing red eyes approaching, but they stood their ground and met them with the kind of fury and confidence that only invincible youth and simple ignorance could muster.

      The young man in command who had spoken for the others drove his sword through the chest of the first of the walking dead to reach him, a putrefied corpse that smelled bad enough to gag half the men waiting to stop him. The sword jutted from the back of the dead man. The corpse twisted, yanking the hilt of the sword embedded through his chest from the young man’s grip.

      With surprising speed, the dead man seized the leader by the throat with one hand. With his other hand, he grabbed the young man’s muscular arm and with a mighty twist tore it off at the shoulder.

      Everyone, including Gerald, flinched in disbelief. It was an act of occult strength that no living man could perform.

      Without delay, other men charged forward and drove their swords through the dead man still holding his victim. He soon had half a dozen more blades stuck through his chest to go with the first. None of them slowed him any more than did the first.

      The dead man tossed the screaming young soldier down on the ground at his feet. Even as other men hacked at him with swords and stabbed him with knives, the attacker seized his one-armed victim by the ankle and threw him into the side of a building with such force it cracked the clapboard walls. The man fell unconscious at the edge of the road, bleeding his life away.

      Others of the dead, from the dried and brittle to the slimy and bloated, advanced into the midst of the young defensive guard trying to keep them back. Axes driven by powerfully strong men failed to bring down even one of the dead. Confidence swiftly turned to terror and screams, both from the young men and from the townspeople watching.

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