The following is the continuation of a novella I am currently working on. If you are interested in the backstory feel free to check out the posts "No Reward Can Be Spent in the Grave" and "The Good Inman." I hope you enjoy and or course any and all criticism is welcome
The Green Woman
Remmy woke in a gasp, his lungs straining under the weight of an untold number of dead. The world was a hazy black fog that smelled of roasted pork and earth. He moved an arm out of the way so he could see. The head of his comrade, Morangie, lay in his lap.
“Glendin” he uttered in a raspy whisper, and then he realized someone had bleed all over his cuirass. Then Remmy saw the dirk sticking out of his gut, and it bigger brother buried to the cross guard in his breast.
He ripped the blade from his chest screaming through clenched teeth and flinging a string of red droplets across the corpse strewn ground. In the distance, metal clanged on metal, men screamed curses in various languages. The waters of the Bannorn lapped on the muddy shores with red waves.
A shadow cast itself over Remmy. An iron barbarian, clad in thick metal from the boots to helmet stood over him. In one hand was the most brutal looking spear he had ever seen.
It twirled the spear’s jagged rock head down toward Remmy’s throat, a grisly piece of flesh hanging on the tip. It’s arms were looped with the stolen torques of a hundred dead Valorians and they jingled every time it moved.
A mane of black hair fell out on it’s shoulders when it took the helmet off.
“The woman…” Remmy thought to himself with no surprise.
The helmet thudded as it hit the ground. She had fine green silk for skin and a greasly black smile. Two small brown tusks peaked out on both corners of her mouth in an oddly innocent manor.
“Your path grows darker and darker by the step, Remyan” she said, her voice an echo. “But don’t fret, my love. The followers of the Black One shall bear to his witness. Not you. Oh no. Their blood is rat’s milk by compare. Yours is the rarest vintage of all the fine wines in the world. An auguring is afoot, bazra. You will see the truth in the red streamers like the warlocks of old.When the Thresher comes, sowing a crop of tears, you’ll know what to do. Tis your nature. Then the fermentation will be complete. Then we can embark on ya true calling.”
Remmy opened his mouth to speak but all that came out were bloody hacks. That’s when he realized the spearhead was sticking out of his neck. Suddenly the coughs became great red globes, spilling over his chin and down his throat. He put both hands over his mouth in a fruitless attempt to quell the flow.
A slender hand pulled his hair back to meet her eyes, her face so close he felt her breath.
“Shhhhhhh, love” she said in a voice just above a whisper. “Can’t we have this moment, at least in our dreams?” Her kiss was as soft as the touch of morning sunlight on a lonely grave.