Excerpt: Infernal

The blackness of the forest closed in around him, circled around his failing body and gripped him tighter and tighter with every horrible pound of his too-insistent heart. He almost felt as though he were being held by a snake that was slowly constricting the life from him. Panting and starting to grow desperate, while his vision spun and his balance faltered, he pulled frantically at his plate armor with what little strength he had left in him. The steel fell to the leaf-covered earth with a light thud, and even that tiny sound was muted beneath the crushing darkness.

It wasn’t enough. The freezing spot on the back of his neck was growing steadily, up to the base of his skull, down the length of his spine between both of his shoulder blades. And yet, for some reason, his entire body felt as though it were on fire. He knew it was impossible, but he could’ve sworn he felt steam rising from his skin and getting trapped in the thick fabric of his battle tunic. He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, but to no avail. Curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, Raidaren sloppily tugged the garment up his body in a rather ungraceful attempt to get it off. It got caught halfway up, twisted around his chin and across to his ear, and he began to panic, pulling at it desperately and only making the knot tighter.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. His heart was like a drum, counting the seconds down until the end of his life. A thick coat of sweat covered his entire body, some of it falling away in large beads. They rolled down the length of his neck, and he could feel the moisture drip down the small of his back and disappear into the fabric of his trousers. His stomach was still turning and churning, and his head was near ready to explode.

His tunic finally came free. Raidaren gasped loudly as the fabric disappeared from his face, as though he’d suddenly surfaced from being held under water for far too long. He sucked in air greedily as much as he could as he fell forward, catching himself on the palms of his hands. It was funny. When he’d first gone out on this mission, he never once expected that he would end up half-naked in the forest, sweating and gasping on his hands and knees.

Moisture dripped from the tip of his nose. It was slightly pinkish in color, which worried him: there were still hints of blood coming from his injuries. Just how much had he lost? Swallowing once, he allowed his sight to travel to his arms. It was hard to see much of anything anymore. The woods had become nearly completely blanketed in the terrible darkness, and the only thing that could be made sense of anymore was Raidaren’s own person. Eventually, his vision focused long enough for him to see his arms in front of his face.

He nearly reeled back in shock.

His veins had turned dark. All down the length of both arms were spidery black veins, all completely visible, down to the tiniest branching capillary. Feeling a sudden burst of adrenaline, Raidaren forced himself to sit back on his heels as his mid-panic became full-fledged. The whispering on the icy wind started to become more and more coherent with every second he stared down at his own hands.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Against his better judgment, Raidaren glanced down at his chest. The situation there was even worse. Maybe it was just because there were more blood vessels in his chest and abdomen than there were on his arms, but it sure as the seven hells seemed like the situation was worse. Dark, nightmarish veins scrawled their way all along his toned, muscled body, and the skin around them paled to horrifying lengths.

“Am I haunted…?” he wondered allowed, distraught and terrified.