Excerpt: Echo in the Dark

The battlefield lay almost silent, the whisper of the wind and the soft, squelching sounds of the survivors providing little relief from the quiet’s heavy weight. The clearing was roughly 200 yards in diameter, yet little of the ground itself could be seen. The bodies of the dead were scattered across the field like macabre ragdolls. What little bits of earth peeked through the carnage were hardly discernible as such; rivulets of sticky crimson trickled from the mouths, eyes, and noses of every corpse, pooling nearly three inches deep in some places. Those who fell now did so with a sickening splash, deepening the gore beneath them.

On the hill above, two horses pranced restlessly, straining against the wrongness of the scene below. Years of training had hardened the mounts, but only the will of their master held them in place. Fear rolled off of them in waves; the whites of the mares’ eyes showed as they rolled in their sockets, front hooves hardly touching the ground as their natures fought against the magic which bound them to the spot. A word, barely breathed, settled them again. The tramping of the horses’ hooves as they quieted drowned out the muffled sputtering of another soldier as he fell before the hill.