Warden by Kevin Hardman

to each other.
    “Gods!” the veteran exclaimed, tilting his head up.
    It took Errol a second to orient himself, for his mind to adjust to the spectacle in front of him. He quickly realized it wasn’t trees that he was seeing move; they were, instead, the legs of a gigantic hominid. Like Bander, he quickly adjusted his frame of reference to incorporate more height in his assessment of the creature.
    In general, it was shaped like a man, with two arms, two legs, and a torso. Aside from that (and not taking into account that it was about twenty feet tall), the only difference between it and a normal person was that it appeared to have no head. Instead, its face was on its torso, with eyes on its pectorals, a nose below, and then a mouth on its stomach.
    It was a monster that Errol recognized, but had never encountered: a Blemmye.
    The creature had a brownish-gray complexion that resembled tree bark in color. Considering the fact that its only clothing was a type of kilt made of leaves that was worn around its waist, it was easy to see how Errol had mistaken its legs for parts of the forest.
    He had no time to dwell on his error, however, as the creature, growling fiercely, had reached the edge of their camp with just a few strides. The wards flared up, creating a crimson barrier that kept the monster from breaching their perimeter.
    The creature howled in fury, revealing a maw full of red gums and sharp, pointed teeth the size of steak knives. In addition, the sound it emitted was like the roar of a dragon, chilling and deadly. Furiously, but ineffectively, it beat against the mystical barrier keeping it from its prey, each blow sounding off like a thunderous drumbeat.
    Still on guard, Bander let out a small sigh of relief and Errol sent up a silent prayer as it became clear that the wards would hold. The monster wasn’t going to get in.
    “What is that thing?” Bander asked.
    “A Blemmye,” Errol answered.
    “Let me guess: it wants to eat us?”
    Errol didn’t bother with a response, as it was obviously a rhetorical question. They were in the Badlands; everything here wanted to eat them.
    Although stymied in its efforts to get a meal, the Blemmye wasn’t ready to give up. It began circling the encampment, growling as it regularly and rhythmically banged on the barrier with a meaty fist the size of a hay bale.
    Errol began to relax slightly. While there was still a threat present, it appeared that they would be safe for–
    Errol felt himself immediately grow tense again as his ears picked up a new sound. With the monster’s last blow on the wall created by the wards, the noise the impact created had resonated differently. The tone deviated from what they had been hearing…a bit more hollow, perhaps. Shallower. Even the Blemmye was seemingly taken by surprise.
    Suddenly Errol’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. At the same time, the monster, sensing an opportunity, began banging on the barrier in this new spot with renewed fervor. Even worse, the reverberations that echoed with each blow were something both Errol and Bander recognized from experience: the sound of a weakening ward barrier.
    It was abundantly clear what was happening. The wards that Bander had instructed Errol to etch – those that were weaker than Errol’s own – were failing. The Blemmye, obviously a more powerful foe than the wards had been expected to bar, was going to get in, probably in just a few seconds.
    “Quickly!” Bander shouted, already on the move. “We have to go!”
    Errol was already in motion before his companion had even gotten the first syllable out. He spent precious seconds collecting a few necessities – his log, rations, etc. (The rest could be recovered later – if they survived.) And that’s when he noticed something he should have perceived immediately: the horses were gone.
    Errol could have kicked himself. The fact that there had been no wild snorts or neighs of terror should have registered with him.