Guardian by Sam Cheever

had happened to us.
    We assumed our back-to-back stance and prepared to die.
    The ceiling slowly lowered toward us like a black, swirling cloud. It had become eerily silent in the cavern and I realized my ears had finally given out. I was deaf.
    Like a bad, silent horror movie I watched the harpies descend on us in a solid wall of death. Layered one upon another over our heads as they pounded their huge wings in slow shallow beats to keep from interfering with each other as they dropped. Their enormous, clawed feet were curved in anticipation of ripping us to shreds, their jaws spread wide in silent screams.
    I felt Ian’s hand at my hip and reached for it. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard, twice. I was sure it was meant as encouragement. Just two warriors set to beat the odds again. But I accepted it for what it really was. A silent goodbye. I squeezed back, hard, and released the hand reluctantly, pulling my weapon from its sheath at my waist and bending my knees in a battle crouch.
    The air thickened as they dropped toward us, the stench condensing until it was almost solid. But then they hit us. And I forgot all about the smell.
    Claws ripped my flesh. Teeth tore at me. In a mindless blur, I swung the knife and stabbed at the horribly human-like bodies with my fork. Ian’s back was pressed firmly to mine and I felt every swing of his sword, every jerk of pain as another piece of his body was ripped, another limb wrenched.
    I connected more often than not. And we were definitely doing some damage. Several huge bodies already littered the ground around us, forming a bumpy pile of dead stinkiness as we fought on through the endless wave of them riding the air above our heads. But I knew that the supply of harpies would long outlive our ability to kill them.
    They just kept coming.
    The long knife was slick now with my blood and I could barely hold onto it. I longed to wipe my blood coated fingers on my shirt, but I didn’t dare take even the two seconds of time to do it.
    Ian and I turned in a slow, constant circle as we slashed and stabbed with our weapons, kicking our legs desperately into soft, unprotected bellies. We were like a slowly spinning porcupine, more deadly because we were hugging death ourselves.
    I slashed at the wing of one harpies as another descended on me. I stabbed my fork into the second harpy just as a third swept in and grabbed my already torn shoulder with her razor-like teeth.
    Pain sluiced through me as she wrenched my shoulder hard, making me drop my fork as the arm went numb. In desperation I kicked out and connected hard across her middle. Her teeth released me as she sailed away, but my arm hung useless against my side.
    I swung the long knife across the first harpy’s throat and black blood sprayed me as she went down. We had so many dead harpies around us at that point that I was using them as a protective wall against the unending wave of monsters still attacking us from above.
    I felt Ian jerk against my back and he suddenly dropped away from me, falling to his knees on the ground. I turned and slashed the throat of the harpy that rode him down, severing her nasty head completely in my enthusiasm.
    Ian climbed slowly to his feet but it was too late.
    That single second of inattention was enough. We went down under a new layer of monsters.
    Ian’s hand found mine again as we hit the ground. I grasped his hand gratefully and said my final prayers. My body jerked as an endless array of teeth and claws ripped away at it. My knife arm was pinned and I was helpless, unable even to put up a fight as I felt teeth closing over my throat. I knew I was one breath away from final death.
    Ian’s hand grasped mine convulsively and then fell away.
    The teeth on my throat tightened inexorably, closing off my ability to breath and ripping at my flesh. Warm blood trickled down my throat and I was suddenly numb. I felt my soul form lifting away from the worthless husk of my body.
    In my soul form