chapterfoursix

Cahira stared at her burning hands. At least her mind was no longer being raped by the Undead's collective brain. She was afraid to find how damaged her hands were. Caden had washed away the filth with a bottle of forgotten booze lying near her family's tree-tavern. He had shielded her from the sight as he had poured the liquor over her arm causing even more stinging pain and then tearing the left sleeve off his uniform, tearing it in half, wiped away the last bit of filth, and then wrapping her hands in the remaining pieces. The pain was lessening, now just a dull thudding pain. She wished she could return to the fight but knew it was impossible. She couldn't hold a weapon with her damaged hands.
     Rhian grabbed Cahira and shoved Caden away from her. "Cahira, we have to go to Ailis. Right now!" she ordered.
     "Ailis!" yelped Cahira and Rhian nodded. The two began to stumble sprint away from the scene. Caden stared after them confused.
     "They'll be fine, sir. Thank you," Badir said, and he too sprinted off to leave Caden to confusion and battle.
     Suddenly, as if struck with a whip, the Undead collectively stiffened. It chilled the heart of even Connor. The Stranger had seen it before, but still it gave him the creeps whenever the collective mind took control of the rotting corpses and they acted as one. Even though, it meant that they were going to retreat into the abyss. They ran losing their visual clarity as they did until they were barley discernable ripples and held no substance. They would appear somewhere nearby some time in the not quite distant future. No one was sure why or how. The Stranger had been studying and tracking them for such a long time and still knew not what control them and what could make them become whispers in reality, unable to form substance or move on the own accord but yet just drift in the wind for a window of 38 hours to 42 hours before disappearing all together and reappearing days and miles later.

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