Gwendolyn

The hundred foot dam shattered upon the Golem's fist, and the Gloam rushed through. It washed over the shattered stone like water rushing through a broken levee wall, curling over itself as it covered the ground. The mist moved with the ferocity of a runaway train, and the enveloping awe of a flood. It devoured the orchards, swallowed the tall grains, and charged towards them with every breath.

Gwendolyn clutched her medical bag, and stared at the Gloam transfixed, unable to move, breathe, or shout in warning. With how thoroughly fear had clamped down on her throat and smothered her thoughts, it astonished her that Corporal Valen managed to say anything at all.

"Torches!" the lean corporal bellowed. "Light your torches!"

His voice shook her out of her paralysis and launched her into motion. Gwendolyn turned to the dozen of teenagers she had been looking after all these months, and waving her arms, shouted, "Get close together, as close as you can! Hurry!"

Her kids pressed together, squeezing into a small circle facing outwards in every direction. As the kids gathered, the other soldiers fumbled with their torches. The specialist, Mildred, had set the torch on the ground and was trying to light it with flint and her knife. The reedier young soldier, Darius, was pouring something onto the end of the torch, while Hendricks, the one with the fancy haircut and the High-Central accent, was frantically looking from one of his companions to the next, trying to figure out what to do.

Gwendolyn spun back to Valen frantically, just as the corporal dropped his flint stone into the dirt. Instead of picking it up, he pulled his Salamander off his shoulder and set the torch alongside the barrel, with the end of the torch just ahead of the muzzle. He pointed the gun towards a bushy tree, and fired.

The flash of brilliant blue fire might as well have been a lighting bolt for how much Gwendolyn jumped. The light seared her vision, forcing her to turn her head and blink for a moment until her vision returned.

When she looked back, Valen was standing in front of her with a lit torch in his hand. The Salamander was draped over the arm holding the torch, open. He was fitting another cartridge into the gun, rolling his thumb over the back of the shell until it stopped wiggling. He snapped it close, and pulled the rifle away. "Take this," he said. "Go help Mildred light her torch."

Gwendolyn nodded, gripped the torch tightly, and sprinted towards where the specialist was still struggling to throw sparks on her torch. She skidded to a stop, knelt down and touched the end of torch with her own until it burst to life.

"Thanks!" Specialist Mildred said, tapping her fist on her chest once as she stood up. Gwendolyn glanced up ahead, to see Darius was imitating Valen's trick with his Salamander, firing a shot to light the torch. She glanced to Hendricks and saw Valen holding another lit torch in his hand, offering it to Hendricks, who nodded and gave Valen one of his spares in exchange.

Valen caught her glance, and gestured towards their original position. Gwenodlyn nodded, and jogged back. He reached her with surprising speed, and held out his hand for the torch."Your position is going to be between me and the kids, in case I need to hand you the torch again."

"Yes," Gwendolyn agreed, handing him the torch. Her eyes were fixed on the oncoming mist devouring the ground between them.

"Aranhall," The corporal said. His voice was steady, solid, easily as firm as the walls. He had turned away from the onrushing Gloam, deliberately put his back to it, and he was smiling. "Your job will be to keep them together, and keep them focused. Don't expect them to be calm. But if you smile, keep their eyes on that trench, and remind them that the Causeway is just as close as it was before, they'll follow you. And we'll get out of this."

Valen raised his torch in the air, extending his arm as high as it could go. "As of right now, we are their wall."

She saw him as if she had never seen him before. As much as she might respect the others, Mildred for her earnest competence, Darius for his quiet focus, and Hendricks for his still cheerful disposition, it was difficult to think of them as people she felt safe depending on. But Redgrave was something else entirely. Gwendolyn found herself standing up straighter, and nodded. "Thank you."

The Gloam rushed across the field towards them, it's onslaught devoured the horizons and even the sky. It swept toward them, around them, devouring the trees and greens as the night air turned silent around it. But as it neared, and the churning mists made to sweep over them, Valen kept his back to it. His smile didn't falter, and the hand holding the torch didn't waver,

Gwendolyn knew what she was seeing, was a sight that had just seared itself in her memory. Etched with fire into the core of her thoughts, redefining the meaning of desperate hope, this sight would only leave her the moment the fire of her life escaped with her last breath. And for every moment until her end, hope would have the face of a sandy haired young man with a slightly crooked nose, calloused hands, and a voice that could calm a storm.

The Gloam encircled them, entombed them, and only shied reluctantly from the soldiers' torches. The firelight reflected off the mass of grey mist that now sat around them like walls and a ceiling. Like a prison cell.

Or a coffin.

But with one last glance at Valen, Gwendolyn took a deep breath, and tried to put her fear aside. "Well," she said, and the group of teenagers turned to her. She smiled a smile she didn't feel, and shrugged a theatrical shrug. "I didn't want to look at the Golem anyway."

They stared at her with that distinctly teenaged expression, a stupefied cross between bemused and appalled, and the silence stretched on for a long moment. It was broken, eventually, by Roderick, when a laugh broke through his lips like a leak in a boiler, starting with a whistling hiss, and leading up to a heartfelt bellow as he doubled over and laughed.

Roderick's laugher proved highly contagious. The youth around him began to giggle and snicker, slapping their knees and wiping tears from their eyes. Even Hendricks and Mildred, still watching the Gloam with torches in hand, were laughing with amused, if bemused, expressions.

She felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she turned to see Valen standing almost right beside her. His smile had faded, and he had leaned forward to put his mouth barely a foot from her ear. "Well done. Now let's get them moving. There might be more out there than just the Gloam."

Gwendolyn's eyes widened, and she turned to face the corproal. In a whisper, she asked, "Gloamtaken?"

Valen nodded solemnly.

"Right," Gwendolyn said, aand she found her own fear felt strangely comfortable as she spoke. She turned back to the kids, and said, "The Causeway is still there. And you're standing on the furrow that leads right to the stairs. The only thing that's changed is you don't get to gawk at the scenery any more."

"Darius!" Valen called our from behind her. "Let's keep them moving. Like the lady said, we're not here to pick berries, so start us at an easy jog."

"Aye, sir!" the young soldier shouted back in response. Darius waved his torch, and it crackled as he whipped it about, drawing the dozens of eyes in the middle of the group towards him. "So, nice easy jog. Stay together and watch your footing."

Darius pushed himself into a lazy run, taking long steps as he advanced. Hendricks did the same at her corner, and the youth surged forward to follow them. As the two lead torches advanced, the Gloam creeped towards the opening gap. Mildred sprinted close to the rear of the group, nearly running into one of the teenagers before the Gloam shied away again.

Gwendolyn followed, but occasionally she would glance back at Valen, who was occasionally falling behind. He was glancing back in regular intervals, scanning the edges of the Gloam, and his salamander was in his hand.

The tension minutes were punctuated by sounds Gwendolyn couldn't identify. Grunts and moans that didn't seem to come from the people around her. The patter of feet stepping in soil coming from somewhere behind her, where there was nothing but the Gloam. Twigs that she couldn't see snapping. Branches rustling.

The minutes were tense, brutal, and passed at a crawl. Because the Gloam had blotted out everything around them, it was impossible to track their progress. It became very easy, as the tension and the fatigue wore on, to believe they were trapped on a path that had no end.

Then from her right, something broke through the mist.

A person staggered out of the Gloam. Head cocked to one side so far it might be resting on its shoulder, mildews rags clinging to an emaciated, skeletal frame. Grey mist trickled out of the open mouth, and it's eyes were as pale as its pallid skin.

Two more creatures stepped out of the mist. The trio charged.

"Gloamtaken! Hold your posts!" Valen bellowed, and he darted forward until he was between the emaciated figure and the kids. He pointed his Salamander at the closest creature, and a lance of bright blue flame cut through it.

The creature crumpled to the ground like a puppet without its strings, its limbs flailing as it tumbled in the dirt. The other two dashed at Valen, devouring the distance so quickly that Valen only managed to open the Salamander before they were nearly in arms reach.

Valen let go of his salamander, and the hiss of the blade sounded before the rifle struck the ground. The steel flashed in the torchlight, and the nearest creature was impaled on his sword in a motion so swift Gwendolyn's eyes couldn't follow it.

But the sword, even punched clean through the creature's chest, didn't slow it down. The impaled Gloamtaken surged forward and grabbed Valen at the shoulders, trying to drag him to the ground.

Valen let go of the sword, dropped the torch, and pulled the Gloamtaken by its arm and swung it into the ground. Still the thin creature tried to grab at Valen's legs, forcing him to jump away even as the third one reached for him from behind.

But Valen twisted underneath the creature's grasp, and stepped away as the Gloamtaken collapsed at his feet. Gwendolyn only realized that Valen had stabbed the creature in the chest when he slowly sheathed his knife.

"Open wound," Valen said to himself, but loud enough for Gwendolyn to hear. He stepped up to the Gloamtaken still holding his sword in its chest, and as it pushed itself up to its knees, pulled his sword out. "Open wound to the lungs."

The creature collapsed to the ground at Valen's feet. Redgrave stopped for a moment to wipe his sword clean on his coat, sheathed his sword, and picked the still burning torch and the salamander up from the ground.

To Gwendolyn's surprise, Valen then stepped up and offered her his torch. "You should carry this. If the ground were wet, we might have lost people."

"Well, we're all still alive," Gwendolyn said, trying to be comforting. Though she took the torch.

"Sir!" Darius called out. "Everyone okay?"

"We're okay. Let's keep the group moving," Valen shouted back. "It's a bad time to linger."

"Gloamtaken!" Mildred cried out, as she scampered back to the teenagers and extended her arm, offering torch to one of the youth. By the time the young boy took it from her, the Gloamtaken had devoured the distance, and Mildred's Salamander was still on her back.

"Mildred! Your knife!" Gwendolyn called out, as the Gloamtaken leapt at her. Mildred drew her knife as the creature grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to the ground, following her down and with swinging fists and a wide mouth.

The creature's head fell beside Mildred's shoulder, and both lay there unmoving. Gwendolyn moved to help, but Valen waved her off. "You have the torch. Watch your corner, and if you see anything, shout."

Valen dashed over, punched his knife into and out of the creature once, then rolled it off Mildred.

Gwendolyn smiled in relief when Mildred sat up, and reached into the nearby dirt for the knife.

"Good kill," Valen said, holding out his hand. Mildred took it, and rose to her feet.

"Sorry sir. I froze. I should have used the Salamander, or my sword," Mildred said, drawing her rifle off her shoulder and holding it in both hands. "It won't happen again."

"Good. Salamanders are heavy, it would be a shame to carry it all these miles just to stick to knife work," Valen said. He put his hand on Mildred's shoulder, and said, "You just killed one of those things. Remember it."

Valen jogged back beside Gwendolyn, and feel into step as the group kept moving. They jogged with purpose now, but every step was a nerve-wracking experience, each slightly worse than the last.

And the minutes stretched on, their destination taken on faith, as the Gloam billowed and churned, flowing from her torch, around Mildred and Hendricks, and meeting in the distance past Darius. Much like the Gloam surrounded the City, as it tried to finish drowning the world.