Read Down Among the Dead Men (Forest Kingdom Novels) for Free Online Page A

evil thoughts given shape and substance.
    Something the size of a man’s head, with thick black fur and a dozen legs, came flapping out of the darkness on bat’s wings. MacNeil cut it out of the air and it exploded wetly, showering him with foul-smelling blood that burned where it touched his bare skin. And while he was distracted, shaking and cursing, a patchwork demon with a vast corpse-pale body and huge scything jaws slammed into him from nowhere and threw him to the ground.
    For a moment all MacNeil could see was a confusion of human and demon feet all around him, slipping and stamping in the crimson mud. He lashed out at the pale demon as it bent over him, and screamed shrilly as its claws tore through his ragged chain mail. He wriggled away through the mud, then drove his boot up into the creature’s gut, desperation lending him strength. The demon lurched backward, caught off balance, and MacNeil surged to his feet. By the time he had his feet under him again, the pale demon was gone, carried away by the shifting press of bodies, but there were still more demons to be faced. MacNeil wiped blood and tears from his face with his sleeve and hacked about him with his sword to try to clear himself some space. He put all his remaining strength into his blows, and the power from his muscular arms and broad chest drove his sword deep into demon flesh and out again in steady butchery.
    The demons came from all sides now, vicious and unrelenting, and the night wasn’t dark enough to hide the horror of what they did. MacNeil fought on. He had no idea of how many demons he’d killed. He’d lost count long ago. It didn’t make any difference. There were always more. He swung his sword double-handed now, and the hilt jarred in his hands as he hacked through a demon’s spine. There were screams all through the night, and somewhere close at hand a man was cursing endlessly, his voice thick and empty. A woman sobbed, loud and anguished, until the sound broke off suddenly. And then the demons were retreating as suddenly as they’d come, melting silently back into the endless night.
    MacNeil lowered his dripping sword and leaned on it, fighting for breath. The air was full of the stench of blood and death. The great muscles in his arms and back ached horribly, and he was deathly tired. There was no end to the demons, and the intervals between their attacks were getting shorter. They came to the slaughter like pigs at a trough, and there was no end to their appetite for carnage. And strong as he was, MacNeil knew there were limits to his strength, and he was fast approaching them.
    He slowly straightened up and looked about him. There were bodies everywhere, and the barricades had been all but torn apart. The dead and the wounded lay where they had fallen on the blood-soaked ground. No one had the time or the strength to drag them away. Many of the bodies showed signs of feasting. The demons were always hungry. The long night was bitterly cold, and MacNeil pulled his tattered cloak about him. His hands shook, not entirely from the cold. High above, the Blue Moon shone down from a starless night, and the Darkwood held dominion over all the Forest. Demons swarmed everywhere in the darkness surrounding the small besieged town of King’s Deep. The town had been cut off from the outside world for so long its defenders were no longer sure how long it had been. The nightmare seemed to go on forever, as though it had always been happening and always would. No sun rose or set in the Darkwood; there was only the endless night and the creatures that moved in it.
    MacNeil clutched his sword tightly, but it had lost all power to comfort him. He’d always thought of himself as brave, but that was before the Darkwood. In the past he’d fought footpads and smugglers and Hillsdown spies, and never given a damn for the danger. He was strong and fast and good with a sword, and he’d never once backed down from a fight. Unlike many of his fellow