One and a half star-cycle had passed since Haran's visit, and life in Haugstad had settled back into its rhythms. The Season of Nadia once again brought heat that pressed down on the fields, making every swing of the hoe feel twice as heavy. Agnus straightened from his work, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache, and looked across the golden wheat stretching toward the forest's edge.
Around him, other villagers worked in companionable silence. Mikhail was two rows over, old Henrik closer to the fence, and young Petra near the irrigation ditch. The only sounds were the whisper of stalks and the occasional grunt of effort.
"Anyone else thirsty?" Mikhail called out, wiping his brow. "I'm thinking of heading back for water."
"Bring extra," Agnus replied with a slight smile. "This heat's—"
He stopped as he heard something in the wheat move. It wasn't much, just a ripple. It was maybe fifteen paces ahead of Agnus's position. The stalks bent and swayed, then stilled.
Agnus frowned. "Someone let the dogs out again?"
Henrik laughed from his row. "It was me. They are probably chasing rabbits. Sorry about that."
But the wheat moved again. This time, more stalks were being bent.
"Henrik, how about you call up your dogs?" Agnus asked with his voice now being more nervous.
"Sure thing," Henrik said and proceeded to whistle a brief melody.
But to the surprise of many, wheat started to move from the other direction, and in a few moments, two dogs appeared in front of the three men.
"That's not dogs," Petra said quietly.
More movement. The wheat was alive with it now, stalks parting in a continuous line as though something slid between them.
"Could be deer," Mikhail suggested, but his voice lacked conviction. "Or boar, maybe."
Agnus gripped his hoe tighter. Something felt wrong. The air had gone too still.
"Petra," Henrik turned to the younger man. "Go check what's making that noise."
"I'll look," Petra interrupted. He pushed into the wheat, stalks closing behind him. Movement between the wheat had stopped.
"Maybe it was some rodent, and it went to its hole. I don't see anything. I'm coming back."
But just as he turned, a hiss cut through the air like tearing cloth.
Petra's scream came half a second later. It was high, but cut short.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the wheat exploded with movement; something was fast approaching.
"RUN!" someone, Henrik yelled. As the man ran towards the rest of the villagers, panic started to kick in, and the villagers broke. Tools clattered to the ground as they scattered, some toward the village, others toward the tree line, panic overriding reason.
"NO!" Agnus's voice echoed. "Together! Stay together and head for the village! We need weapons!"
Mikhail, closest to him, stopped his panicked flight and turned back. "Agnus is right! To the village! Stay in a group!"
Others heard, correcting their paths, clustering together as they ran. The group moved as one, crashing through the wheat toward the village fence visible ahead.
Behind them, the stalks thrashed and bent. Whatever hunted them was fast.
"Everyone, switch route towards the cemetery, let's drag it away from the village and use graves as obstacles!" Henrik yelled.
The group now regrouped and ran along through the wheat toward the cemetery, which was at the edge of the fields.
Agnus glanced back as they ran, watching for movement in the wheat. The thrashing had shifted direction, no longer pursuing them but angling away. He was confused as he slowed down and turned around to assess the situation.
Suddenly, he could see the movement of the creature in the wheat going towards the village. Why is it not following us? Then his blood went cold.
The children.
The children were playing near the fields as they waited for their fathers to finish the work.
In that moment, as if he gained superhuman strength, Agnus rushed towards the road. There was no breathing; he was hyper-focused. It was a race against seconds. He even managed to grab a hoe that was dropped by someone when the commotion happened.
"CHILDREN!" Agnus's shout came out raw. "RUN!"
The children stopped their game and turned towards the wheat field. They were uncertain about the sound they heard. But then another "RUN" followed, and from the fields a large snake head emerged.
The children screamed and scattered, but not before Agnus saw it fully. Two meters of black scales and muscle, as thick around as a man's thigh. Its movement was manic, its eyes switching between children and Agnus. Black ichor dripped from fangs that were too long, hissing where it touched the ground.
Agnus threw himself between the serpent and the children, the hoe raised like a hammer. "Get to the village! NOW!"
Behind him, small feet pounded away. He saw Heron among the children. The serpent's head swiveled toward Agnus, and its body coiled with unnatural fluidity.
Agnus swung the hoe with all his strength. The wooden handle connected with the serpent's head with a solid crack, but the creature barely flinched. It was like striking a stone. The impact jarred Agnus's arms, nearly tearing the tool from his grip.
The serpent recoiled, then came again, faster this time. Agnus jabbed at it, trying to keep distance between them, but the creature moved with impossible speed, as it dodged his attacks.
Then it found its opening.
The fangs sank into Agnus's side, just below his ribs. The pain was immediate. But also, it felt wrong somehow. It was not the tearing of flesh that caused it, but something else, something that burned from the inside like molten metal poured into his veins. Agnus screamed, the hoe falling from his hands.
The serpent's jaw clamped down harder. Agnus' vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges.
But the children were running. He could hear their footsteps, their frightened cries. They needed time.
With what little strength he had, he grabbed the hoe by its metal head and swung it towards the serpent's eye. The serpent released him with a contemptuous hiss. Agnus staggered, nearly falling, but stayed on his feet.
Another swing. Another. He was slowing, weakening, but he couldn't stop. If he stopped, it would go after the children.
But the serpent countered, this time preparing the deadly blow. But just as it propelled its fangs for Agnus' throat, a loud clang echoed through the air. The head of the serpent rolled a few feet away from Agnus.
Through the blurry vision, he saw a silhouette of a warrior with a large metal axe.
Agnus's legs gave out. He hit the ground hard, the hoe clattering beside him.
"Agnus!" Malcolm was running toward him, others following. "Don't move; we've got you."
"The children," Agnus gasped.
"They are safe," Yuri said, kneeling beside him. "They made it to the village. You saved them."
Agnus looked down at himself for the first time. Two puncture wounds wept almost black blood. And from those wounds, dark veins spread under his skin, radiating outward with each heartbeat. The flesh around the bite had already begun to turn gray.
"Get the healer," Malcolm said, his voice tight. "Now."