"AHHHHHHHHH"
Kai roared, a sound of pure pain and effort. He swung the glowing, red-hot blade in a circle. The heat was so great that the mist around him vanished, creating a clear bubble in the fog.
The Stalker tried to dodge, but the heat from the blade cooked its oily skin before the sword even touched it.
The blade passed through the Stalker's middle; there was no resistance. The heat cauterised the wound instantly, making the black ichor hiss and turn into foul-smelling gas.
The monster fell into two pieces, its four eyes dimming as the blue fire inside them went out.
Kai didn't stop to breathe; he turned his head toward the front of the caravan.
Joram was pinned against a wagon wheel by the second Stalker. The guard's spear was broken, and the monster's claws were inches from his throat.
Kai threw his weight forward and lunged like a predator towards Joram. Every step he took left a charred, steaming footprint in the mud. He reached the second Stalker just as it raised its limb for the kill.
He didn't use the edge of the blade; rather, he smashed the flat of the red-hot sword against the Stalker's head.
The impact sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. The monster's skull shattered, and it was thrown ten feet away, rolling through the mud until it hit a tree.
The third Stalker, seeing two of its kin dead, let out a long, vibrating whistle. The remaining Ghouls immediately stopped their attack.
They didn't run away in fear; they retreated into the mist with perfect discipline, vanishing like smoke.
Kai stood in the middle of the road, his chest heaving; the red glow on The Scourge slowly faded back to black.
The heat in his shoulder began to pull back, leaving behind a sensation of cold, dead weight. He felt like his arm was made of stone.
He fell to one knee, using his sword as a crutch. His left arm was shaking violently, and a thin trail of blood ran from his nose.
The price for that burst of power was high; he had pushed the Fire Mark too far.
Joram slumped against the wagon wheel, gasping for air. He looked at Kai with wide, terrified eyes. He didn't see a savior; he saw a man who had just turned into a furnace.
"What…what are you?" the guard whispered.
Elara stepped down from the roof of the wagon. She walked past Joram and stood in front of Kai. She didn't look afraid. She reached out and touched the scorched leather of his cloak.
"I told you," she said quietly. "A man who survives the night in the woods is either a ghost or a very expensive blade. I think I got a bargain."
The silence that followed the fight was heavy. The only sound was the cracking of the wood on the scorched tree and the heavy, ragged breathing of the survivors.
Kai stayed on his knee for a long minute. He watched a drop of his own blood fall into the mud. It didn't soak in; it hissed, as if his body was still too hot for the earth.
Miri crawled out from under the wagon floorboards. Her face was pale, and her eyes fixed on the dead Stalker nearby.
She walked over to Kai and stood by his side. She didn't touch him as the air around him still felt like an oven, but she stood close enough to show she wasn't leaving.
"You're bleeding," Miri whispered.
He reached into her small bag and pulled out the piece of wool Kai had given her earlier. She held it out, her small hand trembling.
Kai looked at the cloth, and then at the girl. He took it and wiped the blood from his lip with a grunt.
Elara turned toward the remaining guards. "Check the horses! Joram, get the axe from the second wagon. We need to clear this tree before the mist gets thicker. If we are still here when the moon peaks, we don't need to worry about the city anymore."
Joram stood up shakily. He looked at Kai, then quickly looked away, his face pale with a mix of shame and fear.
He grabbed the axe and began to chop at the blackened wood at the roadblock. Every strike sounded like a gunshot in the foggy stillness of the moor.
Kai stood up, but soon, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder, right where the Mark was.
He reached into the small bag on his waist belt and pulled out a strip of dried, bitter root. He chewed it slowly. It didn't taste like food normal people eat; it tasted like dirt, but it helped dull the Red fire in his veins.
He walked to the back of the caravan and checked his gear. The bag on his back was still secure, though the straps were slightly singed.
He checked the small bag on his belt, ensuring his remaining glowing stones were safe. He only had three left, but in a world of eternal night, three stones were not nearly enough.
"Why did they stop?" Miri asked, looking at the spot where the Ghouls had vanished. "There were so many of them, and you are just one man."
Kai looked at the mist. "They didn't stop because they were afraid," he said. "They stopped because they are smart, they know I am hurt and desperate. They will follow us, staying just outside our sight, waiting for me to weaken. They are letting time do the work for them."
The merchant, Elara, approached Kai. She was holding a small leather flask.
"Take this," she said. "It's salt wine. It's not a medicinal drink, but it will keep your heart beating through the night. We move in ten minutes. I want you on the lead wagon with me."
Kai looked up. The mist had closed in again, thick enough to erase the sky and make it impossible to tell day from night. He needed time, not long, just enough for his body to recover.