There suddenly came shouts from all around him, and Duncan turned every which way, gripping his sword, trying to spot the foe—and then all was chaos.

Duncan suddenly felt an icy grip around his throat and he looked down to see what appeared to be a skeleton, but nearly translucent, like ice, its long claws digging into his throat and piercing his skin. He looked up to see a ghoulish creature, skeleton-like, with empty sockets for eyes, its face inches away, slowly becoming visible in the fog. It opened its mouth impossibly wide, leaned in, and placed it on Duncan’s chest and began to suck.

Even through the creature was toothless, still, the fog walker was suctioning him, like a leech, and he could feel it beginning to suck his body out of him, even through the chainmail. Duncan cried out in pain. With all the energy he could muster, he reached down, grabbed the creature’s skull with both hands, and squeezed. It was a monumental struggle, his arms shaking, as he felt himself getting weaker, feeling as if his heart would be sucked out of his chest.

Finally, the creature’s skull burst, its brittle bones falling all around him.

Duncan breathed hard, rubbing his chest, feeling his skin burning, realizing what a close call that was.

Shouts rose up all around him and Duncan peered through the fog, struggling to see, never having felt so helpless in battle. He could barely make out a thing; all he could sense was motion. He kicked his horse and charged into the mist, realizing he could not sit there; he had to help his men and he would just have to feel his way.

Duncan rode into one of his men and made out a fog walker clinging to his chest, its mouth suctioning him, and he watched in horror as the fog walker suctioned out the man’s heart. It was still pumping in the air as the soldier shrieked and fell, dead, to the ground.

A gale of wind passed through, and for a moment the fog lifted and Duncan spotted hundreds of fog walkers flying through the air, many rising from the Lake of Ire itself. His heart dropped at the sight. He knew if he did not act quickly his men would die on these shores.

“DISMOUNT!” he shouted to his men. “Take the low ground!”

His order carried on the wind, and there came a great rankling of armor as his men all dismounted, and he did, too. Duncan crouched down low to get a better angle on these creatures as they came flying at him in the wind, and as one neared, he raised his sword and slashed. His sword cut it across the torso and there came the sound of clattering bones as it collapsed into pieces all around him.