The groeliin were too much for him. They swarmed toward him.
Endric let his mind go blank, falling into movements he had long ago learned, patterns and forms he had been taught by his father and others. At some point, he dropped the club, using the spear as a staff. With its length, he could create something of a barrier between he and the groeliin.
Endric spun the staff, jabbing and spinning, attacking with renewed violence.
The fluidity returned to his movements.
Endric continued with the forms, remaining within them.
Something struck him on the back. Endric staggered forward, away from the pile of fallen groeliin. He continued spinning, the spear sweeping through movements.
Would it be enough? Could it be enough?
He knocked down two more groeliin, stabbing one as he did.
He was hit again, this one from the side, and staggered.
Catching himself, he spun around, colliding with the nearest groeliin.
The creature fell, but once more he was struck.
Endric staggered forward.
Now he was fighting near the cub. He stayed near it, protecting it, something he should have done from the very beginning.
Groeliin swarmed toward him.
The spear spun violently, and he wished for Senda’s skill with it and wished that he would've taken the time to learn how to use it fully. Had he her gift, he might stand a chance.
He needed to last long enough to buy the merahl time. He needed to last long enough for them to reach the cub.
The thoughts remained at the forefront of his mind. Endric continued his attack, spinning, swinging, and connecting. His mind remained blank; the only thing that came to him was the sight of one groeliin after another.
As the next one appeared, he smacked it with the staff, spinning onto the next, coming back to where he'd been before, connecting with the creature again. It wasn't nearly as efficient as a sword would have been. With a sword, he could've cut through their hide. While the spear served as a staff, he was forced to hit the groeliin more than once each time, but it was all he had.
Endric danced around, always keeping his feet near the groeliin, always shifting himself back.
Then he heard a sharp, angry howl.
As he did, he almost hesitated. It was the sound of the merahl. It was repeated as another merahl appeared, then another. And finally, a fourth.
Endric hadn’t realized there were four.
The merahl attacked with fangs and claws, a different sort of violence. The groeliin he was facing lost its attention long enough for Endric to crack it across the head and stab at the creature, driving the tip of his spear into it.
He continued to swing the spear, now stepping away from the merahl cub, pushing the groeliin that had brought their attack to him toward the merahl.
Endric was growing tired, but the presence of the merahl gave him renewed strength. He continued to fight, pressing forward. The attack became more intensified, the groeliin nearest him now fighting not only to destroy him but—he suspected—trying to escape.
Another howl came, this one distant.
Another merahl?
The merahl fought the groeliin, who responded with mindless violence. One of the merahl bounded past him, reaching the cub, before bounding back, jumping into the midst of the groeliin, attacking with sharp fangs and claws.
There was a violence bordering on hatred that came from the merahl.
Endric pushed forward, trying to reach the next groeliin. Even with the merahl, he felt as if they were outnumbered.
He continued to attack.
One after another, he hit the groeliin as he swung his spear.
Finally, there were no more.
Endric stopped, panting as he looked around, and noticed the one of the merahl remained near the cub, licking at the cub’s fur. The other three converged on him. As they neared, Endric met each of the massive cat's eyes but wasn't sure which one was the leader. Part of him hoped they were hunting with the Antrilii, but the fact that no Antrilii had come made that less likely.
No, whatever hunting might have happened was driven by the merahl alone.
The nearest reached him and nudged him with its nose.
Endric stood, trying to remain both strong and not appear too defiant.
One of the merahl behind him caught him with its paws, spinning him around.
There was no hint of violence or malice to it. It was simply turning him.
Endric had a memory of how they had trapped Brohmin. If the creatures did the same to him, he didn't like his odds of getting back up.
He was turned again, the next merahl forcing him around, and it sniffed him.
All three had silvery black fur. All three had great eyes that watched him.
“I am Endric, son of Dendril, descendant of the Antrilii.”
Endric didn't know whether the merahl could understand him and decided that it probably didn't matter. They had seemed to respond the time before when he had spoken. He had seen the way Dentoun had seemed to communicate with them as well. There was no harm in attempting to speak to the creature. Nothing other than the possibility that he might actually get through to it.
“I am serving the penance of my father, Dendril, who the Yahinv has claimed abandoned his vows as he went south, to lead the Denraen.” Endric bowed his head, turning once more, this time meeting each of the four merahl’s eyes.
Did they understand him? Did it matter if they did?
“I have been tasked with killing a brood. Only then will my penance have been served. Only then may I return to the Antrilii, so that I can learn about my ancestors.”
Now Endric began to feel foolish. This had to be too much for the merahl to even comprehend. Even if they could understand what he said, now he was speaking of penance and return to the Antrilii?
To his surprise, the merahl nearest the club offered a soft howl.
It had a different note to it than the howl did when merahl were hunting. This carried with it something mournful. The sound tugged at his heart, one that he could almost understand before that feeling faded.
The merahl backed away from him, and one with darker fur around its eyes joined the fourth by the club. They both snapped at the tether that had been tied around the cub’s neck, but Endric didn't think they'd be able to free the creature, not like that.
The other two remaining merahl watched him. Did they think he might attempt something? Did they think that he might harm them?
“I can help,” he said. “Let me free your cub.”
The dark-sided merahl tipped its head forward.
Was that a nod?
Endric hesitantly started forward. When he reached the cub, it licked at his hand, almost playfully. Endric smiled and scratched behind its ear.
One of the other merahl growled softly.
Endric looked over. “Fine. I'm not trying to harm the cub.”
The rope that had been used to trap the cub had a strange texture to it. It was tacky and woven of threads of stringy fibers. As Endric pulled it free, drawing it over the merahl's neck, freeing the cub, he realized what it consisted of.
Flesh.
Not only flesh but tendons and flesh, much like the lace fur that covered his feet.
Had the groeliin used tendons and ligaments of some creature to create a rope that would bind the merahl?
Endric traced the end of the rope to the boulder. As he did, he noticed the stickiness more clearly.
Blood. Whatever they had woven the rope out of was still attached.
Endric looked at the boulder and pushed on it.
It was heavy, but it moved.
As it did, he held his breath, curious what he would find.
What creature had the groeliin woven these ropes out of? Could they have found a wolf? Endric had heard the wolves in the mountains but had never seen any. Could it be a laca, much like what he wore? There were other creatures in the mountains, but it would take somet
hing fairly large to cut strips wide enough to weave into the rope they had used around the merahl's neck.
When the boulder shifted enough, Endric's breath caught.
No creature at all.
A man.
The man's chest was caved in, crushed by the rock. Endric crouched in front, wondering how the groeliin would have come across a man when he saw streaks of paint across the face.
“Antrilii?”
He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but the merahl began to whine softly.
He looked over at them.
They watched him, intelligence gleaming in their bright eyes. Endric didn't understand what happened here, didn't understand why that would be one of the Antrilii, or even how the Antrilii had been captured.
He turned his attention back to the dead Antrilii warrior. Strips of flesh had been flayed off the man’s side, running all the way down his leg, reaching up to his chest. Those strips had been woven together, creating the rope that had held the merahl cub.
It was a horror the way the groeliin had done this.
Endric moved the man and heard the sound of metal scraping along the rock.
He rolled the man over and saw a sword.
Endric claimed the sword, feeling no remorse as he did. For him to survive, he would need more than a staff and a club.
Endric hesitated, frowning as he stared at the man. His face had been painted in streaks of orange and green.
Those colors struck a chord with him, a memory.
Nessa had worn similar colors woven into her hair.
Could there be could that be a coincidence?
He didn't know whether colors mattered, but when he had been before the women of the Yahinv, all had distinct colors. Perhaps those colors signified the tribe they came from. Perhaps that was how the Antrilii knew which tribe was which.
He remembered Nahrsin and Dentoun, both wearing deep red stripes with black on their face. They had a different color as well.
Could that be the key?
If that was the answer, then it meant this man was a member of Nessa's tribe.
Why would one of her tribe be here? They had been to the east.
Unless Endric had wandered too far east.
He had lost his sense of direction as he had tried heading south. Could he have headed southeasterly? Could he have come across the remaining Antrilii?
If that were the case, then where were the others?
They didn't hunt alone, did they?
Though, the more Endric thought of it, the more he realized that it was possible they did. Hadn't he seen an isolated Antrilii when he'd been on the plains with Brohmin?
He was tempted to claim the man's clothes, but that felt wrong for a different reason. Taking his sword was out of necessity. Taking the clothes felt more like he would be claiming the man's identity. He might be descended from the Antrilii, but he was not Antrilii, and the Yahinv had made that painfully clear.
Endric looked at the merahl. “What happened? Where are the others?”
The merahl nearest the cub let out a soft whimper.
“Where are the rest of the Antrilii warriors? If they’re injured, I’ll do what I must to help.”
The merahl offered a soft howl. One of them barked. The two who had remained distant bowed their heads toward him. They started along the slope of the rock. Endric glanced over at them.
“You want me to follow?”
One of the merahl flared his mouth, a flash of teeth.
“Fine. First I need to see how many of these are part of the same brood.”
Endric looked at the groeliin, forced to hold his breath as he came close to the creatures. They had a foul odor to them, one that practically took his breath away. He studied the fallen, noted that most bore the same irregular triangular shape branded on their arm with the single line through it.
Some did not. Some had a very different brand.
Endric stood, frowning. How many broods were here?
He didn't know how many groeliin he had stopped, and how many the merahl had killed. He had counted something near twenty, but was at all there were? Were there more?
One of the merahl offered an encouraging whine, and Endric looked over. They wanted him to follow.
Endric took a deep breath. Then he nodded.
17
Endric climbed carefully up the side of the mountain, following the merahl. They moved on soft, padded feet, and though it was late, they seemed surefooted. The sky was a blanket of darkness overhead. He struggled to keep up, fearing that he might slip on the rocks, but every time he slowed, the merahl slowed as well, giving him a chance to catch up.
There was something reassuring about carrying a sword once again. It was not his sword, and it would take some practice to grow comfortable with carrying it, but having a blade with him again helped him feel almost… normal. What did that say about him that he required a weapon to feel complete?
He glanced back after a while and realized the other two merahl, as well as the cub, followed him as well. He suspected they made a strange procession were anyone to witness it, a single man walking with four merahl and one cub. He was thankful for the faint light from the stars and what illumination did manage to filter through from the moon, because without that he would not be able to know where he was going.
“Where are you leading me?” he asked the merahl.
It felt strange questioning them, but it was also strange to be walking among them. He had the sense that they understood his question. There was something of an understanding between them, and the lead merahl, the one with the dark eyes, swiveled its massive head and looked at him.
How had Dentoun ever known what these creatures were thinking? Endric knew that he had. There had been little question in his mind that his uncle could speak to the merahl, or that they could understand him. Stranger still was that it seemed that the merahl had some way of communicating back to him. Endric didn't share that with Dentoun. He had to simply wander without the same sense of understanding.
“Can you lead me through the mountains?” Endric asked
The lead merahl turned again, this time baring its teeth.
Endric shook his head. If it wouldn't take him through the mountains, that meant he was leading him somewhere else. Not back to the Antrilii city, but where? Where did they want to take him?
At times, he slipped, his laca-booted feet losing purchase, and one of the merahl following him nudged him, lifting him as he started to slip. The first time it happened, Endric had jerked around, startled. The second time had been less frightening. By the third time, Endric had practically expected the creature to be there.
The slope up the rock was steeper than what he had even attempted in the daylight. What was he thinking, trying this at night? What did the merahl intend for him to see by bringing him here?
He lost track of time. They continued for long enough that they got distance between themselves and the fallen groeliin. The part of him wished he would've had the opportunity to count and determine how many groeliin they had killed. It didn't matter how many; he had already seen that there was more than one brood present, which made keeping track of the total number difficult.
He wished for another Antrilii to question, to find out how often the groeliin traveled in combined broods. Was it common for them to do that? When Nessa had sent him on his penance, he had the sense he would only come upon a single brood, though when Nahrsin and Dentoun had come south, there had been hundreds of groeliin, hadn’t there?
There had to have been. Otherwise, why would they have made the journey south? What would have drawn the Antrilii away if not for groeliin in numbers that could escape the Antrilii hunt?
By early morning, just as the sky began to lighten, the merahl sniffed and began pawing at the ground.
Endric took their cue and hesitated, waiting to see what the merahl might do, curious what had prompted them to stop. What had they detected here?
As he waited, he listened.<
br />
He heard the sound of his breathing. It was the loudest, and he forced himself to steady it so that he wasn't nearly so disruptive of the morning. There was the sound of the merahl. From them, he heard an occasional sniff, snorting that told him that they were smelling the air. Endric noted nothing on the air, nothing that hadn’t been there before. There was the crisp bite to it, that of cold and snow and earth, the mixture that felt natural and right.
Though there was more to it.
As he focused on controlling his breathing, as he focused on listening to the merahl's breathing, he became aware of the scent of smoke in the air.
It was faint but other than himself, he'd smelled nothing else for days. The hint of it drifted toward him, and he wondered if they were near a camp.
Had the merahl led him to Antrilii? If they had, he might be able to get to safety. He might be able to continue south.
Mixed with it was another odor. This was something like the stink of rot like a carcass had been lying out too long. It was the scent that he had noticed from the laca after he slaughtered them. It was the scent that reminded him of what he had detected from the groeliin when they were dead. Strangely, he found he was never aware of their stench while they were alive. Only after he killed them did he note how foul they smelled.
Endric reached for his sword, fingering the hilt, allowing himself to be reassured by the feel of it, even if it wasn’t familiar enough to be his own.
He had the spear and both of the clubs, but he wondered if he were in a battle if he would even bother reaching for them. Likely he would only reach for the sword.
He crouched down, crawling toward the dark-eyed merahl. In the time that he'd been traveling with them, he had the sense this creature led the others.
“What is it?” he asked.
The merahl's ears swiveled, twitching toward the west, upslope.
“Is it Antrilii?” Endric asked.
The merahl turned, shook his head.
With that single gesture, any question that the merahl understood him was gone.
How was that possible?
“Is it groeliin?” he asked.
The merahl turned toward him and flashed a mouthful of fangs at him.
Soldier Sworn (The Teralin Sword Book 3) Page 12