The Anak’im roared and glared around, looking for his new tormentor. A few heartbeats later, a second arrow flew out of the woods and struck the giant in the chest.
The giant saw only the empty road and the devastation he had caused. Chert’s light disoriented the Anak’im, making the darkness under the trees impenetrable. Squinting to see better, the creature rubbed his head with his beefy hand and found several large, sticky lumps where the dwarf had struck. Blood streamed from his scalp and soaked into his bearskin.
Another stinging pain penetrated his thick hide, and he turned, searching for the archer. The arrows were coming too fast. A fourth flew, striking the giant again in the chest, and then a fifth. Finding the point where the arrows originated, he hurled his club.
Xandor watched with grim satisfaction as the club flew past him and crashed into the trees. Across the way, the horns of Chert’s great helmet moved steadily through the woods toward the giant.
Whispering the arcane command word, Xandor sent golden fire licking up his blades as he stepped into the light and shouted, “Missed me!”
The Anak’im swung around and glared at the impudent human. “Die, little man!” He snatched up a nearby boulder and strode forward, winding up to hurl the stone. He took two steps and let go as a hammer flew out of the darkness. It smashed against the side of giant’s skull with a loud thunderclap, causing his aim to go awry.
To the side of Xandor, tree branches crashed down, shorn off twenty feet above the ground by the giant’s errant boulder. He charged forward, both blades swinging, as the splintering of wood competed with the sound of the hammer’s thunderclap.
Chert’s blow had turned the Anak’im toward him, so Xandor passed behind, hamstringing the giant with both burning blades.
Falling to his knees, the giant screamed in rage and grabbed wildly for the fleeting shadows that darted in and out of his darkening vision. His horrific cries merged with another thunderclap and turned into a weak mewling.
Xandor looked at the dwarf, saying only, “Finish it.” He extinguished his blades and disappeared into the darkness.
Chert looked grimly at the whimpering Anak’im and grimaced.
* * *
Xandor paused a few feet into the woods to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness after the brightness engendered by Chert’s prayer. He listened for the Northman and heard him crashing through the dry underbrush a couple hundred yards away.
“As long as he keeps that up, catching him will not be a problem,” he thought. Using his ears more than his eyes, he headed in the direction of the noise, his motions in harmony with the woods around him.
Seconds later, the noise ceased, replaced by an eerie quiet. Xandor heaved a resigned sigh. I knew it was too good to last, he thought as he cut through the woods to catch up.
* * *
Cautiously putting distance between himself and the leather-clad warrior, Mladen eased through the dark underbrush. Just as he thought he had lost the ranger for good, the darkness was rent asunder by the warning of a large cat.
Mladen froze. The great cats in these ghostly woods feared nothing and, though typically solitary, were extremely dangerous creatures. Only the Anak’im and their kin walked without concern.
With a fresh dose of adrenaline singing in his veins, Mladen struggled to control his breathing and remain still. He strained his ears for the slightest of sounds. The palms of his hands sweated on the hilts of his cutlasses.
Movement of a large body crackled and rustled in the darkness, but it was too far away to be the cat. Was it the Kral’s ranger?
The cat’s warning came again, giving Mladen a direction and rough distance. A sinister gleam in his eyes, he turned and headed away from the approaching ranger, making a little extra noise to ensure the ranger could hear him, placing the cat directly between them.
* * *
Xandor hastily pressed forward through the darkness, trying to close the distance before the Northman went silent again. He froze when he heard the low warning growl of the great cat less than a dozen yards away; his eyebrows crawled to his hairline in shock at the low-throated, “Keep your distance, San Sebek-wy.”
Not moving a muscle, Xandor struggled to find the talking cat.
“The man-thing you follow is my kill,” the cat said with a low growl.
Without conscious thought, Xandor responded, “No, little sister. He is mine.”
The cat did not respond.
Xandor tensed, expecting the beast to challenge him. Instead, she said, “We hunt together, friend of the Akshan.”
The Akshan.
Relief flooded the ranger at the strange name, but at the same time, his brow furrowed as the memories associated with it surged to the forefront. The great cat waited, its tail flicking with impatience.
Xandor recalled the strange title the felines gave to the one who was both their Lord and Protector. It was also the name of the sentient artifact that had gifted the ranger with the ability to speak with felines.
“Yes,” Xandor said. He let the large cat guide him, and the two moved carefully along the path taken by the Northman, low growls and hisses passing between them.
* * *
Disappointed the ranger hadn’t screamed yet, Mladen stopped briefly and looked behind him, listening. What was the ranger doing?
The uncertainty gnawed at him and, with it, an idea of what he could do to tip the odds in his favor. It did not take long to find what he needed, despite the weak light from above. He felt a surge of self-satisfaction as he covered the ground with a scattering of leaves. Afterward, he doubled back a little ways and left a trail, something he was sure the ranger could follow.
* * *
The moon was only three nights past new, and the thin sliver made Xandor thankful the cat found hunting one human with another to be…fun. Without her eyesight and keen nose, he would never have been able to follow his quarry.
Unfortunately, she did not know how to identify traps. Xandor bit back a curse when the vine grabbed his ankle and whipped forward, yanking his leg with it.
Breaking partway through the arc, the field expedient trap turned Xandor from a captive into a projectile. He hurtled into a tangle of brittle tree branches, which burst with a terrific noise and dropped him to the ground amid a shower of splinters. The ranger came to rest at the base of the tree, stunned and in pain. Before he could shake it off, the cat bounded up and nosed his side. “Do you live, San Sebek-wy?”
* * *
A wicked grin split Mladen’s face when he heard the sound of the tree whipping upright. He froze and strained his hearing, certain he heard a muffled curse followed by sharp cracks and a dull thud. He felt much better about things now. Listening for a moment more, he hurried onward, his own path laid out in his mind.
* * *
Sitting with his back to a tree, Chert heard the great cat’s roar. “Hope that beasty finds its dinner elsewhere.”
He plucked at his ruined vambrace with a pair of pliers and pried the jagged pieces of metal out of his arm. Blood dripped freely and felt warm and sticky inside his armor. Beside him lay the discarded tip of the Anak’im’s spike. When he pulled out the last piece, he rotated his arm and worked the buckles loose, letting the vambrace fall to the ground.
Pulling up his chain sleeve, he examined several deep, jagged wounds in his forearm. He dug his fingers into the soil and grabbed a handful. Rubbing the earth into his wounds, he mixed it with his blood and whispered a healing prayer. Blue light illuminated his arm and slowly the wounds closed, leaving thin, white scars.
Chert spent the next few minutes healing his other wounds. Once finished, he stretched his arm and tested the muscles. Feeling sore but otherwise unhurt, he stood and checked on the horses.
Xerxes was missing.
Thankfully, Sky was still near the road where they had left her; however, he had no idea where the stallion would have gone, but he was betting it involved trouble—like rider, like horse. Chert
patted the pony on the nose, surreptitiously glancing around to see if anyone saw.
Searching the battleground for anything useful, Chert found his mangled shield still impaled on the Anak’im’s spiked club and took a few minutes to dislodge it. Next, he crossed the road and retrieved the Northman’s bow and several of his arrows. After a moment’s thought, he set his load down and pulled out his knife to make a few modifications to the bow. With a grin hidden beneath his beard, he left the bow and a couple of arrows randomly scattered where Xandor and the Northman had fought earlier.
Chert went back to Sky and was startled to find not only her, but also Xerxes and another horse. He blinked in surprise, and his mouth worked silently for a minute. Finally, he spluttered at the two larger animals, “Where did you go . . . and where did you come from?”
Six large eyes just stared at him.
“All right, be that way,” Chert grumbled. Then it came to him; he wagged a finger at the charger. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? You brought back the Northman’s horse.”
* * *
Xandor hated their slow pace, but he had to keep a wary eye out for more traps. Of course, the Northman had to slow to set them, so it was a trade-off of sorts. The gamble, naturally, was whether he had set any others.
Fifteen minutes of slow movement got tiring. Xandor gently stepped down on the ball of his foot, carefully putting weight on it to avoid breaking anything underfoot.
“We hunt a hunter, San Sebek-wy,” the large cat growled.
“He’s dangerous prey, but fighting is not his preferred way; he likes to ambush. Or set traps…” Xandor closed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. He oriented himself to the path he and the cat were following—the Northman was circling!
“He’s going back to the road! Come, let’s surprise him.”
* * *
Hidden behind a large tree trunk, Mladen eyed the dwarf rummaging through one of his saddlebags. Nearby, he saw his bow and a couple arrows at the edge of the lit zone. Easing down onto all fours, he carefully crept through the woods, staying low and moving as quietly as possible. Reaching out, he silently picked up the bow and both arrows and brought them back toward the safety of the darkness.
* * *
Watching Mladen, the cat tensed, preparing to charge, but Xandor put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” he hissed. “My friend is not that careless. Let’s see what happens.”
Flicking her tail in irritation, the cat fixed her attention on the crawling Northman. They stayed just outside the light and watched as Chert picked at the things in the bag. Behind the dwarf, the Northman slowly raised himself to a kneeling position.
* * *
Mladen nocked an arrow and pulled his bowstring back, sighting on the dwarf’s back. When the string became taut, his humor turned to horror as it snapped with a loud twang. The dwarf whipped around.
Chert tossed a glowing stone in his left hand toward the noise, took a single step, and hurled the hammer in his right. He had expected a taller target.
* * *
The Northman threw himself to the side, barely avoiding what could have been a fatal strike. Still, the hammer landed a glancing blow to his shoulder and flipped him over backward. He was on his feet in an instant. Drawing his cutlasses, Mladen snarled, only to find the dwarf waiting for him, the hammer already back in his hands.
Erupting from the edge of the underbrush only yards away, the buzzsaw roar of a feline challenge mingled with a barbaric war cry split the night as both Parlathean lion and leather-clad ranger charged toward the surprised Northman.
Chert and Mladen both gaped at the sight. Mladen recovered first and turned to flee into the darkness but his flight was cut short as the snarling cat swatted his feet out from under him. The Northman hit the ground hard.
Rolling to the side, he came to his feet as quickly as he could, one leg burning as though on fire. He whipped both cutlasses up in a desperate attempt to parry the ranger’s incoming attacks. The intricate web of blades mostly succeeded, but one of the ranger’s blades snuck through, leaving a small current of blood running down the Northman’s left arm.
Even as he fought the ranger, Mladen’s mind gibbered frantically as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened. The cat and the ranger were hunting together, and they were hunting him! He swept his blades in short, sharp arcs, trying to put some distance between him and his attackers while panic reigned in his mind. Who was this ranger? What was this ranger?
Igniting his blades, Xandor blocked the short swipes and stabbed low with his left blade, slicing the Northman’s right thigh open with an audible hiss. However, he caught a short score on his own left bicep in return.
The ranger danced back and settled for blocking any swipes that came close enough to threaten him. He made a few probing attacks but mostly waited for the Northman’s energy to bleed off.
Circling behind the Northman, the cat contented herself with keeping her new brother’s prey from fleeing into the night and watched them battle with their steel fangs.
* * *
Feeling the cat’s stare behind him, Mladen’s eyes widened with the realization the ranger must be one of the Neuri. That explained how he survived the bunker and how he hunted with a cat. Rather than comfort him, the explanation only fed the growing knot of fear inside him. He had never seen a Neuri before, but he had heard tales of the shape-shifters. They were rumored to be amongst the most cruel and vicious hunters known.
Outnumbered and out of his league, Mladen sought an escape route. Any path out of this nightmare would do. His frenetic attacks clashed again and again against the ranger’s defenses, his fear feeding every strike.
* * *
They traded more blows and with each riposte, the Northman’s swings became wilder. Taking advantage, Xandor swept both blades around in a low-to-high arc from the left. He beat aside the Northman’s blades with his right blade and opened a deep gash in his ribs with his left. Blood steamed as it poured from the wound.
Twisting violently, Mladen caught Xandor by surprise, and before the ranger could bring his fast-moving blades back to a guard position, the berserk Northman charged. Screaming, Mladen plowed a shoulder into the ranger’s chest, driving him to the ground.
Not looking back, Mladen sprang for the darkness of the woods. Xandor shot back to his feet and raced after him, his passage marked by the glowing trail of his burning blades. Behind him sped the large cat.
Chert’s eyes grew wide at the hungry look the cat bestowed on him before chasing after the two men. He continued to stare in their direction for several moments. Then he shook himself, closed his mouth, and turned back to find Xerxes watching him.
“That is the strangest human I have ever met,” Chert said to the horse.
* * *
Mladen crashed to a stop at the edge of a thicket and turned, vainly searching for salvation. His eyes fell on the ranger charging toward him, swords aglow with a hellish light, and he let out a blood-curdling shriek.
* * *
Xandor saw the glint of the Northman’s blades as they rose to intercept his charge. The ranger pulled back, but his feet slid on the layer of twigs and broken branches carpeting the forest. He dropped to his back, barely holding onto his blades as his boots impacted his opponent’s stomach. Mladen turned with the blow and ran off amid a spray of bone-white needles.
* * *
Dodging between the close-growing trees, Xandor resumed his chase. This has gone on too long, he thought. From behind him, he heard the growls of the lioness, who passed him as if he were standing still.
A moment later, a bloodcurdling growl erupted near Mladen. The Northman dodged away from it and continued his race deeper into the wood, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“San Sebek-wy, you will find him in the ravine,” Xandor heard as he passed the cat’s position.
* * *
Hooking an arm around a slender tree, Mladen caught himself at the edge of the rock cl
iff. There was a sickening moment when his lower body flew out over the edge; his stomach fell back into place when his feet touched ground again.
A wide chasm spread out before the Northman, barely lit by the thumbnail moon. Knowing there was no other choice, he hastily picked his way down the face, ignoring the trail of blood he left.
* * *
Xandor stopped at the edge of the ravine. A bloody handprint marked where Mladen had started his descent.
Extinguishing his blades, he leaned over and used the thin trickle of moonlight to watch his foe. He straightened and took several steps back while centering his mind for more combat. He took a deep breath, sprinted for the edge, and leapt out as far as he could.
* * *
Mladen looked up from the base of the cliff, expecting to see the ranger clambering down behind him, or at least the glow of his burning blades. Nothing. All he heard was a soft sound at the edge—a footfall, perhaps? Holding his breath, he listened for more sounds while staring into the darkness at the rim of the hollow. The moonlight teased him with glimpses of trees, roots, and brush. The silence deafened.
His only warning before the darkness exploded with flaming light was the rush of wind above him and a soft thump as the ranger landed next to him. Mladen cursed when he realized he had trapped himself with the Neuri. He snarled and attacked. Desperation ruled—if he could just escape! Deep down, some part of him knew the ranger would not allow that.
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