by Heath Pfaff
My course, though generally aimed southward, meandered and turned as I struggled to make a good pace across the confusing, snow-covered terrain. An endless field of white, broken only by trees and the occasional rock, stretched out before me, a labyrinth of complexity unparalleled by anything man-made. Every mile of travel looked exactly like the previous. I was not an experienced traveler, and had little skill in identifying landmarks, if there had been landmarks to identify. I became increasingly concerned as the hours passed and the sky began to darken with steadily growing cloud cover. I ate my midday meal on the move, but by the time I had finished, the snow had started falling again, and was growing faster and heavier with every passing minute. The world around me slowly began to vanish into streams of motion that made progress difficult, but I did not allow myself to stop. Whatever had happened to Silent and Weaver in the night, I did not wish the same to happen to me. I supposed some would prefer a quick death in their sleep to the waking knowledge of their own impending doom, but I was not one of those people.
My cloak kept the cold from seeping into my body and also kept off the dampness, but my boots - though treated for bad weather and of superior crafting - did not have the same magical properties that the fabric of my cloak did, and my feet were growing cold, though not yet damp. I was thankful for that latter, as wetness would have only compounded the cold. The snow, already nearly to my waist, was climbing slowly higher as the fury of the storm grew, and that made the footing treacherous. More than once I placed my foot on what I assumed was solid ground, only to find there was a hole hidden beneath the snow. So far south there were no roads, and very few paths that were anything more than game trails. As lost as I was, I doubted that I was near any such trail, and so trudged my way across the uneven ground that made up the wilderness of the deep southlands without the ability to see where I would place my next footfall.
A howl sounded from behind me, far nearer than any of the times I'd heard it previously, and I knew that the Fell Beast was drawing closer. The game of the hunt was nearing its conclusion, my time dwindling fast. My hand was still clenched about my sword hilt, and though I had drawn it back under my cloak to stop my fingers from freezing, I removed it from the warmth of its coverings. I would need it soon, and it would serve me best if it were ready to be used. I looked behind me as I kept moving southward, noting that even the trail I'd carved through the snow was already filling in. The churning snow obscured any details past a few feet in my wake, but I could see something in the snow, directly behind me, no more than twenty feet away. It was large, and hunched over it still stood taller than myself. I could make out little of its actual form, but it moved in a manner far different from the falling snow, and so stood out clearly to my motion-sensitive eyes, a massive shape amidst the flutter of ethereal ice flakes.
"If you want me beast, come now. I'm tired of your games. Let me kill you now and we'll be done with this." I shouted into the bluster of the wind, a bluster of my own fury, a last ditch effort to intimidate the monstrosity that pursued me. It didn't work - the dark shape amidst the snow began to move towards me. It is impossible to control fear, but it is possible to control the effect fear has on one's body. I had to summon my utmost control as the Fell Beast, a demon not fit for our world at all, stalked through the snow toward me. As it came nearer, the snow abated just long enough for me to get my first clear glimpse of the horrible beast. The creature stood a foot taller than myself, and was clad in thick fur of the deepest black, though banded at the wrists, the tips of its ears, and its throat in a brilliant red that I could hardly believe was naturally occurring. Its long, dexterous hands ended in obsidian claws that looked as sharp, or sharper, than the sword I held in defense. It stood on two massively powerful legs, though they were mostly obscured in the thick snow. Its head was like that of a wolf, but larger, and with eyes that shone black even in the darkness of the storm. The maw of the creature was larger than any wolf's I'd ever seen, and adorned with long teeth, obviously designed for tearing. It looked lean and fierce, every inch a primal killer. I could see the muscles rippling beneath its coat of fur as it took each slow, measured step towards me. Though it walked on two feet, I could see that its body would easily allow it to fall forward to run on all fours. It didn't do that now, though. It stalked in on its hind legs, looking like a demonic caricature of man and wolf.
I leveled my sword at the thing's throat and prepared for an attack. The snow blew up again, and for a moment I lost sight of the beast entirely. That almost cost me my life. When next I saw the demonic wolf-creature, it was only a few feet from me, one of its clawed arms ripping through the air with the intent of taking out my throat. The only thing that saved me was my well-practiced ability to slow my perception of time. It switched on automatically as the threat made itself evident. The strike was still coming fast, far too fast for me to move my sword to intercept, so I dropped backward instead, letting inertia do what reflexes were unable to. The claw barely cleared the top of my cloak, and the creature's other arm was already moving to follow through with a second stroke. I twisted my body in my downward plunge and forced my arm out to connect with the ground and turn my momentum. In order to do this, I had to push myself all the way to my body's limits, and I felt pain ring upwards through my arms as I connected with the ground and twisted myself into position to meet the creature's second blow. I could force my body to do what was necessary, but it didn't have to like it. My sword came up into position just in time to meet the rush of the creature's clawed strike but I was ill-prepared for the force of the blow, and still off balance, only half way to my feet. I let the beast's claws fall flat across the edge of my blade, expecting to cause some damage, but instead there was a tremendous transfer of force and my sword was pushed back into me, only just hitting on the blunt side rather than the terrible, razor-honed blade. I felt my feet being lifted from the ground, and though I'd managed to stop myself from being torn apart, the blow was still so powerful that it threw me through the air. I gasped out a breath of air and the world resumed its normal pace, plummeting me back into the carpet of white in an instant. Sweat was beading on my brow, brought on by my physical exertion and the warping of perceived time, which was a strenuous in itself. I barely managed to keep my footing in the rough landing. As soon as I was balanced I again forced myself back into the slowed perception of time. I knew that without that advantage, I would surely be dead.
The monster had followed me almost as fast as I had fallen, and as time slowed, and the chaos of falling snow dissipated into the eerie dance of the world at a near standstill, I could see its terrible teeth reaching out to grab my arm. I yanked the arm away as fast as I dared do so, and its teeth caught my sword instead. I attempted to tear the sword free, hoping to cause some damage in the process, but the Fell Beast's teeth were more powerful than any blacksmith's vice and I couldn't recover my blade from those locked jaws. In the meantime, as I struggled to free my weapon, the creature's forward motion carried it into me, driving us both into the deep snow. There was white everywhere, and I was trapped in its consuming darkness, just myself and the thrashing monster above me. I used all my considerable muscle to heave at my sword, but was only rewarded with the terrible shaking of the creature's jaws as it attempted to pull my weapon away from me. The blade hilt, wet from the snow, slipped through my fingers with surprising ease. I kicked up with my right leg as hard as I could and scored a hit between the creature's legs. I knew little of Fell Beasts, but if the one attacking me was male, and if it had anything like familiar anatomy, I was staking my hopes that it would find such an attack quite off-putting. It was a desperate move, but it was all I had left in the position I was in.
There was a fearsome yelp of pain and suddenly the pressure was gone from my chest. I struggled to my feet, knowing the beast would not remain gone long. I fumbled through the snow in search of my weapon, my hope draining away with every fragment of a second it took to find it, but my hand brushed cold metal in short order a
nd I let myself breathe a sigh of relief. I recovered my sword and stood up, ready to fight once more. The beast was not far away. It stood maybe five feet apart from me, its face contorted into a fearsome snarl of rage, barely visible between gusts of snow. One of its claws was dripping, and I briefly thought I might have injured the beast with my sword when I blocked its blow at the beginning of our fight. I realized, only a second later, that it was I who was injured. There was a terrible pain stemming from my lower abdomen, and I realized with alarm that the demon of a beast had torn through my cloak and into my flesh at some point while we fought in the snow. My ability to heal was working on the injury, but it was no minor cut, and the healing would take time. I didn't have time. If I did not win out in the next pass, my time would be up. I wasn't being pessimistic - I simply knew that the creature was too powerful, and too well adapted to its environment for me to last more than one more encounter. Another injury would weaken me further, and I could ill afford that. Already my body was burning with its efforts to both heal my wounds and maintain my control in slow time.
I brought my sword up in front of me and readied myself for the final pass. There was a flash, and I pushed my perception back into my only advantage. The beast was ripping through the snow, kicking up a torrent of powder in its wake and coming at me with such speed as I'd only ever seen the Knights of Ethan use. I knew my body didn't want to move fast enough to do what was necessary to stop the Fell Beast from killing me, but I also knew that it would have to or nothing I had been through would matter to anyone. I concentrated all my will into my arms and forced them to push past their limits. Within the crawling frame of time I heard a roaring crack as the bones in my arms shattered with the force and speed of my motion to bring my sword into position. I leveled the point at my enemy and used everything else I had to stab forward. The beast apparently could move fast, but couldn't see things the way I did, because it charged head-long into my weapon, not expecting me to have been able to ready the blade in time to do what was necessary. I did it though, the effort costing me dearly. The bones in my hands and arms shattered as though struck by a hammer, and the muscles and ligaments holding everything together tore to shreds. If not for the force of the initial exertion, and the momentum of the beast, my blow would have had nothing solid behind it, for my arms were destroyed. The strike, however, was true, and the blade split the monster's skull in half and it fell dead, tumbling through the snow and knocking me from my feet in the process. The world lurched back into normal time.
My sword flew from my shattered hands and fell into the snow some feet away, and I collapsed back into the snow, the velocity of my enemy carrying us both backward into the world of whiteness. I couldn't move because all of my energy was expended, and I couldn't begin to remove the dead creature from where it lay on top of me. My arms were useless wells of terrible pain, doing nothing more than throbbing in fearsome, angry protestation at the damage I had wrought upon them. I screamed a cry of pure agony into the night, certain no one would hear me, but equally certain I couldn't possibly keep all the pain inside. I wanted to black out, but my new body was better than that. It wouldn't let me lose consciousness while I was still suffering and in such a precarious situation. I lay for what seemed like forever, hoping the pain might stop sometime soon, but knowing that it would not. The damage I had done might take days to repair. I had broken bones in practice, and they'd healed in a few hours, but I had never so thoroughly destroyed part of my body before. I wasn't even certain the damage could be repaired entirely.
I must have lain in the snow for nearly two hours before I first heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the soft packed field of white. At first I panicked, fearful that another beast was coming, but the notion only bothered me initially. I was hurt, alone, and buried in the snow. I was going to die whether some monster killed me or not, and at that moment in time I didn't care how I met my end, so long as there was an end. Thoughts of dying soon fled, though, when I heard muffled voices from beyond the dome of snow that had formed over me and the dead Fell Beast.
"Hello!" I called out, and found my voice stronger then I'd thought it would be, perhaps invigorated by the prospect of rescue, or perhaps only loud because of the closeness of the snow around me. In reply I heard rapid footfalls heading in my direction. A moment later the snow was being cleared off of me and I met the red eyes of Weaver. He looked down at me, and down at the creature lying dead atop me, a smile on his face.
"You did it, Lowin. Silent didn't think you would, but you've done it... and well!" He called to the other, and Silent ran up beside him, a look of relief passing over his features as he saw me alive and aware. "Silent, Look at the markings on this one?" Weaver was saying excitedly. "Do you see them? It's a red stripe. I've never seen one like this before."
Silent smiled down at me. "Congratulations, Lowin. I was worried about you. I certainly didn't believe you were ready when Weaver told me you were, but..." He let his words trail off and I looked up at him in confusion.
"Ready for what? What's going on here" I asked, angry at the two travel companions who had abandoned me in the night, and from what I gathered of what had transpired so far, that is exactly what they had done to me. I was filled with ire and indignation.
"It was time for you..." Silent began, but Weaver cut him off.
"Not quite yet, Silent. He'll know in a few minutes here, help me get this thing off him so we can get started, before it's too late." Weaver's voice grew distant as he went to haul on the end of the creature furthest from me. Silent grabbed the end on my torso, and between the two of them they lifted it away from my body as if it weighed nothing at all. I heard the sound of chopping, swords piercing flesh, and I wondered why they were dismembering the monster's corpse. Were they going to eat it?
There were a few minutes of quiet, and a moment later I heard Weaver say. "Alright, I've got everything ready that we'll need."
Silent's voice followed. "I suppose you want me to hold him?"
"Of course, first get his cloak off." Came the answer.
Silent reappeared above me, and I eyed him suspiciously. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "What are you two going to do?" I asked him, doing my best to try and move from where I was laying in the snow. My legs were numb from having the beast on them, but they moved, so I began pushing myself away from the two travel companions that I suddenly distrusted. They had abandoned me, and now they were back for some other mischief. My arms were useless, and my stomach still hadn't healed, probably the result of my body's healing abilities being pushed to their limits by my exertions and the damage to my arms. Silent quickly pulled my cloak from me, easily handling me in my weakened state. When he had finished removing my shifting cloak, and I lay in the cold snow, he straddled my body and then sat across my torso, pinning me down with his powerful arms. It was at that point that I really noticed the arms holding me down for the first time, the heavy black fur, and long, articulate digits ending in razor claws. The realization struck me all at once, coming together from all that I had witnessed. I remembered the blistering speed at which the Fell Beast had moved, and the way it was able to turn aside a sword strike with its claws without taking a cut, and even the feel of its fur against me as we battled. It had been familiar, but I had not seen it, or not wanted to see it. Before I had any further time to consider, Weaver was standing over me with his sword drawn, the blade still red from its previous use on the beast.
"I'll not lie to you, Lowin. This is going to feel terrible, but when it's all done, and you've had four or five days to recover, you'll be a new man... again." The red-eyed warrior said, and, after considering, he added, "Try not to move." He lifted his sword arm, and in a flash I felt pain tear through first one, then other of my shoulders. I couldn't help but scream out and convulse at the terrible sundering. I felt Silent pushing down harder on my torso, restraining me. Weaver moved quickly, using the full extent of his speed to do the work he intended. He flashed away, and returned with first one arm
, and then another, carefully stitching the flesh of the Fell Beast to my own body. "I've done this many times, boy, don't worry. Your body will fix things up just the way they need to be. Stay calm, breathe deep." He said as he worked, but it was hard to stay calm as the lifeless lumps of flesh were attached in place of my arms. Once he was done with the arms, he and Silent shifted positions, and I knew what was to come next.
"This will hurt worse, and you may black out from blood loss." I heard Weaver say. There was a blur of motion, though I couldn't see what he was doing anymore, and my perfectly good legs were sheered away from my body and tossed aside. I did black out then, but only for a short time. When I came to, Weaver was staring at me, his eyes locked on mine. He had a knife in one hand. I tried to flinch away, but his weight was holding me down.
"Do you think he can handle those too? Most can't." I heard Silent ask, a note of worry in his voice.
Weaver smiled down at me. "This one can handle a lot more than this. He's got something special in him." He said to Silent, and then to me he added. "You're not going to like this one at all, and it's probably going to hurt much worse than your legs did. We won't be able to talk for a few days, so before you black out, I want you to know that everything is going to be alright. You'll pull through strong, and then we can talk about your future."