by Dan Decker
The other had no such hesitation. “Why would we do that?”
Karn frowned, apparently not used to justifying his orders. “Go, now.” The night was frigid, but Karn’s voice was colder, threatening harm for non-compliance. It was a tone Jorad hadn’t before heard from the man, but it wasn’t surprising. Jorad had always been able to tell Karn had an undercurrent that Jorad didn’t want to mess with, he had been on the verge of demanding an explanation from Karn but decided to hold off.
The first man put his hand on the shoulder of the second, saying something Jorad couldn’t make out. The second shook his head, muttering as he disappeared into the dark. The first went in the opposite direction.
The refugees had watched the exchange with increasing alarm and were becoming more vocal. It hadn’t helped that several had noticed Jorad pointing his blaster at the sky. They knew all too well the harm that came from above.
“We can’t put out the fire!” a spindly old man near the front cried out. “People are going to die.”
“My baby needs that fire,” said a woman with a small child held to her chest. They had thick coats and were better off than most. The boy struggled to free himself from her grip, but despite being a thin woman, she managed to retain a fast hold on the kid, though it was like she struggled with a feral cat.
Cursing, Karn pushed his way through the crowd to the flames. “Water. Dirt. I need them both now.”
Nobody volunteered, more were now looking nervously at the sky.
Jorad made his way to the fire, being gentler than Karn had been, but not by much. Karn must have found Hunwei. If he would just give that as a reason, people would act on his orders.
Karn had just sent several women in search of buckets when Jorad reached him and put a hand on his arm. The large man jumped and looked about to yell until he saw it was Jorad.
“What’s going on, Karn?” Jorad kept his voice neutral, concerned Karn would misread any emotion, he didn’t want to put the man on guard.
“This fire needs to die. Now.” Karn’s face was pale, that was alarming in and of itself. Even while dealing with Hunwei, Jorad had never seen Karn so scared. Had the man cracked? “Those who can, throw dirt into the flames.” He shook his head. “I never should have let the fires be so big.” This last part was said more to himself.
Hoping it would help the situation, Jorad added his words to Karn’s. “You heard the man. Everybody move. We must put it out. If you have something that will carry water, run to the stream. If not, throw on dirt, as much as you can.”
Jorad wasn’t about to hang the blaster back over his shoulder, so he scraped up a pile of dirt as best he could with his boot. It was tough work as the ground was hard and rocky, but Karn was doing the same thing, a wild look on his face.
A woman ran up with a pail of water, the contents sloshing out as she did. She was pale, looking every which way, and tripped. It looked like she and the pail were about to go over, but she managed to recover at the last moment, only spilling a little. Karn snatched the bucket, throwing her off balance again, and dumped it on the flames. Steam and smoke spewed, but the water doused less than half of the fire. Karn grabbed a stick somebody had been using to stoke the fire and started to work on the coals.
Jorad spoke through clenched teeth as he kicked on more dirt, using the most authoritative voice he could muster in a whisper. “I need an explanation, Karn. Now.” The man was becoming worse by the moment.
It was a risk to speak like that to Karn, but the man was scaring everybody. Jorad needed to know what was going on if he were going to manage the situation.
“Clinchers.” Karn must have thought he’d spoken quietly, but everybody in the little clearing heard it.
“But those aren’t real,” muttered a man beside Jorad, his teeth chattering. “Are they?”
Licking his lips, Jorad looked to the sky for an entirely different reason. Although most believed them to be a myth they were indeed real, though he’d never come across them himself.
Winged wolves were how Jorad had heard them described, but Adar had said that wasn’t accurate. The snouts were too long to be a wolf. Their ears were more reminiscent of a bat than anything else.
But clinchers were found hundreds of miles to the north, favoring the colder climates. What had brought them here? If Jorad had even suspected clinchers were in the area, he wouldn’t have wondered why Karn had done the things he’d done.
He now understood why the fires had been kept small and spaced so far apart. Like moths, clinchers were attracted to flames. Nobody knew why. Jorad looked to the sky, wondering if he’d see telltale signs of their batlike wings.
It was still. For now.
“Everybody move to the trees,” Jorad ordered, speaking as loudly as he dared. Clinchers had excellent hearing. He grabbed a young man and pointed in the direction of the other fires. “Make sure they all hide in the forest. If they complain, tell them clinchers are circling above us.” The kid was six inches shorter than Jorad but looked old enough that he was probably done growing. Jorad repeated his instructions to a lanky fellow who reminded him of a man he’d nearly killed back in Neberan. It seemed a lifetime ago even though it had not yet been a month. He sent that man in the other direction.
By the time they both had gone, most were moving. Jorad went to the woman with the struggling boy.
“Move, move!” he whispered urgently, while the kid struggled to be free of this mother.
“Easier said,” she said, grunting while heading towards the forest, each step a struggle. Jorad watched as the woman went, wishing he could think of something more to do for her.
He pointed his blaster at the sky and scanned the tree line. Adar had said clinchers liked to hide in the tops of trees, waiting to dive down from above. Jorad looked for an unusual shape in the decreasing light but couldn’t make out anything that was cause for alarm.
Stepping away from the chaos of the fire, he cupped a hand to one ear, listening for the sound of wings. They could move without making noise when they wanted, but the time Adar had encountered one, he’d heard rushing wind just beforehand.
The wind picked up, and Jorad spun with his finger on the trigger of the blaster and his hand on the button in the front.
After the gust, it was still. Jorad was relieved to see that other than Karn and a handful of stragglers, most everybody had disappeared.
“Karn,” he said. “Let this burn out on its—”
The other woman came up with a second water bucket that Karn tore out of her hands.
“Melyah!” he swore while dumping it on the flames. More smoke and steam went into the sky, but the rest of the flames were doused. Coals glowed through it all, casting Karn and the woman in dark shadow. Jorad’s eyes were drawn to them, which was why he didn’t see it coming.
The clincher came like a bird of prey dropping from the sky. One moment it was still. Quiet.
The next, chaos.
The woman was tossed away like a child throwing a toy.
Jorad brought up his blaster and fired, his eyes still adjusting to the low level of light. The only thing he could see were the red eyes of the beast and the teeth as they snapped open and shut.
His blast went high and disappeared into the forest, fearing it was headed towards another group of refugees, he hesitated to fire again as the beast spun out of the way.
The giant batlike wings continued to beat, bringing with it the stink of rotting flesh. The animal’s forearms grabbed a man, ripping him in half. The beast took a bite as it tossed away the pieces and reached for another. It cocked back its head and let out a howl, deeper than a wolf and longer. It was said the clincher’s scream could paralyze a man.
Jorad realized that he had frozen, but it wasn’t because of the menacing sound. He’d been looking for a clean shot, afraid he’d miss again or that the blast would go right through the beast and kill people on the other side.
As the clincher ripped apart a woman, pausing only to snap
a bite of entrails before tossing her aside the way a dog might a well-chewed bone, he realized that even if others died in the blast, that might be the best scenario possible.
He might not have another choice.
Jorad fired again, the blast going through the space the clincher had been moments before. He ran forward while trying to not think about what had been behind the massive creature. If he closed the distance, he maximized the chances of bringing it down.
Another flash of light lit up the campground. It was Karn with his blaster. Jorad let out a holler of triumph before realizing the shot had only gone through the beast’s wing.
The massive beast let out a roar that shook the ground, its massive jaws wide as it charged Karn while Jorad took aim and fired.
His shot went through the same wing but at an angle, clipping the furry back of the creature and burning flesh and bone as it went.
The clincher let out a gut-wrenching howl as it lost its balance, flipping over onto its head and rolling through the remains of the fire. Coals, ash, and burning logs flew everywhere as the creature came to a halt.
It whimpered, but Jorad felt no emotion as he leveled the blaster, aiming for the middle of the chest and fired again. The blast buried itself, glowing red as it dug deep into the creature’s chest and shot out the other side.
With a final high-pitched scream, it lost control of its massive head. Its wings still flopped, and its talons moved, but it was in the last throes of life.
Even after it stopped moving, Jorad warily kept his distance, not trusting that it was dead. Clinchers were cunning beasts. He was tempted to put another shot through the creature’s head, but it seemed unnecessary.
He spun while examining the sky, looking for more.
Where’s Karn? Jorad wondered. Karn had been in the clincher’s path when it had charged. Jorad had been so focused on firing his blaster that he hadn’t seen if Karn had moved in time to escape the beast. If I find him dead with a blast to the chest—
He refused to finish the thought.
As the seconds ticked by and the beast still hadn’t moved, he took several steps forward, looking for any sign it might still be alive. A twitch. A growl. A whimper. He listened for breathing, thinking that if he heard the slightest hiss, he would send another blast into its massive body.
He also listened for the wounded. There would be no helping the people the clincher had ripped apart, but there would be others. He tried to remember how many people had been doddling by the fire when the attack had begun. Five? Six?
It was far better than the thirty who had been there minutes before, but he hated for people to have survived the Hunwei’s invasion of Zecarani only to die before getting to Rarbon.
He shouldered his blaster and removed his sword from the sheath on his back. It made a soft ringing sound as he did. Typically, it gave him comfort, but he felt none now. Before the Hunwei had come, it had always felt good to have a sword in hand, but he’d had too many firsthand experiences with the Hunwei to think that way any longer.
Luckily, he’d never heard anything about clinchers having an invisible shield of protection.
He stepped forward, intending to remove the creature’s head. As he lifted his sword, his shoulder twinged and his back burned. He suppressed a flash of irritation while ignoring both, never taking his eyes from the clincher. Now that he saw one first hand, he disagreed with those who claimed it resembled a wolf. Even with just the moonlight that was obvious.
Its teeth and ears were the only things that made it look canine. The head was too square, the massive jaw too long. Most of the creature was covered with fur, but that ended at the neck, revealing black scaly skin.
When Jorad saw a nostril flare, he was too close to move back. The clincher’s head snapped up, teeth gaping.
He moved swiftly, glad Adar had ingrained in him years of training. He moved without thinking. The blade went through the bare neck, parting skin, flesh, and bone with one chop. His shoulder screamed, and he was unable to keep his sword from digging into the dirt. The clincher’s tongue folded out of its mouth while its head flopped to the ground.
It was finally dead, and he took a moment to breathe before pulling up his sword. He cringed as he did, hoping it hadn’t been chipped by a hidden rock.
Jorad had thought the creature was already lying down, but as the body sagged, he realized it had still been on its feet in a crouching position.
Perspiration burst out on his head as his stomach churned.
I’m a fool.
It would have been better to use the blaster. He shouldn’t have risked approaching until he knew for certain it was dead. The creature had been ready to jump on him, he couldn’t tell with just the moonlight if that would have been possible. He suspected his last shot through the chest had made it incapable of flying, but he still shouldn’t have taken the risk.
Not with everything else going on. Too many depended on him. The whole of Rarbon, and any who’d benefit from having the portal opened.
Kivin. Noal. Soret.
The thought of her cut through him as equally as the cold wind did through his coat. He shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. In fact, the frigid temperature was welcome as he dealt with the fact he’d been one misstep away from death.
I can’t be so cavalier, he thought. I’m the only one capable of getting into the Rarbon Portal. If I get killed…
He didn’t finish the thought. He would be more careful. The burden on his shoulders was larger than most.
After scanning the sky to make sure another winged menace wasn’t about to plunge down after the first, he checked the body of the creature one more time before looking for Karn.
He’d cut off the clincher’s head and knew it wouldn’t move again, but he still couldn’t stop checking.
“Karn? You okay?” Jorad was afraid he’d find the man among the torn bodies. He spoke louder, hoping the danger had passed. “Karn?”
As he moved away from the clincher, he noticed that the clearing was empty, except for a figure standing just outside the tree line. By height alone, Jorad knew it wasn’t Karn. He recognized Tere when he saw the blaster on the man’s back.
Tere stood with arms folded as if he’d watched events play out without lifting a finger to help. Jorad suppressed a growl. It was no accident Tere’s posture mimicked Jorad’s during their earlier conversation. And Adar’s back in Neberan when Tere had been ready to go for his sword.
How could Tere have done nothing? He could have saved a life or two. Maybe even Karn’s…
Jorad put the miserable man from his mind as he looked for the remains of the fire. It wasn’t until he saw a burning coal that he knew he was in the right area.
Karn had put out the fire just before the clincher had attacked. Judging by the coal’s position to the tree line, Jorad was reasonably confident he was in the place the fire had been. There wasn’t anybody nearby.
He moved in a growing circle out from the fire, afraid as he widened his search that he would learn Karn had been killed.
Jorad’s ears reddened when he thought of how he’d assumed leadership over the refugees. Karn had given him several long-suffering looks that Jorad now only recognized in retrospect. Had he actually tried to tell Karn what to do?
Letting out a long breath, Jorad looked at the clincher’s body. He forced himself to go forward. He would never forgive himself if his blast had killed Karn. He circled around the creature’s body, each step filled with dread. Jorad imagined Xarda’s response. He tried to picture her crying and just couldn’t do it. She seemed the type who never would. He just hoped if Karn had died it wasn’t by his hand. Soret still struggled with what had happened to Gorew and Thon, he could see it every time he looked into her eyes. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to Xarda.
Xarda will want to kill me, Jorad thought, but she won’t because of how important it is that I gain access to the Rarbon Portal.
Relief flooded through him when he got t
o the other side of the creature and saw that the blast had gone harmlessly into the ground. He could see the burn path for ten feet until it had been stopped by a rock. There was an indentation about the depth of Jorad’s pointer finger in the rock face, he was surprised the blast hadn’t gone all the way through the stone.
It was good to know that enough rock would stop a blast, but he wasn’t about to believe that something as wide as his finger was long would do the job. The blast had to have lost some of its power when it had gone through the clincher and dug into the ground.
He exhaled. Xarda couldn’t blame him for what had happened.
“Karn?” His voice seemed unnatural, breaking the silence but he spoke again. “You here?”
Silence descended into the clearing, making Jorad fear the worst. He worked his way in a circle from the clincher corpse, praying he’d find Karn alive.
When he stumbled upon the split body of the woman, he kept from growling aloud by clamping his mouth shut, though the guttural sound resonated inside his chest. It wasn’t fair the woman had survived the Hunwei only to die like this, ripped apart in a moment of savagery nobody had seen coming.
He moved so the moonlight would shine on the woman’s face. She was one of the two who Karn had sent for water. Her heroic effort had put her in the clincher’s path. Karn had been right beside her when it had attacked.
If I’d have acted faster…
He didn’t finish the thought. What could he have done differently? He’d been looking for it and still hadn’t seen the clincher coming. It had fallen like a rock out of the open sky. Karn must have had reason to suspect a clincher was in the area. Why hadn’t he said anything before leaving camp? Had he hoped to spare the people unnecessary fear?
On his next circle out from the clincher, Jorad saw a foot under some brush. It was the right size for a man of Karn’s build. Fearing the worst, he looked underneath, moving branches to get a clear view.
The man opened his eyes and let out a groan. “It scratches, get it away.”
Relief flooded into Jorad when he recognized Karn’s voice.
“Tere, get over here.” Jorad moved more of the branches, trying to figure out if it was safe to move the large man.