by Casey Odell
When she finally squeezed past the slumped creature, she leaned forward, hands on knees, and took a few deep breaths. This is what she had chosen. There was no turning back now.
Another howl cut through the air, bringing her back to the present. She straightened, tensing. That sounded too close. She had only managed to take a few steps when a deep voice blared out from behind her.
“You!”
Claire risked a glance behind her.
Another centaur stood over his fallen comrade, the look on his face none-too-happy.
“You did this!” he bellowed, pointing his spear at her.
Claire gulped as he reared and drew back his arm, aiming. She didn’t have the time to repeat her last attack. No, there was only one option she had: run.
The world slowed around her, the shouting of the beast and her own heartbeat the only things that filled her ears. A cold sweat swept across her body. Her feet felt clumsy and sluggish. She wouldn’t make it in time. She jerked to the side in a last second effort to avoid his attack.
But it wasn’t enough. She felt the impact in her left thigh, the pain engulfing her leg instantly. Claire cried out and crashed to the ground. The spear clattered onto the dirt next to her. She glanced down at her leg to assess the damage. Blood soaked through her pants, wet and dark. It felt worse than it looked. The spear had only grazed the outside of her upper thigh. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it wouldn’t make getting around any easier.
The centaur charged at her, his hoof beats echoing loudly down the alley. Distant shouts joined their comrade’s. Claire tried moving her left leg but winced. She wasn’t going to outrun him in her condition. She reached over and grasped the spear. She’d only have one chance.
When the beast was almost on her, Claire raised the spear, spinning the sharp end around and digging the blunt end into the ground, aiming straight for his chest. The brute tried to stop, but it was too late. His hooves slid on the dirt and the tip of the spear slid easily into his flesh. Claire held the spear steady as the beast flailed, his own weight working against him. Blood dripped down the wooden shaft. She released it before it could stain her hands. The centaur let out a guttural growl and fell limply to the earth with a heavy thud.
Claire backed away, crawling on the ground, dragging her left leg behind her. The sting grew in intensity, making her whole leg pulse. She grit her teeth and slowly got to her feet. She would just have to push through the pain. The distant shouts grew closer. She had to move.
Using the wall for support, she hobbled as quickly as she could to the end of the back alley. Another wide main street stood empty before her. She double checked both ways. It was as clear as it was going to get. She pushed off from the wall and tried her best to jog to the other side, each step with her left leg torturous.
When she was almost to the other side, a deep voice called out from down the street.
“There!”
Followed by the thunderous noise of hooves on dirt. Claire glanced to both sides again. What was once a clear, almost pleasant street, was now darkened by the herd of beasts. A nightmare. She raced to the other side, dipping into another alley, her breath ragged and irregular, the pain almost forgotten in her fear. She turned right and then left again, dashing across another street. If she couldn’t outrun them, perhaps she could lose them, at least for a little bit. But with a herd that size, it was probably just wishful thinking. She was just delaying the inevitable.
Just when she thought she was at her limit, she was grabbed and jerked to the side, down a dim narrow backstreet. She screamed, flailing, as arms encircled her. A hand covered her mouth. This was it, she was caught. She was almost too lost in her grief to hear the words whispered into her ear.
“Shhh, Claire, it’s me.”
She relaxed instantly, her whole body going slack with relief. Farron. His tight grip on her was the only reason she wasn’t sprawled across the ground at the moment. She leaned her head back against his chest and looked up at him. He lowered his hand from her mouth.
“Are you alright?” Concern showed freely on his face.
Claire nodded, lying. She wasn’t in the slightest, but saying so wouldn’t help matters.
The thunderous noise drawing closer broke their too-brief respite.
“This way,” he whispered, releasing her.
With a steadying hand on the side of the building, Claire followed after him to a small door. He pried it open with a dagger. When he looked back at her and noticed she lagged behind, his eyebrows raised, his face paling as he finally took in her appearance and the wound on her leg.
“Haggah,” he breathed. “You’re not fine at all, are you?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it, knowing there was no use in lying anymore. Her appearance had betrayed her.
Farron sighed, sheathed his dagger, and stalked over to her, muttering curses under his breath that she couldn’t understand. He swept her up quickly and dipped into the building. The hallway was dark, and like the rest of the abandoned town, eerily still. The sounds of impending doom didn’t help matters. After a couple of turns, they found themselves in an expansive kitchen. Brick ovens lined an entire wall, and counters and shelves circled the rest of the room, a large table taking up the middle. Two small windows, one in the door and one over the sink, let in the only light. Farron set her down on the edge of the table. Flour still dusted the top.
“That hizeán,” he said, crossing to the door to peer out. After seeing it was clear, for the moment at least, he turned back to her, his anger apparent. “He said he would keep you safe. Where is he?”
“He’s escorting the townspeople, making sure they aren’t attacked while they retreat,” she said, wincing as she adjusted herself. “I am the distraction until he can get back.” The idea had seemed good earlier, even noble, but now she was finding that it wasn’t quite either. Crazy and reckless was more like it.
“Why would he do that?” He looked genuinely confused. “He said–”
“It was my idea,” she said suddenly, then braced for the impact.
He stilled and became quiet.
His face was blank, but she could tell he was seething. Most likely disappointed as well. She would be too if she were in his shoes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She tried moving her left leg. Her breath hitched at the shock of pain. Was it getting worse?
Farron sighed, drawing a small dagger from his right boot and began slashing the apron left hanging on the wall. When it was sufficiently scrapped, he crossed to her and began to wrap it around her wound. “There’s a difference between bravery and recklessness,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand. “And while I think you’ve always been a little of both, lately you’ve become more of the latter. As if you don’t care for your own safety…” His voice drifted off, dripping with sadness, disappointment.
She clenched her right hand and glanced away. It was the truth. Ever since she learned what the mark was doing to her… “You think I’ve given up,” she said softly.
He finished wrapping her leg and tied it off, then put a hand on either side of her on the table, leaning down so his face was even with hers. “Have you?”
“No,” she blurted out, meeting his gaze. She took a breath and released it, looking away again. “Yes… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Is there anything that can be done? I just want to be useful, to make a difference before…”
“You can’t give up yet, Claire,” Farron said. “There has to be a way. We just haven’t found it yet.”
She looked at him again and gave him a meek smile at his encouraging words. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but she wouldn’t be able to get rid of all of her doubt. Not when the mark swallowed her up a little bit more each day.
“That is, if we make it out of our current predicament,” he said, straightening up again and raising an accusative eyebrow at her.
“Are there any others?” she asked him. Though she didn’t thin
k it would necessarily be a good thing if there were. What could a handful of men do against that horde? Not any more than the townspeople could. They would just be slaughtered.
His grim expression told her all she needed to know, and she was both sad and relieved at once. “The captain and his men are guarding the boy at the fortress. They weren’t, in the captain’s own eloquent words, stupid enough to rush headfirst into this mess.”
Claire cocked her head to the side. “And what does that make you?”
“Only slightly less than what it makes you,” he countered.
She just frowned. Well, he did have a point there. The growing chaos outside proved that.
Farron tensed suddenly, his head jerking to the side. He held a hand up as a signal to keep quiet as he listened. “We’re not alone anymore,” he whispered. “Can you walk?”
Claire nodded. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She either moved or became the centaurs’ new plaything. That was one choice that was definitely easy to make. She slid off the table and followed him as he crossed to the door. His footsteps, as always, were unnervingly silent. Especially compared to hers. No wonder he teased her about it.
As quietly as he moved, he drew one of the daggers from his back and sidled up to the door, hand on the knob, ready to turn. He was still for a couple seconds before he burst into action, then everything seemed to happen at once. As soon as he stepped out into the alley, there was the clash of metal, followed by the scuffling sounds of combat. Claire dashed out the opening after him, drawing her own blade, holding it at the ready, totally unprepared for the enemy at hand.
It wasn’t a centaur at all. No, the one that attacked Farron wasn’t a beast but wasn’t any less fearsome. In fact, they shared many similarities with Farron himself.
“An elf…” Claire whispered, dumbfounded. Were the others that the centaurs had spoken of earlier elves? Had they formed a new alliance? It would make sense. After all, the ones with an even bigger grudge against humans, and the ones with the most to gain from using her kind, were the elves. Had the forest king made a deal with the centaurs after Aeron’s failure? Or was this one from a different clan? Claire shook her head. There were more important issues at hand. They could figure out the politics of it all later if they managed to make it out of this mess unscathed.
Dressed all in black like Farron, the foreign elf moved with the same speed and grace, matching each blow with an effortless parry, their movements hard to follow at all. Their attacker’s darker hair was the only way to distinguish them at times. They exchanged a few words in their native tongue, and even though Claire couldn’t understand them, she could tell they weren’t exactly friendly.
A dark flash of movement just beyond the fighting duo caught her attention. Another one.
“Behind you!” she shouted, rushing past them, forming her magic in her hand quickly and launching it at their newest adversary. The second elf dodged it, as she’d expected, but it was enough to draw his attention to her and delay him from helping his comrade. “It’s me you’re after, isn’t it?” She gave him her most intimidating glare, hoping it would strike some fear in him. She would have to ask Marion how she did that…
The elf just looked at her and it took her a moment to realize that he may not be able to understand her at all. Claire sighed and held her dagger up, taking a more battle ready stance. Hopefully, that was something he could understand.
The dark haired elf smirked, taking in every inch of her with an arrogant sneer. He didn’t think much of her. That was fine. Claire thought back to the advice Farron had given her. What she had always thought of as a weakness could turn out to be one of her greatest assets. The elf was too fast and smart to be taken down like the centaurs. No, she had to defeat him another way. She let the fear shine clear on her face, exaggerated the tremors in her arms and legs, trying her best to look the part of a helpless damsel. She let her voice quiver when she spoke, “D-don’t come any closer!”
As planned, the elf did exactly that, stalking toward her, leering.
“I-I said don’t!” She took a tentative step back, but she’d be lying if she said the fear was just all an act. Her plan did have the potential to fail spectacularly, as they had in the past.
“Claire!” Farron shouted, his voice strained.
Claire didn’t spare him a glance, however. She couldn’t afford to. Not with her enemy so close at hand and coming even nearer. Three paces away… two… She would wait until the last possible moment. She slashed out at him with her blade as he reached a hand out to her, deliberately missing. He mustn’t see through her ploy just yet.
“No!” she cried out, slashing again.
The elf caught her by the wrist and twisted it back, her dagger falling useless to the ground. She cried out in pain, twisting her face up in the act. Not that she needed much help for that. The elf’s grip was strong and tight. Forceful. He said some words in his native tongue and glared down at her, his presence looming.
“Claire!” Farron shouted again, this time more desperate. Of course, he didn’t know her plan. She had to end this before she was too much of a distraction for him.
So, she used an old, but reliable move, guaranteed to stun any male, human or elf. She brought her knee up and drove it between her attacker’s legs as hard as she could. The elf grunted, his face reddening, his grip on her wrist weakened. He muttered something she couldn’t understand, cursing her most likely. Seizing the opportunity, she ripped her arm from his hold, and with both hands, grabbed his head, channeling her power into him. The elf screamed and after a few moments, fell limply to the ground, convulsing. Claire just stared at him for a second. That had actually worked.
There was no time for celebration yet. The sound of Farron and the other elf’s fight drew her attention. Why hadn’t he defeated him yet? They were taking too long. The centaurs were almost upon them.
“Hold him still!” she shouted out to him, falling to her knee.
Without hesitating, Farron knocked the other elf’s short sword away and grabbed him by the arms. Claire pushed her magic into the earth. A blunt column shot up under the elf, striking him in the stomach and sent him flying backward. He crashed hard into a wall and slid down to the ground, unmoving, moaning.
“Are you alright?” Farron asked as he approached her, sheathing his dagger.
Claire nodded, standing. She searched the alley for her fallen blade.
“Well done,” he said, bending to pick up her dagger before handing it to her.
She gave him an innocent look. “I was just doing what you taught me.”
He smirked. “Let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her down another alley.
A centaur appeared at the end, halting them in their tracks. More appeared behind the beast. There was no use trying to fight their way through. They were blocked. Quickly, they turned and backtracked. The two elves were gone. For now, at least. Farron pulled Claire the opposite way, checking each intersecting alley, but it was no good. Centaurs blocked all the exits. They were being led, into a trap most likely, but they had no choice. There were just too many of them. Farron turned left down a clear alley, and Claire thought they’d finally had a stroke of luck, until they burst out onto the street surrounded on all sides by the horde of centaurs.
Farron skidded to a stop in the middle of the street, turning back toward the alley they’d just emerged from. But that hope was already dashed. Centaurs were filling it, preventing their escape. Farron slowly turned, eyeing the creatures, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his dagger. Curiously, the beasts kept their distance, forming a ring around them, shouting and raising their weapons above their heads.
“What are they waiting for?” Claire asked, edging closer to Farron.
“I don’t know,” Farron said. “But it can’t be good. We’re far outnumbered. Now would be a good time to call that hizeán back.”
Claire closed her eyes to concentrate, unsure of how exactly to go about doing that. B
ut before she could even try, footsteps broke her focus and the air split with a shrieking roar. Her heart skipped a beat. It was one of those giant beasts. Just what did they have planned?
The centaurs split, forming a path for the creature, prodding it along by jabbing it with their spears and swords. The beast swung out at the centaurs with its giant wooden club, striking a few before continuing on its way. Claire could feel Farron tense next to her. They intended for them to fight it, like some sort of game.
“Fare,” Claire whispered.
“Yes, I know.” His voice remained steady and calm, his expression becoming blank and more focused. “I’ll need your help with this one.” He spared her a glance, a grin breaking his mask.
The small gesture was enough to ease her fear. Even if it was just a little, it was enough. She nodded. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“A mulna,” he said, his eyes fixing on the creature. The ground shook with each step it took.
“Have you ever fought one before?”
“No,” he said bluntly. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one.”
Claire swallowed, her mouth going dry. “Any ideas on how to beat it?”
“They can’t see, but they can hear almost as well as me. That’s about all I know about them. Just try to distract it and, I can’t stress this enough, stay well out of the way.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. Claire backed away slowly as the beast stepped into the clearing. The cheering of the centaurs swelled. Farron circled to the left, nodding for Claire to go right. She followed his instructions, trying her best to keep her footsteps quiet. The beast reached the center of the circle and a hush spread through the horde. It was eerie how quiet it became. The loudest sounds came from the mulna itself. Deep guttural grunts emanated from its unnatural mouth as it turned, its head cocked to the side as it listened.
Claire edged as far away from the creature as she could while still keeping her distance from the centaurs. Then waited, for a signal, an opportunity, she wasn’t sure. Farron slowly drew his dagger as he circled. The creature was oblivious to his presence until a centaur threw a spear in his direction. The spear missed, digging into the ground by his feet, but it did what it was intended to do. The creature roared and swung the massive club. Farron ducked under it, rolling, before getting back to his feet again. The creature raised the club over its head, readying for another strike.