He could no longer see the weapon on the ground where it had landed. Keeping close to the wall he moved around to the side to get a better view of the beast, a combination of relief and fear choking him to see the spear in Neomi’s hand, her lithe figure weaving with incredible agility to duck under the Avaern’s wing to reach the open space in front of it. She wasn’t out of danger yet. The wings had a longer reach than the tail, leaving her vulnerable to another attack if it became aware of her presence on the ground. At the moment it appeared distracted by the Ovatai warriors as Onuric shouted directives, a hard gust of wind nearly knocking Edric off his feet as it shifted toward him. This was Neomi’s chance. The shot was clear. Unobstructed. Making use of the powerful wind she leapt into the air, the height of her jump bolstered by the strength of the energy produced by her fellow warriors. The Avaern reared back as the tip of the blade pierced through its chest, releasing a painful shriek that cut through Edric to the core, causing him to bring his hands up to cover his ears from the sound, crying out in discomfort, his head ringing.
When he finally managed to open his eyes, he felt his breath catch in his throat to see Neomi dangling from the handle protruding from the Avaern’s chest, the force of its writhing body flinging her from one side to the other in attempts to get her away. She held on valiantly, unwilling to give up. He thought she would succeed in standing her ground until a loud snap came from the weapon, the handle breaking under her weight. The sound of her scream was the most terrifying thing Edric had ever heard, watching helplessly as she was flung through the air, her body landing in a heap near Onuric’s men. He could see Onuric rushing toward her, abandoning his post, the warriors looking to him, confused, waiting for his command on what to do.
Taking a breath Edric tried to calm the chaos of his mind, thinking over the options left. The Avaern was still alive. Neomi’s strike had landed but it wasn’t sufficient. The hard skin of the beast required greater force to reach its heart and with the weapon lodged inside it, the only choice they had was to find a way to reach the broken handle and attempt to finish what Neomi started. Such a task wouldn’t be easy. None of the warriors would be able to reach the Avaern without notice. The only one who had a possible opening to approach was him. No one knew he was there. Callum and the others believed him to be safely tucked away inside the bunker with Ehren and the rest of the soldiers not armed under Callum’s orders. His concern was in how he would pull off a stunt of this degree. He wouldn’t have the assistance of the Ovatai to boost him with the momentum necessary to drive the blade deeper into the Avaern’s chest. It would require the use of his own energy to create the force needed to accomplish his goal.
His legs were already carrying him forward before he could think of changing his mind. This was their chance. It didn’t matter what the risks were. They needed him. If he failed, they would all die. Ewei’s energy was already starting to meld with the Avaern, the power of the wind increasing, thickening the blizzard that raged around them. A bright light shone from where the blade protruded from the beast, the Avaern’s loud shrieks coming in short, painful bursts. It was distracted by the weapon. So often it had come to attack, feeling nothing from the arrows and blades used against it. To experience injury was unexpected. Its wings waved wildly toward the front, causing the Ovatai to scatter in attempts to avoid its violent frenzy.
Getting up to the weapon would be the most difficult part of his plan. Without the help of the Ovatai warriors, he would have to find a way to climb the beast itself. He wasn’t sure what the Avaern’s skin was like, if it would grant any kind of hold with which to pull himself up. All he knew was that he had to try. Reaching the weapon from the front was impossible with the frenetic motion of the Avaern’s wings. He had to find a way to the weapon from the back.
The tail was coming toward him, sending the snow in every direction as it cut through the air. Picking up speed, he ran with all the strength he could muster, focused on reaching the base of the Avaern’s tail before it could push him out of the way. Moments before impact he leapt from the ground, pushing off the balls of his feet to create a greater spring to his step. The Avaern’s skin was harder than he expected, jarring every bone in his body as he grasped onto it, his fingers wrapped tightly over the scale-like surface, hanging on desperately as the Avaern began to thrash, immediately taking notice of his presence. Aside from the creases in its skin, the Avaern was surprisingly smooth, making it harder for Edric to keep his grip. He was beginning to doubt his sanity in making the decision to do this. It was crazy to think that he could take on the Avaern single-handedly when so many others had failed. But this wasn’t the time to second-guess himself. He was already too far to turn back.
He began to climb the Avaern’s back, carefully positioning his boots over the creases of the skin to keep his footing, stretching his arms to try and grasp further up the widening sections of its body. He was getting close to the wings. Although they were in constant motion, they would be his best option in reaching the weapon. Every wave it made to try and remove the blade brought the wings in toward its chest. With a well-timed jump, he could let the Avaern carry him right where he needed to go. Hanging on, however, would be a completely different challenge.
Its wings presented another problem as he slowly moved closer. They were smooth at the base, offering nothing for him to grab onto in order to pull himself up. His only chance was to stay on the upper edge of the extremity and slide across. It was a dangerous option, but one he had to accept. There was no other way. Muscles tensed, he flung himself onto the wing, hugging his arms over the edge to keep himself in place. His legs dangled precariously, left with nowhere to place his feet to aid in his efforts. The further he slid along the edge, the more ferocious the Avaern became in its attempts to rid itself of him, its serpent-like neck bending and twisting, the sharpened teeth of its monstrous mouth snapping at him, breathing a warm, heavy, foul-smelling wind across his face. It was getting too close for comfort, biting down only inches from his left arm, causing him to release his hold to swing away from the teeth. Without the support of both arms he found himself at the mercy of the Avaern, tossed back and forth from the wave of its wing, shaking him until he didn’t think he could hold on any longer. Throwing his weight forward he flung the left side of his body at the wing once again, barely managing to regain his grasp.
Every thrash of its wings brought him closer and closer to the broken handle of the spear, mentally calculating the distance he would need to cover in order to reach it. He struggled to swing his legs upward, clambering over the edge to position himself on the other side of the wing to get a better view of his target. The Avaern continued its attempts to knock him down, the motion of its body erratic, making it difficult to judge when to make the jump. He didn’t have much longer to wait. The light around the stone was already beginning to fade, seeping from the weapon into the Avaern, melding with it to become one. If he waited much longer he would lose his chance and there would be no coming back. The weapon would be lost forever and the Avaern would be too powerful for them to take on.
Eyes narrowed, he focused his attention on the weapon, bracing himself for the final leap. He would only have one chance. If he didn’t clear the distance, they would be finished. The war would end now, one way or another. It was in the hands of the gods to guide him in his efforts. He prayed that they hadn’t abandoned him for the mistakes he’d made along the way.
As the wing drew closer to the Avaern’s chest he pushed off with a powerful heave, throwing himself at the mercy of the beast. Gathering the energy within himself he latched onto the remnants of the spear handle, the force of his own life essence directed forward to thrust the spear deeper into the Avaern’s chest. He could feel it move, guided through the thick skin by the energy. Instantly he felt his body weaken, the strength leaving his muscles, losing his hold on the stone which had kept him suspended to this point. His vision darkened. An all too familiar sensation; reminding him of the discomfort he exp
erienced when facing the boeikath, only to a higher degree, as if his very soul was being pulled from his body, sucked outward by the Avaern. For a brief moment he was detached. He watched his fingers slip away from the handle, seeing it all from the outside, lingering there like a ghost witnessing the final moments of his life.
He was falling. He knew this, though he couldn’t feel the weightlessness. His ability to experience outside sensations was nonexistent. From where he watched, he saw his body land at the Avaern’s feet, crumpled in an awkward heap. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be seeing this. Am I dead?
The thought was frightening. For so long he had convinced himself that he was prepared for death but the realization that his life was over struck him in a way no words could describe. The experience was beyond physical pain and suffering, overcome with grief for the life he would leave behind. His parents. Aiva. Callum. Neomi… he wasn’t ready to leave her. He wasn’t ready to leave any of them. At one time he thought that he was prepared to move on from this world but in that moment he could think of nothing but the things he’d left undone. The things he hadn’t said to those who meant the most to him in life.
No. He wasn’t ready. There was still fight left in him and his family was worth whatever pain he would have to endure to see himself through this. And Neomi – she was still out there. He could see her in Onuric’s arms, the sound of her voice hollow as she cried out. Edric. It was his name she shouted. And to her side he could see Callum’s brave figure running forward to where Edric’s body lie, unmoving, covered already by a layer of snow from the rampant wind. There was a horrified desperation in his eyes that was unusual for him, no longer resembling the calm, collected Callum that Edric was so accustomed to seeing.
The Avaern was falling. If Callum came any closer he would be crushed under the weight of it. He had to warn him. But how? He had no voice. He wasn’t a part of their world. But he didn’t feel the pull of eternity that he expected from death. It was as if he was in a state of suspended animation, capable of conscious thought. If he could get back to his body he was convinced he could somehow force himself back to life. He had heard stories of near-death experiences where the spirit was able to reconnect with the physical form. His own mother had spoken of it on occasion, though he’d always been convinced that she was exaggerating. He no longer doubted her. Now he just had to pray that he shared the same strength that she possessed. The same will to live which had pulled her through.
Determined not to give in to death, he set his sights on his lifeless figure, the speed which he dove toward it blurring his vision. He refused to let it end this way. If there was still a chance, he was resolved to take it. The gods would have to wait for him.
In a flash of excruciating pain he felt consciousness return, opening his eyes to see the Avaern’s immense form falling over top of him, the light of the sun obstructed completely from view. He could hear Callum’s voice calling his name. If only he could move! His muscles ignored the directions he tried to give them to lift himself from the ground. He lacked the energy. Vertigo overtook him, impeding his ability to think clearly. Callum’s voice was closer, the sensation of hands grabbing at him, dragging him across the snow. The Avaern was nearly upon them. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Callum gave one final heave before lowering himself to the ground, shielding Edric’s body with his own, the air filled with a tremendous crash as everything around them went black, the last string of consciousness slipping away, leaving him helpless to the endless dark.
Neomi stared, horrified at the realization of what was happening. The Avaern was dead. Edric’s efforts were beyond courageous, finishing the job that she’d been unable to complete before the Avaern sent her hurtling to the ground at her brother’s feet. Her arm ached from where she’d landed, every inch of her midsection burning, aware of the injuries she sustained from the impact. None of it mattered. What were a few broken bones when Edric now lay under the body of the massive beast that she was supposed to bring down? A man with no ties to her land or people had selflessly thrown his life away to save them all. When she thought over the way he’d been treated by her brother and the other warriors since his arrival, it baffled her as to why he would make such a sacrifice. His altruism was admirable. Worthy of the highest respect from any culture. It stung to think that he would die and never know how grateful she was for everything he’d done.
She could feel her brother’s hands desperately trying to hold her back as she stumbled forward, unable to think about anything but the sight of the Avaern lying there, knowing that Edric and Callum were somewhere under the hulking mass of flesh which had threatened them only moments ago. It seemed impossible for anyone to have survived being crushed by a creature of such immense size but she couldn’t let herself give up hope.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, the emotions no longer within her control. She didn’t care if anyone saw her weep over Edric. What could they do to her? Chastise her for caring about the man who saved their entire race? They wouldn’t dare be so ungracious. It didn’t matter what her father or brother felt toward the foreigners. They owed the Vor’shai their lives and she would see to it that Edric and Callum received the veneration they deserved.
Pain shot through her left arm as she tried to lift the heavy wing of the beast, finding it impossible to move the joint at her shoulder. It felt oddly detached but that didn’t matter. All she cared about was getting the beast off Edric’s body so that she could see for herself the fate which had befallen him and Callum. She was surprised to discover another set of hands at her side helping to push at the wing, their combined efforts making little progress. Turning her head she found herself face-to-face with Gadiel’s glowing green eyes, a similar desperation to her own filling their depths.
Within moments she was surrounded by the diverse features of the Vor’shai soldiers, their hands reaching to aid in the efforts to remove the wing from where it landed. Their dedication and loyalty to their Captain and Prince was incredible. Among the Ovatai the two would have been considered a lost cause, but these men and women worked together in unison, their strength helping to ease the weight of the creature, making it easier for her and Gadiel to create a gap large enough to squeeze through. She wasn’t sure how she would get to Edric. If she released her hold it would place more of a burden on the shoulders of the Vor’shai, giving no guarantee that they would be able to maintain its position long enough for her to crawl underneath.
Through the pain and misery she became suddenly aware of another sturdy pair of arms reaching over her, relieving the weight of the Avaern from her uninjured arm. Lifting her eyes to see who had come to her aid she blinked in disbelief to find Onuric standing over her, his solemn expression deepening to see the tears which streamed along her cheeks. He looked as though someone had struck him in the stomach, an agonized grimace crossing his features as he averted his eyes, gesturing with a sharp nod of his head for her to go to Edric.
Swiftly, she lowered to the ground, pulling herself forward, feeling the cold of the snow dampening her clothes. She wasn’t sure what she would find underneath the beast, prepared for the worst. Her throat contracted from the emotion she experienced, afraid to find their mangled bodies, bloodied and broken, unrecognizable from their wounds. She didn’t think she could bear the sight. When she lifted her head to observe the area she cried out in shock and relief to see Callum kneeling on the ground, the arch of the Avaern’s wing creating a gap overhead, forming a small barrier which had trapped them inside while protecting them from the weight of the cumbrous creature.
She was taken aback to see Callum’s face. His eyes were moist, a slight sparkle to their umber hue where unshed tears threatened to fall. A faint line could be seen over the skin of his cheeks were previous tears had already escaped; his head leaned forward over Edric’s chest, listening and feeling for any indication of movement. Some sign of life. She had a feeling that this was a side of the Vor’shai Captain the soldiers were never intended to se
e. After the time she’d spent with Callum, she had convinced herself he wasn’t capable of such emotion. More like the Ovatai than the rest of the Vor’shai troops. She realized now that his façade came from years of learning to conceal his emotions for the sake of the soldiers. But Edric was more to him than just another member of his unit. Much the same as he was more than just another foreigner to her.
Struggling to sit up, she placed her right hand over Edric’s stomach, staring at Callum, wide-eyed and desperate for him to give her some words of comfort. To her dismay he provided no reassurance, his lips trembling as he found his voice to speak. “I cannot feel a pulse. It may be that my fingers are too numb to pick it up if it is merely faint but I sense no breath. He… he cannot be dead.”
Dead. Never before had the thought of death struck so much fear into her heart. She’d watched many warriors die over the years. Her eyes had witnessed the corpse of her own husband and shed not a single tear over the loss yet this… somehow it was worse. “He is not weak. The fall alone could not have killed him.”
“No, not the fall,” Callum shook his head, taking Edric’s lifeless wrist between his fingers, pausing to feel for a pulse again before returning his ear to Edric’s still chest in his desperate attempts to make out a heartbeat within. “I saw the light come from his hands when he struck the beast. He knew the dangers of utilizing our energy yet he did it anyway. Edric, you foolish bastard. What were you thinking?”
A brief sense of hope came over her, reminded of the night she’d first opened herself up to Edric on their way to Isavo. She had been able to replenish his spent energy then, but this was far more extreme than the minor depletion he suffered while defending against the boeikath. Still, it was worth trying. He deserved every effort after what he had done for them. “I have something I could try, but I must have the use of both hands to accomplish what I need to do. Are you well enough to examine my injury?”
The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Three: Crown of Ice Page 94