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Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three)

Page 30

by Cooley, Trevor H.


  The two raptoids hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and claws and the arrow ripped through the air where they had been, blasting into a stack of hay. Deathclaw and Talon screeched and hissed at each other as they rolled about slashing and biting. His heavier weight was an advantage in this sort of fight, but the sword strapped across his back hampered his movements.

  Deathclaw wasn’t sure why he had stopped Talon from striking the large wounded beast that protected the humans. Perhaps it was eagerness at finally having her in his sights, or perhaps he was just tired of coming across the corpses left behind in the wake of her insanity. In either case, the move had been foolish.

  The best thing would have been to wait until she had killed the beast and the human archer before attacking. That way, she may have been wounded and easier to kill. As it was, he now had an enraged Talon attacking him at close quarters where he could not reach the sword and two more enemies at his back that would not know he wasn’t after them. And by the sound the arrow had made as it passed mere inches from his body, the archer had magic.

  Deathclaw knew that he had to end this quickly and escape or he could end up dying before accomplishing his task. Killing Talon was what really mattered. Once that was done, it didn’t matter if he was alive or dead.

  Talon bit into his shoulder and he gripped her throat with one hand. The claw on his thumb pierced her neck as he pushed her away far enough to get one leg up between them. He planted his foot on her chest. She clawed at him, scoring deep gouges in his skin, but he ignored the pain and with a heave, shoved her away before rolling and leaping to his feet.

  He drew Star from its sheath. The blade sparkled with energy. This was the time of night when it was at its peak power. Talon launched herself at him and Deathclaw stepped aside, swinging the sword at her as she passed by. The tip sliced across her back. Flames spewed from the cut with a heat so intense that it left glowing embers behind.

  Talon arched her back and screeched in pain at the burning wound, but still found a way to dodge his next strike. She then came at him, but their battle was interrupted by the bellow of the large wounded beast. It swung an enormous fist that Deathclaw had to fall to the ground to avoid.

  Talon darted forward. The beast launched a mighty kick that caught her in the midsection. The blow sent her tumbling across the yard until she was stopped by a fencepost that cracked with the impact.

  Deathclaw rolled to his feet. Talon was his only target, but if the beast would not back down, he would have to kill it as well. He tried to catch the beast’s eyes and pointed to Talon with a chirp of explanation, showing that he was there to fight her, but the beast was not paying attention. Its face was full of rage.

  It swung another punch and Deathclaw had no choice but to strike back. He dodged to the side and sent his tail barb out into the beast’s thigh, tearing through enough muscle to slow it down. The beast roared in pain. Talon, despite what Deathclaw knew had to be multiple broken ribs, hissed in delight at his attack and leapt onto the beast. It staggered backwards.

  She dug in with her rear claws, ripping deep wounds into its chest and side. The beast, already weakened from loss of blood, fell to its knees. She gave a cry of triumph and raised a claw for what Deathclaw knew would be a fatal slash at its jugular, but the beast grabbed her by the neck and lifted her in the air over its head.

  She tore into its arm and Deathclaw saw an opening. He drew back his sword, but before he could strike, the arrow hit her.

  Fist, I cannot get a good shot, move out of the way! The ogre, his rage broken by the enormity of his wounds, finally registered his frantic mental shouts. Fist gripped the creature by the neck and lifted her up in the air, giving Justan the look he needed. Ma’am thrummed with power as he let fly.

  The arrow caught the creature in the side. The force of the shot ripped her from Fist’s grasp. She hurtled through the air in a spray of blood to crash into the side of the barn.

  The male creature hissed at the sound of the impact and Justan drew another arrow. It sheathed the sword and turned towards him, raising its hands palm out in a pleading manner. It started backing away, but Justan was not about to let it escape. He did not know why it had chosen to strike at the other creature, but it had attacked Fist and that was all he needed to know.

  There was movement at the side of the barn and to Justan’s surprise, the creature he had thought dead was stumbling towards the woods. He changed targets and fired again, but she took on a sudden burst of speed and the arrow blasted through the air just behind her, exploding into the dirt several yards away.

  The male creature drew his sword and ran after her. Justan pulled another arrow but heard a thud behind him. Fist was face down in the dirt.

  “Fist!” Justan reached the ogre and turned him onto his back. Squirrel leapt down from the roof and ran around the both of them chattering in concern.

  “I am okay,” Fist mumbled and tried to sit up, but Justan pushed him back down. The damage was severe. He had known it before, but hadn’t been able to do anything about it during the thick of the battle. Through the blood and tattered cloth, Justan saw lacerations on the ogre’s chest so deep that whiteness of rib bone was exposed.

  “Stay there! Don’t do anything. I told Gwyrtha. Qyxal and Master Coal are on their way here.” Justan dove into the bond to inspect the damage.

  “Are they gone?” Fist asked. His voice was faint.

  Don’t talk aloud. Save your strength. Just breathe, Justan sent. It was even worse from the inside. The ogre’s blood supply was dangerously low and more was bleeding out of him every second. Fist was on the verge of death. They are gone, but we will go after them as soon as Qyxal heals you up.

  Tell Miss Nala that I am sorry about the shirt. Fist tried to lift his head to look at the damage, but he had grown too weak. Tell Becca to take money from my pay for her to make anoth . . .

  Fist’s thoughts faded and Justan shouted, “Fist! Stay awake!”

  The ogre stirred in response and Justan called out to Gwyrtha. She and Qyxal were close and Master Coal and Samson were not far behind, but Justan didn’t think Fist had that long. He had no choice but to try to heal him alone.

  Tired. Fist said even though Justan could tell his heart was racing. Can I sleep?

  No-no! Stay awake just a little while longer. Justan pulled energy from Gwyrtha and channeled it to the ogre while he paused frantically. The damage was so extensive. Where should he start?

  Fist’s eyes opened wider with the increase of energy. Can not see good. Hi Squirrel.

  Justan ignored Squirrel’s panicked chattering and focused in on the major arteries that had been damaged. As he had watched Qyxal do in the past, he used water and air to hold the arteries shut while he manipulated the miniscule amount of earth magic he had to stitch the severed vessels together. It was intricate work, but when he released the blood flow, the wounds stayed closed. He then fed energy to Fist’s bones, getting them to work harder at making the blood the ogre needed while he started working on the smaller vessels.

  That feels funny, Fist remarked. His thoughts were muddled. I-am . . . uh, I dying?

  No, Justan said, concentrating on his work. It was too difficult. The blood was leaving his body faster than he could repair him. You will be fine. Tell Squirrel that I am fixing you. The animal was chattering madly and pulling on his shirt.

  Squirrel. Justan is fixinged me.

  Justan finished the last major vessel, but his work on one of the arteries was leaking and he had to go back to it. If only he had been able to practice this work instead of just observing it. He wasn’t fast enough.

  Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and to his relief, Qyxal knelt beside him. The elf immediately took over the healing and Justan watched with intense focus as his friend set in with practiced ease, healing large areas of damaged flesh at once.

  “Thank you so much.” Justan said, his emotions bubbling over with gratitude. He had come so close to losing Fist and it was all his f
ault. “I-I wasn’t good enough. I . . .”

  “It is okay, Justan.” Qyxal said, not bothering to use his proper title this time. He didn’t look up, remaining focused on his work. “You showed good presence of mind. Fixing the arteries first was the right choice. If you hadn’t, I would have been too late. As it is, the injuries are severe and with the blood loss, some of this will be painful. Fist, I am going to make you sleep now. When you wake up, you will feel much better, okay?”

  “Yes, but Justan!” The ogre reached out and grabbed his arm. Protect the children and Miss Nala.

  “I will,” Justan said, but Fist was already unconscious. He reached down and gently pried the ogre’s bloody fingers free from his leg. Justan grabbed his bow and stood.

  “You should observe this,” Qyxal said. “I didn’t want to say this while Fist was awake, but these injuries are near the boundaries of my ability. This is going to be difficult.”

  “I know I should, but-.”

  The sound of hoof beats interrupted him as Master Coal arrived on Samson. There were a half dozen armed men right behind him on horses of their own. The wizard dismounted as he spoke to Justan.

  “Are the creatures gone? Is everyone alright?”

  “The two that we saw are gone, but Fist is badly hurt,” Justan said.

  “Qyxal, is he stable?” Master Coal strode to the elf and looked down at the blood-soaked ogre, his eyes filled with concern.

  “Some of this is tricky if you would like to help,” Qyxal said. The elf was deep into his work and the strain was evident in his voice.

  Master Coal knelt beside him and raised his hands out over the ogre, but looked back to Justan who had already leapt onto Gwyrtha’s back. “Where are you going, Edge?”

  “She can’t have gone far with that wound. Tell your men to search around and make sure that there are not more of the creatures,” Justan said and willed Gwyrtha forward. Find her. The rogue horse eagerly complied, racing in the direction the creatures had gone. She wanted to take a bite out of the creature that hurt Fist herself. “I am going to kill that thing.”

  He had to. That thing needed to die. Something that would do the things that creature had done . . . He had to kill it. Then as soon as Fist was better, they would leave so that the farmers would no longer be in danger. He didn’t know where they would go next, but now was not the time to worry about that. Now was the time to hunt.

  The creatures couldn’t hide their tracks this time. Gwyrtha had a clear trail of blood to follow. They didn’t have far to go either.

  A short way into the woods, they came to the top of a rise. Below them was a small clearing and Justan could see the two creatures doing battle. The fight wasn’t going well for the injured one. She had several small glowing wounds from the magic sword.

  It looked as though the creature with the sword intended to slay her. Even through the darkness Justan could see that she was horrifically damaged. There was a gaping wound where his arrow had hit her in the side. Yet she must have had a remarkable healing ability because she was no longer bleeding and somehow still managed to dodge the other creature’s attacks. It was clear to Justan that the male creature was not trained with the sword.

  Justan watched as she ducked a swipe of the blade. The moment the strike passed by, she twisted and sent out her tail with the wicked spike on the end. In an amazing show of dexterity, the male twirled around, knocking her tail aside with his own, and thrust out with the sword.

  This time his strike was true. The shimmering blade pierced her belly just below the place where Justan’s arrow had struck. Flames erupted from the wound, some even spouting from within the hole Justan’s arrow had left.

  She screeched and collapsed to the ground, chirping and hissing at the male in a pleading manner. The male creature took a step back and cocked his head before replying with a regretful sounding chirp of his own. He drew back his sword for a finishing strike.

  Justan willed Gwyrtha forward. Once the female creature was dead, he couldn’t let the male get away. He drew his swords.

  The sky! Gwyrtha sent in warning.

  Justan looked up just in time to see an enormous winged shadow descend from the night sky. It struck the ground in front of the female creature and as it touched the earth a wave of heat emanated from it with such force that it knocked Justan off of Gwyrtha’s back. A nearby tree and the forest floor around the beast burst into flames. The male creature was thrown back several yards.

  The female creature squealed as the beast scooped her up in one clawed hand and took off back into the sky. Once it cleared the trees, the beast banked and soared to the east. Justan watched its departure in stunned silence as the female creature’s terrified screeches faded into the night.

  He rose to his feet and checked to make sure Gwyrtha was okay. Despite some singed patches of hair, she was uninjured. He looked back into the clearing and in the light of the burning tree, saw the solitary remaining creature rise and look to the sky in the direction she had been taken. It let out a horrible keening sound.

  A sudden lance of pain shot through Justan’s skull. He fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. A scream nearly pierced his lips and an intense feeling of emptiness flooded his mind. It was over. She was dead. What was his purpose now? What was left? He was alone.

  The thoughts were cut off as Gwyrtha struck the male creature, throwing it to the ground. She stood over it. Her claws dug in, cracking its ribs under her weight. The creature made no move to defend itself. Why bother? It, no, he was ready for death. Gwyrtha’s maw full of teeth descended on his head, eager to oblige.

  “Gwyrtha stop!” Justan cried out and forced his body to stand despite the pounding in his head. Do not kill him.

  Why?

  Just . . . don’t. It was hard to think straight.

  With reluctance, Gwyrtha backed off of the creature. It stayed on the ground for a moment, blinking its eyes in confusion. Then it sat up and regarded the two of them warily.

  “You are not alone.” Justan stumbled towards the creature and reached out. He absently noted that his hand was shaking. “I am Justan.”

  It cocked its head, sizing him up like a large puzzle. No human had ever approached it so. It did not take his hand but stood and took a few steps back. Why was there no fear in the human archer’s eyes?

  “Please,” Justan said and extended his arm once again. With difficulty, he formed a picture of what he wanted it to do and sent it through the bond. He took another step forward. Take my hand.

  Its clawed fingers reached tentatively towards his, but stopped a few inches short. A hiss escaped its lips and it turned to run.

  “Wait!” he shouted.

  The creature only made it a few steps away, before stiffening and falling to the ground. It was then that Justan registered the sounds around him as multiple men on horses entered the clearing. The headache had been so intense, he hadn’t heard them coming.

  Master Coal leapt from Samson’s back and strode over to Justan. As he approached, the creature on the ground screeched and struggled against the threads of air that bound it. The loneliness leeching through the bond turned to fear. Something about Master Coal terrified it.

  “Master, please let it go.” Justan’s words were slurred. For some reason the pain wasn’t going away this time. It had been over quickly in the past. Why wasn’t it going away?

  “But it is . . . Edge are you alright?” Coal looked. He stepped forward and opened Justan’s eyes wider with thumbs and forefingers. “Did you take a blow to the head?”

  “No, or I don’t think so. My head hurts though.”

  “We need to find out the reason for the attack,” the wizard said. “Why do you want me to let it go? What if it comes back with others?”

  “He didn’t have anything to do with the attack,” Justan explained, his head still pounding. “He was only here to hunt the other creature down.”

  “But . . .?” Master Coal’s eyes widened in understanding.
He turned back to look at the struggling creature and Justan knew that the wizard had switched to spirit sight.

  “How do you know?” Samson asked.

  “His name is Deathclaw,” Justan said, his head still pounding. “We’ve just bonded.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Justan awoke in his room at the lodge. At least he thought it was his room. The bed felt strange. The oddness of the sensation wiped the vestiges of sleep from his mind. Actually, it wasn’t that the bed felt strange, it was more like there was too much of it. He sat up and tried to figure out how there could be too much bed.

  He looked around and saw that he was indeed in his room at the lodge. He must have slept through the morning hours. His eyes ached as he noted the bright sunlight streaming through the one small window. The bed wasn’t any different than it had always been. Instead, his perceptions of the bed had changed. He could feel every detail of the fabrics against his skin.

 

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