“Don’t worry. Charz has no way to know we’re here.” Justan said. “Deathclaw recognized that thing. It was the beast that took his demon sister the night we bonded. What if it attacks him?”
Fist pulled his new mace from its place at his back. I’m ready.
Me too, Gwyrtha added.
“Surely he knows to stay out of sight,” Master Coal said, obviously hesitant to re-enter the giant’s territory.
Justan’s eyes widened. “He’s under attack!”
Coal frowned, then nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a dag-gum minute, son!” Lenny said. “I think I might-!“
Gwyrtha was already running down the steep bank along the tree line. Justan leaned forward in the saddle, clutching her mane. Fist was right behind, his long powerful legs churning the earth with the increased speed brought by his mace. With a curse, Lenny and Qyxal charged after them and Coal and his bonded brought up the rear.
Deathclaw’s predicament came into view as they turned the corner at the forest’s edge. The raptoid stood knee deep in the flowing water, fighting toe to toe against a small quick figure. Justan and Fist picked up speed just as the enormous winged beast reappeared in the sky above. It dove right for them.
The great red beast soared just over Justan’s head and Coal saw one of its hands release a huge ball of writhing tentacles. The ball struck the ground right behind Fist, throwing up a cloud of earth.
It instantly opened up into a wide tangled mass of waving tentacles. Lenny and Qyxal were barely able to swerve around it and reigned in just on the other side, looking back in surprise. Feelers shot out in all directions as the thing grew and expanded, taking up the road. Some of the feelers plunged into the ground like roots digging into the soil and a long stalk-like head rose from the center of the mass. A large unblinking eye opened up and gazed right at the wizard.
Coal and his bonded found themselves divided from the others. The wizard recognized the danger and shouted, “Qyxal, Lenny, go on and help them! We’ll be right behind you.”
“Dag-blast it! Right,” Lenny replied, giving one worried glance to Bettie before he wheeled Stanza around and galloped after Justan, Qyxal riding in his wake.
Coal reached for the spear strapped to the pack behind him, and handed it to Samson. He slid from the centaur’s back and switched to mage sight, studying the beast before them. What he saw surprised him. The creature was ablaze with magic. Each part of its body was held together with tiny strands of all four magical elements. The mix was wildly unstable. By all rights, such a creation should have fallen apart, but as he looked closer, he saw that each elemental strand was anchored together with wisps of spirit magic. A wizard with spirit magic had created this thing.
As he formulated a plan, Bettie lost patience. She rode forward and charged the beast, her new hammer held high. Wait! Coal cried through the bond, but she had come too close. One thin, whip-like tentacle lashed out from the center of the thing. It struck her horse at the shoulder, shearing off its left front leg.
The horse squealed and fell towards the beast. Bettie instinctively pulled her foot out of the stirrup and dove off the right side of her horse as it fell. She landed on her side, and scrambled backwards in the dirt, trying to put more distance between herself and the creature.
Her mount crashed at the base of the root-like structures that anchored the beast to the ground. The horse screamed in pain and thrashed, trying to get up.
“Pansy!” Bettie cried, getting to her feet. She had somehow managed to hold onto her hammer as she fell. The half-orc swung her weapon back, intending to run to her horse’s rescue.
“No, Bettie!” Coal shouted.
The whip creature lashed out with quick cracks of its razor sharp tentacles. Pansy’s horrible screams were silenced as the creature divided the poor horse into quarters. It kept lashing repeatedly, cutting the horse into smaller chunks. All the while, the eye on its stalk of a head never looked away from Coal and Samson.
“Bettie, come back over here!” Samson called. “We need to do this right!”
Pansy! Bettie, tears streaming from her eyes, ran over to them. Coal laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The roots at the whip-creature’s base churned through the ground, pulling it forward until it was on top of the horse’ still-quivering remains, then it settled down and hideous slurping noises told them that it had begun to feed.
I’m sorry, Bettie. Coal shared in her sorrow through the bond. Bettie had raised Pansy. He had given the horse to her right after it was foaled in an attempt to help with her loneliness.
“How do we kill the damned thing?” she asked with gritted teeth.
“Like Samson said, we do it right,” Coal said. Bettie nodded.
As soon as Justan saw Deathclaw’s assailant, he knew that this was no random attack. This new figure and the great red beast in the same area? The whole thing stank of Ewzad Vriil. He spurred Gwyrtha forward, intent on getting to Deathclaw before the raptoid was overpowered.
Justan barely saw the great red beast dive from overhead. He was aware of the commotion behind him, but he didn’t stop. He trusted his friends to handle the attack and focused on helping his new bonded.
Deathclaw was holding his own at the moment, but he was sorely pressed. The attacker was unnaturally fast and Deathclaw hadn’t even been able to draw his sword yet. His complete attention was focused on avoiding the beast’s slashing daggers.
Justan saw the green overlapping platemail and made a sudden realization. This creature was similar to Huck, Ewzad’s creation that he had faced on the way to Dremald. Justan gripped Gwyrtha with his legs and sat up in the saddle, reaching back to grab his bow. He sent a mental command to Gwyrtha. She slowed to a stop and Fist arrived at their side breathing heavily but ready to fight. Squirrel left its pouch at Fist’s side and darted across the ground, headed for the trees.
Justan drew an arrow. They were close enough. He had a clear shot on the beast. He aimed for the base of its neck. Surely whatever armored plates Ewzad Vriil had given it wouldn’t be able to withstand a shot from Ma’am at such a critical spot.
Before he could release the shot, a great shadow appeared over them. Justan looked up just as the enormous winged beast darted in. It struck the ground several yards in front of them. A wave of heat blasted forth, causing Gwyrtha to stumble back several steps. Fist raised his shield, but had to strain to keep his footing.
The creature rose on two scaled feet and stretched, spreading its wings like a great demon out of legend. The air blazed hotter still. It was no dragon. It had arms and legs shaped and muscled like a man’s, but stood at twice Fist’s height. Two huge horns grew from its temples and its eyes were a fiery yellow, but its facial structure was clearly humanoid.
“Why are you here?” Justan called out, hoping that a creature this human-looking would somehow be able to be reasoned with.
The beast’s eyes widened in recognition and smiled, showing a mouth full of sharpened teeth. The voice that came out was both loud and terrible, “JUSTAN, SON OF FALDON THE FIERCE? AGAIN?”
Again? Surely he would remember such a beast. Justan recovered from the shock of its speaking to ask, “Why do you know me? Who are you?”
“YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE YOUR DEAR FRIEND, KENN?” The beast laughed, a deep unpleasant sound. “BUT WHY SHOULD YOU? KENN WAS WEAK! I AM MAGNIFICENT!”
Justan’s jaw dropped. Kenn? The facial similarities between the enormous beast before him and the sniveling man he knew were faint, but Justan could think of no reason to doubt the thing. A surge of pity rose inside him. “I’m sorry Kenn. Ewzad Vriil did this to you, didn’t he?”
“DID THIS TO ME?” The beast that was Kenn spat and its saliva sizzled in the mud. “THIS WAS A GIFT FOR A FAITHFUL SERVANT.”
Justan saw no reason to argue with his delusions. “Why are you here, Kenn? Why are you after Deathclaw?”
“THE DEMON?” Kenn shrugged his scaled shoulders. “MY MASTER LIKES HIS PLAYTHINGS. T
HIS ONEGOT AWAY.” His eyes narrowed. “WHY DO YOU CARE?”
“What matters is that I do care.” Justan knew Kenn well enough to understand that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this fight. Even so, he had to give Kenn a chance to back out. He laid the bow across Gwyrtha’s back and showed Kenn the runes of the back of his right hand and the palm of his left. “You are different now, Kenn, but so am I. I am Edge. I was named as warrior and wizard at the Bowl of Souls! Let Deathclaw go and there is no reason for us to fight.”
The great beast scowled. “YES, I HEARD OF YOUR SO-CALLED NAMING. THE MASTER MENTIONED IT TO ME MULTIPLE TIMES. EVEN IF I WASN’T HERE FOR THE DEMON, I WOULD HAPILLY KILL YOU JUST FOR THAT HUMILIATION ALONE.”
Justan picked up Ma’am again. Fist, when I distract him, go help Deathclaw. The journey across the river had taken a lot out of the raptoid and Justan could tell he was about to be overcome. Fist hesitated, not wanting to leave Justan’s side, but he tightened his grip on his new mace and nodded. Justan sent him every memory he had about his fight with Huck.
Kenn stepped forward and Justan raised his bow. But before he could draw back the string, a small fiery streak arced through the air and struck Kenn in the chest. Qyxal arrived on Albert with his new bow in hand, followed by Lenny on Stanza. A small gout of flame spurted from the place Qyxal’s arrow had struck. Kenn looked down and snorted in derision.
Now, Fist. Ma’am thrummed with glee as Justan drew and fired. The arrow was nearly too fast to follow. It struck Kenn right between the eyes, the impact rocking his enormous head back. Kenn let out a gasp of surprise, but the strike lacked its usual explosive effect. The arrow had barely sunk in past the tip. Kenn looked back down at Justan and his demonic face twisted in anger. The tiny arrow went up in flames.
Deathclaw could feel the heat at his back, but dared not take his attention off the green-armored creature before him. It stood at about his height, but each limb and segment of its body was covered in solid armor. Each plate overlapped another and Deathclaw had not been able to reach a seam to strike into. Its head was covered in a helmet with a rectangle cut out for its eyes and was otherwise featureless except for a thin vertical slit that extended from just under its eyes down to its chin.
Such thick armor should have weighed it down, but the creature didn’t seem to be encumbered at all. It was faster and stronger and harder than him. Every strike he got in with claw or tail barely scratched its bony plates. Only the precise control he had over his body had kept him alive so far. If only he had a brief moment to draw his sword, the fight might be even, but every time he reached for the hilt, the creature went on the attack.
He moved his head to the side, narrowly avoiding a slash from one of its daggers and at the same time, rose his foot to block the follow through of the blade in its second hand. The claws on his foot scraped along the hard plates on its forearm, but did no damage. He twisted and sent his tail out just under its guard. His tail barb struck at the joint of the beast’s armor in its armpit. Deathclaw felt flesh give and knew that he had finally done some damage.
The creature didn’t so much as grunt. The narrowing of its eyes were the only sign it had been hit. It twirled and whipped its leg around so fast Deathclaw almost didn’t see the kick coming. He raised his arm at the last possible moment and felt a crack as its heel struck.
Even before the pain hit, he knew that one of the bones in his forearm was broken. He dodged around the creature, trying to buy time while he forced his fist to close. He clenched his muscle around the bone, forcing it to set in place. He willed the magic within him to heal it and felt the bone tingle as his body started to work. Normally with a break this minor, his magic would have it partially healed in minutes, but this creature was not going to give him time.
It leaned forward and stabbed both daggers out in a double thrust. Deathclaw had to leap back to avoid being impaled. He wrapped his wounded arm around his back to protect it, knowing that he was going to have to defeat the beast without the use of one limb. He really needed to get to his sword, but now the hilt was even harder to get to because it was on the same side as his wounded arm.
Fist is coming, said Justan’s voice from within the bond. Deathclaw felt a tiny click in the back of his mind and he could hear the ogre’s thoughts. His headache thumped with the increased stress. The human had somehow connected them together again. The ogre was running towards him, confident that he would be able to help kill the beast, but reluctant to leave Justan. Fist intended to end the fight quickly and get back to help the human.
Deathclaw hissed in irritation. The ogre would likely get killed. He chirped a command through the bond. If the ogre had been one of Deathclaw’s pack, he would have understood the tone of the chirp to mean, ‘hang back and wait for an opportune time to strike,’ but Fist charged on oblivious to the tone.
The creature saw him coming. It sent a quick kick into Deathclaw’s midsection and edged its way to the side. Now Deathclaw was between the beast and the oncoming ogre.
It is fast, Deathclaw warned. It is hard.
So am I, Fist said and charged on. Justan said it is not wearing armor. That is its skin. The wizard made it hard. Fist gathered the memories Justan had showed him and threw the information into Deathclaw’s mind.
When Justan had sent memories into Deathclaw’s mind, it had been done gradually, and felt almost as if he had experienced them himself. This was different. Fist just shoved them over. The overwhelming pile of thoughts inflamed his raging headache and threw off Deathclaw’s concentration. The beast took advantage.
The orc, for that is what Deathclaw now understood it to be, jumped and kicked out with both feet. The blow landed on Deathclaw’s chest, blasting the air from his lungs, and sending him sprawling right into the path of the oncoming ogre.
Fist reacted quickly, jumping over the raptoid with mace raised, intending to strike the beast down with one mighty blow. The orc stepped aside, and as the mace carved the air where it had been standing, slashed out with his dagger, scoring the ogre’s hip.
Fist grunted and swung the mace in a vicious backswing that the orc ducked under. It darted in with dagger extended, but Fist brought his large oval shield around with his other arm and connected with its wrist, knocking the dagger from its hand. He raised the shield and kicked out with one heavy foot. The orc rolled to the side to avoid the attack and as it came back to its feet, Deathclaw’s tail barb was there to meet it.
He aimed for the orc’s eyes, but it turned it head at the last moment and the barb merely scraped along its hardened skin. It crouched and backed away quickly, its one remaining dagger clenched in its left hand, and watched as the raptoid and ogre advanced.
Finally Deathclaw had the reprieve he was waiting for. He reached back with his good arm and worked Star free from its sheath. Hopefully the enchanted blade would do more damage than his claws.
We rush it together, Fist announced. Though Deathclaw did not like taking orders, he didn’t disagree. It seemed the smartest course of action. He gave a mental nod and they charged forward.
The orc reared back and the vertical slit in the front of its face split open. To Deathclaw’s surprise, there was no nose or mouth within, just a toothless glistening maw. It lurched forward at Deathclaw and spewed a long stream of yellow liquid.
Deathclaw tried to dodge, but wasn’t fast enough. The stream spattered along the left side of his body. His scaled skin steamed and bubbled on contact with the substance. Deathclaw screeched. He dropped his sword and rolled in the mud of the riverbank, trying to quench the searing pain.
It turned and spewed another arc of acidic liquid at Fist. The ogre got his shield up just in time. The shield smoked on impact and he hoped that Bettie’s runes would hold up. The creature took advantage of the shield obscuring Fist’s view. It ran forward and when Fist lowered the shield to continue his charge, the orc was already in front of him.
It slashed the dagger over the top of his shield, slicing the
tip of Fist’s nose. As the ogre flinched back, the orc grabbed the top edge of the shield, jumped up, braced its feet against the bottom of the shield and pulled back.
Fist, was caught off guard by the move. He tried to hold firm to the straps on the back of the shield but the orc had greater leverage. It wrenched his arm and ripped the shield from his grasp. It landed on its back and kicked the shield away before rolling to its feet.
The orc ducked a swing of Fist’s mace and stabbed out with the dagger, piercing the ogre’s forearm. Fist swung again. It countered. Fist realized that he was slowing down. Even with the increased speed the mace gave him, he wasn’t fast enough.
On his next swing, the orc ducked, then spun and kicked low, catching the back of Fist’s ankles. The orc’s weight wasn’t enough to knock the ogre from his feet, but it did knock him off balance. It then leapt up, launching its shoulder into his chest.
As Fist fell backwards, it reared back and opened its mouth slit ready to spit again.
Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) Page 41