by Deck Davis
And then it stopped.
Tame failed.
What was going wrong? Why couldn’t he tame things anymore?
There was no time to think about it because the clinx leapt toward them, covering more distance in one jump than should have been possible, its claws stretched out like dirt-covered blades and aimed at Charlie’s neck.
Acting on instinct, he swept his hands out in a horizontal line in front of him and cast Ice Shield. Mana crackled in his arms and travelled to his hands, where it turned freezing cold. Shards of ice left him, piecing together bit by bit to form a barrier in front of him.
The clinx crashed into his ice barrier, hitting the solid blocks and roaring in pain. The shield cracked, sending a shudder through Charlie’s shoulders. He tensed his legs, readying for the second attack. The clinx leapt again, and this time the shield broke. Shard of ice splintered into his face, scratching his skin.
Flink dug her spear into the ground and then forced her weight onto it and jumped, using it as a pole vault. She made an arc in the air and landed on the clinx’s back shell.
The clinx tried to shake her off. As it jerked violently side to side, its claw slashed cross Charlie’s thigh, spreading burning agony through him. He stumbled forward, and another claw flew his way, aimed at his face.
Longtooth pulled him back just as the claw reached him. Biting through the pain, Charlie focused his mana again and let a spell build inside him. He felt flames in his fingertips, and he shot six arrows of fire at the creature. These flaming bolts of mana left his fingertips and hit home, four of them smashing into the shell lining its shoulders before fizzling out, leaving black scorch marks on top of it.
His arrows hadn’t done much. They hadn’t slowed it down, they hadn’t even worried it. He was going to have to get up close if he wanted to do any damage.
The clinx shook Flink off its back. As soon as she hit the ground, it stabbed a claw deep into her shoulder. She screamed and dropped her spear.
Charlie scrambled forward and grabbed the collar of her shirt, dragging her out of reach of the animal. With her out of harm’s way, he grabbed her spear and used it the way a lion tamer would wield a chair, jabbing it forward to keep the creature out of reach.
This was a hell of a position to be in. The demented crab wasn’t going to leave them alone, and it was taking on the three of them without any trouble. If they ran, it’d catch up to one of them and then scissors their flesh into pieces. Then again, if they hurt it, all it would do was draw more clinx-crabs to the area, and possibly back to camp.
Should they run? Or should they risk killing it?
Longtooth answered the question when he drew his bow and let an arrow loose, and there was a sickening pop as the arrowhead pierced the clinx’s eyeball. It thrashed side to side now, swiping at the air without caring to aim, its razor claws clacking open and shut.
Charlie made sure Flink was out of reach, and he gathered his mana again. The more time he had to concentrate, the more will he could put into his spells and the better they were, but he only had seconds now.
He cast his spell out. Another volley of scorching arrows left his fingertips, each making a whoosh in the air, falling in an arc and peppering the clinx’s face. Fire spread fire along its fur, before dying out when the flames met its shell.
The clinx was torn between rage and fear now, simultaneously backing away but still swiping with its claws. The stench of burned hair was strong enough to gag on, and Charlie felt it stick to the back of his throat.
Gritting her teeth, Flink got to her feet. She grabbed her spear and approached the clinx, the gnomeness of her face showing in her angry look. She sidestepped left to avoid swinging claws, and then stabbed the clinx in the side, grunting as she drove the spear tip into its flesh.
The clinx’s legs buckled. First its left leg, and as then as it tried to keep balanced, its right leg gave way and it hit the ground head first. It cried out, a gurgling, blood-filled sound that came not from a predator but a wounded creature. Its back legs kicked out twice, and then it was still.
Charlie took two deep breaths. Rain fell on his face, and his wounded thigh burned, the pain spreading through his leg and to his belly. Adrenaline washed through him, and there was so much of it that it set him on edge.
Something growled in the distance, and then another growl joined it, until soon a dozen clinxes cried into the night, drawn by the pheromones of their fallen kin.
It was turning out to be a busy morning, and he still hadn’t found something to eat.
Chapter Two
There was no time to take the clinx corpse with them. It weighed too much to carry as it was, and its brethren were coming so there was no time to butcher it. Cursing his missed opportunity, Charlie grabbed Flink.
“Can you run?”
“I can’t feel anything. I’m numb.”
“You’re going into shock. We have to go, now. Longtooth, help me keep her steady.”
As more growls filled the air, rising above the sounds of the wind and the rain, they headed in the direction of their camp. Charlie labored through the pain in his thigh, gritting his teeth with every step, driven on by the utter terror of the howls behind him.
The snarls grew louder with each minute, and soon they heard the clinxes’ feet pounding on the stony ground, mixing with the clack-clack of claws to make a sound only furious cat-crabs could manage. He tensed his shoulder, expecting once of them to leap on him.
As their camp loomed close and he saw the charred remnants of their last fire, cramp ripped through his thigh, and his legs buckled beneath him. He fell to his knee, smashing it into the ground. Pain sang in his leg, hot and flaring, and he clutched his knee as if that would make it go away.
Something crashed into him, knocking him onto his stomach. He made sure his dagger was locked in place and twisted around. He was going to stab outwards, when a tongue slurped across his beard.
Relief flooded through him. It was Apollo, the chimera he’d tamed. “Let me up, boy,” he said, gently pushing his pet away.
The lovable beast backed away, his tongue hanging from his lion mouth, his serpent-like tail swishing back and forth. His fur was wet, and this made the arrow-shaped marking on his side stand out even more.
Apollo was a creature called a chimera, who used to live near Flink’s village. The chimera were a fearsome mixture of a lion and a serpent that even a lunatic would have given him a wide berth. Sometimes that made Charlie worry, because if even a lunatic was smarter than him, what did that make him?
But Apollo was a softie. He always had been, even before Charlie had officially tamed him. Now, this hulking mass of muscle and softness saw the wound on Charlie’s thigh, and he let out a whining sound.
When Charlie looked at his thigh, all the pain he had pushed back so he could escape hit him in full force, a burning orchestra of hurt trembling through his leg. As well as that, his finger stung, and he realized he’d cut himself on his dagger as he ran. He locked the dagger back into the blade switcher on his wrist.
It was only as the adrenaline left him that he realized he was shaking. Although he felt cold, his forehead was covered in sweat, and beads of it dripped into his beard. He kept imagining the clinx prowling toward him, its razor claws pointed at his neck. He saw the images of it tearing apart the orx with a cruel efficiency, he heard flesh ripping, and remembered the smell of blood in the air.
He wasn’t cut out for a world like this. He’d thought the chimera were terrifying, with their lion bodies packed with solid muscle, but the clinxes were something else. He felt like ever since getting to the island he’d been sitting on a peak of terror, watching every movement out of the corner of his eye.
If he wasn’t made from the right stuff to survive here, why did he carry on with it? Why not just go home, go to his apartment – even if it was pretty lonely – and crack open a beer?
If only. Larynk had brought him to this world, and he wouldn’t send him aback. The qu
estion was, why?
Larynk acted like it was some kind of game; that he brought Charlie here so he could become an adventurer and earn a legacy, but that wasn’t true. Larynk needed him for something else, he was sure of it, but the God of Corn was tight-lipped. Charlie didn’t have any choice but to go along with it for now; to survive, to get stronger, and wait for an opening. To get some kind of leverage on Larynk.
Where was Larynk, anyway? When Charlie looked, he couldn’t see the god. With a shock, he saw shapes prowling around the camp. They were the clinxes, and he counted eight of them. They moved in a circle around the camp, their gazes never leaving Charlie. If one of them was scary, then a pack of the evolutionary monstrosities was downright terrifying.
He flicked a blade into place out of instinct, and he bit back on the pain and tiredness. Then, he checked himself. He wouldn’t need to fight yet.
Flink, not showing any sign of pain, walked toward the creatures, holding her spear in her hand, her half-gnome face set in a scowl. With her mixed parentage of a gnome and human she was sometimes beautiful, sometimes scary. It depended how the light hit her, and what kind of mood she was in. She had an attitude, but her whole persona was undercut with such an aura of warmth that it was impossible not to like her.
She stopped in front of a clinx. It leapt at her, only to crash into an invisible field of energy. Flink didn’t even flinch. She kneeled against the ground just two feet away from it.
The clinxes went into a frenzy at the sight of her, tussling with each other to get close, some growling and others roaring, smashing the air with their claws. No matter what they did, they couldn’t get close to her. An invisible barrier held them back.
Charlie was beyond grateful that the half-gnome was with them, especially now. With her botanical and alchemical knowledge, she’d scavenged enough ingredients on the island to make a potion. She had spread it in a circle around their camp, and the potion acted as a defence, the herby mixture somehow combining to create a barrier.
It was a precaution they’d taken on every hunting trip, since one or two people always stayed back at camp. Usually it was Larynk and Papa Gully, since Larynk was working on crafting a new boat, and Papa Gully was too old to walk for far.
He eyed Flink, holding his breath, hoping for good news. She left the edges of the camp and headed toward him.
“How are our defences?” he said.
“I’m gonna spread some more, Newchie. They won’t leave us alone, not now we killed one of their clan.”
“How much potion do we have left?”
The grimace on her face said it all.
He envied how little fear she showed even up close to the creatures. Potion barrier or not, Charlie wouldn’t have wanted to get up close, especially now that his taming skill had left him.
What was going on with that, anyway? Ever since they’d gotten to the island, he couldn’t tame as much as a bug. What was stopping him?
Maybe it was his own intentions. Back when he’d tamed Apollo, he’d done it because the chimera was wounded, and Charlie wanted to help him. Here on the island, he’d only tried taming things with the hope of eating them. Maybe his empathy was the answer – when he lost his empathy, he couldn’t tame things.
If their defences were running out, and if he couldn’t tame things, then he needed to take care of himself. He stretched his legs out in front of him and inspected the damage.
His thigh flared in pain again, breaking him from his thoughts. It was a nasty wound; his skin was peeled back to show his flesh, and blood welted over and onto his leg. It sent a tremor of nausea through him. He’d never been good with blood. Back home, the worst thing he had to deal with was a headache, and a couple of pills sorted that out. All the ibuprofen in the world wouldn’t help with the cut across his leg.
He gathered his mana in him to cast a healing spell, only to find that nothing happened. His arms felt light, and the only sensation inside him was the pounding of his pulse, still on edge with the growls of the clinxes at the edge of the camp.
He checked his mana to find that he was empty. Great.
Flink winced when she saw his thigh. She went over to the long-extinguished camp fire. Next to the charred wood were the husks of roasted frogs and a couple of mice. It was slim pickings on the island, and at first Charlie had been thankful to have a god with him. When he asked Larynk to conjure them some food, he refused. He said he needed all his power to get them off the island, and he couldn’t spare even a fraction of it.
Flink returned with a vial of potion. Her leather bag had survived their shipwreck, and with it were some of the potions she’d prepared. That had been a godsend so far; Charlie especially loved her stamina potions, which replenished his always-depleting energy on their hunts.
She kneeled in front of him. “This is going to sting, Newchie,” she said.
“Can’t be worse than it already is.”
She poured yellow liquid onto his thigh, and the burning of a thousand angry suns spread through him, sending tremors of agony all the way through his body until he doubled up on the ground, muttering to himself to get it to stop.
“What a big baby. You can grow as big a beard as you like, but it doesn’t make you manlier, does it?”
“Spoken like someone who didn’t get their leg carved open by a cat crab,” he groaned.
He sat up, gritting his teeth against the stinging in his thigh. He risked a look down and saw that the potion was working; the blood had stopped, and the edges of his wound had knitted together.
“Thanks,” he told her. “But you better fix your shoulder, too.”
It worried him that she wasn’t complaining. It was a nasty wound, and it should have hurt like hell. If she was in shock, then things were going to get bad. He took his coat off and put it over her.
“I’m fine, Newchie,” she said. “Really. I used some potion already.”
Longtooth walked toward them. Although he was a giant rat, he usually walked on two feet except when he got excited and he dropped onto all fours. It was as though he constantly battled against his rat instincts, and he forget to pretend when he got emotional. He was eager, naïve, and sickeningly positive.
Even so, he’d matured a lot lately. Charlie had met him in an underground mole lair around twenty miles away from Flink’s village. Longtooth came from sentient rat parentage, but, like Charlie’s, his parents were dead. Maybe that was why Charlie had let him travel with him. Longtooth was a kindred spirit in a way, but with a big difference; Larynk had basically forced Charlie into this adventure, while Longtooth had longed for it all his life.
It wasn’t the nicest of bonds to share, having no parents. Charlie’s had died before he got out of his teens. Technically, at least. He didn’t have the court declare his mum legally dead until he was twenty, but for him, she died when he was thirteen.
She’d gone missing on the night of one of the worst storms he’d ever seen. If you went back to his home town and asked the folks about Storm Ezekiel, they’d remember. It was the most destructive one they had in years; that meant crazy winds tugging trees from their roots, smashing windows, even flipping a double decker bus on its side. Charlie’s mum had been driving home from a three-day trip seeing a client, when she got caught up in it.
She’d been heading to their house when it hit, but she never made it. It wasn’t until the winds stopped howling and everyone crept back up their basement stairs and out from under beds to check the wreckage, when they got the full picture of what the storm had done. The death count reached an eighty-three eventually, and that was just the ones they knew about.
Like too many others, they never found Charlie’s mum. They found her car, the driver door wrenched clean off as if she’d tried to get out, but they never found her. So, Charlie and his dad searched for her for years after, but when seven years had passed – the minimum time to wait – he needed closure, and his mum’s memory needed peace. So, he filed a ‘declaration of presumed death’, and tha
t was that. Dad had passed three years prior and he had no brothers, no uncles, no aunts, so Charlie was alone.
Well, past was past. Dwelling on it wouldn’t do anything, and he wasn’t alone now, was he? He had Flink and Longtooth, and the rat was looking at him with concern.
“Take a seat,” said Charlie. “When you stand, I feel like I have to stand. And I really want to just sit on my ass for a minute.”
Longtooth flopped to the ground and settled beside Charlie. “What happened back there?” he said.
Charlie flinched. He didn’t want to be reminded about his taming attempts, because it made guilt flicker in his stomach. He’d failed them. They were going to go hungry again thanks to him and not only that, they had a pack of pissed-off clinxes skirting around the camp, waiting for Flink’s potion defence to fail.