Run faster then, Deathclaw sent, and sped up. The raptoid leaned forward, his tail extended out behind him. He moved with grace, jumping lightly over tree roots and fallen logs as he went.
Justan increased his pace. He suddenly wanted very much to beat the raptoid. Could it be done? Deathclaw was agile and quick, but did he have the stamina as he claimed? Justan knew he was similar to Gwyrtha in some ways as far as the way his body had been changed, but he didn’t have that same core of unlimited energy that the rogue horse had.
He caught up to Deathclaw, his legs churning as he dodged trees and watched the ground for obstacles in the growing morning light. Deathclaw’s dark eyes glanced over at him. The raptoid thought with the mind of a hunter. Justan could sense his mind assessing his stride, dissecting his movements. But Deathclaw’s conclusions were harder to read. Unlike Fist and Gwyrtha, he kept most of his thoughts below the surface of his mind. He still did not trust Justan enough to let him know what he was really thinking and no matter how curious he was, Justan did not pry. Sooner or later Deathclaw would learn to trust him.
You hold back, Deathclaw sent.
Justan jumped over a jutting rock and would have stumbled if he had not corrected his stride at the right moment. That’s how you run a distance race. I am saving some energy for the end.
Deathclaw gave a mental snort. You don’t know your own body. He sped up even more, surging ahead.
Justan nearly stumbled again as the raptoid’s thoughts sunk in. He had indeed changed much since leaving Reneul. He was older now; nearly twenty; a man grown. And his body had altered more with each bonding. He was taller, faster, stronger. His awareness of his body had increased as had his control over it. But how well did he know his limits? Justan suddenly realized that he hadn’t tested them. He had been pleased with the changes, but had been so focused on learning his magic that he had let farm work and light sparring do as training. Perhaps it was time to find out just what his body could do.
He leaned forward and increased his speed, arms pumping, legs churning. His heart rate increased. The increase in awareness that Deathclaw’s bonding had given him turned inward. Justan could feel each individual muscle expand and contract with every movement. He could feel the sweat bead on his skin. He was no longer chilled by the cold morning air even as it rushed in and out of his lungs. It was exhilarating.
He caught up to Deathclaw and passed him by, sending out a mental taunt as he did so. The raptoid seemed pleased and veered off into the trees outside Justan’s line of sight. Justan could still sense him though, darting through the forest and sharing in his enjoyment of the run.
Justan turned his focus to winning the race. Through a gap in the trees, he saw the hanging cliff face and judged that he was about three miles away. The speed of their progress was quite surprising. The pace he had set would have been a dead sprint back in his Training School days. He hadn’t run this fast since the day he encountered the Scralag during the stamina test.
The memory of that day loomed in his mind and Justan lost concentration for a moment. His foot caught on a tree root, sending him stumbling forward and he was barely able to keep his feet under him. He regained control but he could feel the frost encrusted scar on his chest now as if it were a lead weight slowing him down.
He had been trying not to think of the Scralag. With thoughts of the Scralag came memories of the way it had dragged itself out of his chest and the way it had eaten Kenn’s frozen heart. Just a few nights before, he had awoken sweating from a dream in which the creature had pulled itself free from his chest once again, but this time it was holding his own beating heart in its talons.
The Scralag was just one in a long list of nagging mysteries that had to be put on hold until after the academy was freed. Once it was over, perhaps he would seek Professor Locksher out again. He had been forced to leave the school before the wizard returned from his trip. Maybe his latest experience with the thing would help Locksher determine what it was. Justan wished desperately to be rid of it.
In the meantime though, he felt Deathclaw pulling away. The raptoid had found a stretch of level ground somewhere in the forest to his left. Justan refocused his attention on the race. So far he had just been running in a straight line towards the cliff, but the way was getting more congested with trees and undergrowth. He had to come up with a better strategy.
What did he have that Deathclaw didn’t? He had the stamina gained from bonding with Gwyrtha, but it didn’t seem like that was enough. He had strength from Fist, but this was a race . . . A thought occurred to him. Maybe there was a way to use that strength.
He increased his speed a bit more and watched for the next obstacle to appear. A thorny bush loomed in the distance. It was about chest high and Justan knew he had to time his move just right. He lengthened his strides, and just before the bush, he gathered both feet under him and let loose with a mighty jump, putting all his strength into it.
Before bonding with Fist, he never would have cleared the bush. This time he fared only slightly better. For a second he thought he was going to make it, but his feet caught in the thorns. Justan crashed down on the far side of the bush, landing chest first into the wet leaves, one foot tangled in the bush. The air exploded from his lungs and he gasped as he yanked his leg free.
Deathclaw sensed his crash. The raptoid was far ahead, but Justan heard his hissing snicker. Justan climbed to his feet and staggered forward. His vision swam and his legs burned from the deep gouges the thorns had left in his skin, but he didn’t dare stop.
Justan berated himself. He should have known it wouldn’t work. He was much stronger, but he was still human after all. He had imagined himself bounding through the woods, clearing obstacles like a deer, but Master Coal had warned him that the bond wouldn’t enhance his abilities beyond what a human body could achieve.
As soon as he had gathered his breath, he pushed himself harder. He had to make up ground, but the fall had exhausted him and the going was difficult. He knew that he could reach out to Gwyrtha and tap into her energy, but that would be cheating. He forced his body to move faster with pure willpower alone.
Justan kept on a straight path towards the hanging cliff and soon the woods opened up around him. He began to gain on Deathclaw and as the final half mile came into view, he knew he had a chance. Deathclaw’s easier route had taken him on a longer path and now they were both about the same distance from the finish. Justan smiled. The last stretch to the base of the cliff was on a slight slope and the trees were spaced far apart. It would all be about speed now.
In the distance he saw Deathclaw dashing through the trees. Justan put every last bit of energy he had left into one final sprint. He extended his body to the limit, pulse pounding, arms and legs pumping. He ran faster than he had ever run before and he could feel the raptoid pushing just as hard.
Deathclaw pulled ahead at the end and when Justan reached the cliff’s base, Deathclaw was waiting, hunched over, hands on his knees. It was the first time Justan had seen the raptoid breathing heavily.
You are faster than most humans. But I am the fastest, Deathclaw sent triumphantly.
“Not . . . even . . . close.” Justan walked a few feet away before collapsing on the ground. He rolled to his back and lay in the leaves, gasping. Next time you should try racing Gwyrtha.
Deathclaw cocked his head and looked down at Justan. You tried hard. Yet you are not angry at losing.
Justan smiled. I knew you would probably win. But I still wanted to see what my body could do.
Deathclaw thought about that for a moment, then asked, Why do you lay there before me? Leaders should not show weakness.
Why not?
Leaders must always look strong. It is the way of the pack.
“Things change,” Justan said.
The ways of the pack do not change, Deathclaw replied.
Justan sat up part way and leaned back on his elbows. “You have changed. You are not like other raptoids.”
&nb
sp; The wizard did this to me.
“Yes, but you have changed more since then,” Justan said.
I still follow the way of the pack.
“Really? What about the way you always climb trees? That isn’t what raptoids do. There are no trees in your desert memories.”
I have adapted. Raptoids adapt. If a raptoid wants to stay hidden, he stays between the dunes. If he wants to see far, he climbs atop the dunes. In trees I can do both.
“But why do you need to hide?” Justan asked.
Deathclaw cocked his head. Why would I wish to be seen? A raptoid on his own is . . . vulnerable. It is best if a lone raptoid hides.
“You are no longer alone,” Justan reminded. He hadn’t expected Deathclaw to fit in with the group right away, but it still bothered him that he didn’t socialize with the rest of them. “You have a pack. You have us. You are no longer vulnerable.”
Perhaps . . . Deathclaw sent, but the way the thought came across Justan knew that in a way, joining their group had made him feel even more vulnerable.
“And what about your sword?” Justan pressed. “Do raptoids wield swords?”
Another adaptation. Deathclaw replied and Justan sensed irritation stir within the raptoid’s thoughts. Why do you ask these things?
“I want to know you better,” Justan explained. You are a part of me now. I wish to know why you think the way you do.
If you want to know so badly, why not just search my mind? You could do that with your magic. It would be easier for you. Why not take my thoughts?
There was no emotion emanating from Deathclaw’s thoughts this time. Justan could not tell if he was serious or not. Your thoughts are your own. They belong to you. I wouldn’t take them without permission. I respect your wishes.
You lead the pack. The pack leader takes what he wants. Deathclaw genuinely seemed puzzled. You have done it before. In the beginning.
“I . . . I am sorry about that, Deathclaw. I was still learning and . . . I shouldn’t have done that.” Justan said with a twinge of guilt. “Can you forgive me for that?”
Deathclaw paused as he digested the meaning of Justan’s request. More weakness? Why do you ask this? Why does it matter what I feel?
“You are my bonded.” Justan explained and tried to send emotions conveying what that meant to him. You are a part of me and I am a part of you.
Deathclaw snorted, but Justan did not sense the same derision in the raptoids thoughts that he had felt earlier. I will think on this.
Justan laid back down and looked up at the giant slab of the cliff face that hung out over him. Its position seemed so precarious. It was as if at any moment the cliff could finally let go and collapse, crushing him. He resisted the urge to run out from under it.
He wondered how long the cliff had been like this. Looking closer, he could see years of vine growth hanging from the top of the cliff face, just now sprouting with new spring leaves. There were trees up there way above, rooted to the top of the slab and they didn’t stick straight out at an angle, like a tree would if it were fully grown when the slab tilted away from the cliff face. The trees had grown straight up, standing tall and reaching for the sun. That meant the slab had to have been hanging this way for decades. Still Justan knew the fall would come sooner or later. One small tremor of the earth or one torrential rainstorm, and the life of everything under the slab would be over.
In many ways it reminded him of the situation with those at the Battle Academy. Right now the forces were at a stalemate, but the end seemed inevitable. At any moment, Ewzad Vriil could give the command and his entire great army could descend. No matter how well prepared they were the numbers were just too overwhelming. Eventually they were going to be crushed.
He stood and walked out from under its hanging presence. The great need to act and act now rushed back over him. But how? What could they do? Master Coal was right. With their small group, they could never hope to break the siege.
Strike at their weak points, thought Deathclaw. The raptoid was still standing to the side and Justan hadn’t realized he was listening. That is how a pack brings down a large enemy. Weaken it until it can no longer stand, then go in for the kill.
Yes, I have thought of that. But this enemy is far too large. A wise pack would not take such a beast on. Justan replied.
If an enemy is too large, a pack waits. Wait until the enemy is weaker or hide until it leaves your territory.
Waiting was Master Coal’s preferred course of action. Wait and gather information. Wait until the army became hungry and fought amongst themselves. I am tired of waiting.
So am I. The wizard is still alive. Deathclaw said and Justan could feel his frustration.
What does a raptoid leader do when he is tired of waiting? Justan asked.
Deathclaw thought about it for a moment. He may attack anyway but with such numbers, his pack would die. A good leader will be patient and keep his pack from attacking something they cannot defeat.
This reminded Justan too much of his conversation with Master Coal the evening before. And what if a raptoid disagrees with his leader?
Deathclaw watched him with a calculating gaze. The raptoid could challenge the leader for control of the pack. They would fight and the winner would become the pack leader.
This line of thought was getting him nowhere. Justan focused his mind back on the real problem; the army of thirty thousand goblinoids surrounding the Battle Academy. Perhaps we have been looking at this wrong, he sent. We have talked about what a pack does when a large beast invades their territory. But what does a small pack do if a more numerous pack invades their territory? He sent a vision of the size and scope of the enemy they were facing.
Deathclaw shook his head. They must find a new territory or be destroyed.
But what if the territory is too precious to give up?
Deathclaw had a hard time grasping that concept. There is always another territory. A leader should keep the pack together and leave. Then he would seek out a territory owned by a weaker pack. He would attack and absorb the surviving members of the smaller pack, taking the territory for his own.
Thus also increasing the size of his pack. Justan nodded, then a smile spilled across his face. And if he continued to increase his pack, he could make it large enough that he could return and battle the enemy that invaded his territory!
That would work . . . perhaps, Deathclaw agreed, though he still didn’t seem to understand the importance of a single territory.
A plan began to gel in Justan’s mind. “Thank you, Deathclaw. This time with you has really helped.”
Helped? Deathclaw cocked his head again. I defeated you and told you the enemy could not be beaten.
“That’s right,” Justan said, feeling excited about their journey for the first time since the fight with Kenn. “You gave me exactly what I needed.”
He called out to Gwyrtha through the bond. Sweetie, I need a ride.
Chapter Six
You are far, Gwyrtha sent with a reproachful tone. Justan had awakened her, but that wasn’t what bothered the rogue horse. She did not like him to be far from her side. I come.
“Would you like to ride back to camp with me?” Justan asked Deathclaw.
Ride? Deathclaw snorted in derision. I will not ride her. A raptoid does not need such things to travel.
Justan’s eyebrows rose. This was the first time he had felt such a distaste for Gwyrtha coming from Deathclaw. “Do you have a problem with Gwyrtha?”
She . . . is part of the pack. Deathclaw looked away, his emotions betraying nothing more. I shall return on my own.
Justan watched Deathclaw trot back through the trees and wondered what was bothering him. He felt that he had come to understand Deathclaw much better over the last few days, but the raptoid was still a mystery in many ways. What reason could Deathclaw possibly have for disliking Gwyrtha? She was the sweetest creature in the world. Perhaps he should link the two together through the bond so that they could g
et to know one another . . .
He pushed his worries away. There was plenty of time to work out their differences. For now he needed to focus on developing his new plan and figuring out how to get Master Coal to agree to it. The wizard was usually willing to listen, but Justan feared he had pushed things too far the previous night.
Gwyrtha appeared a short time later. She ran from the treeline and stopped in front of him. He walked towards her, but she backed away, her emotions chiding him through the bond. You left.
Justan chuckled. “I’m sorry, Gwyrtha. I was just going for a run with Deathclaw.”
Without me.
You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. Justan sent. “And besides, you cheat when we run.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 9