by B J Hanlon
“Die mage.” Berka said.
Edin’s mouth dropped as he stared at the rounded tip. He couldn’t help it… it was brilliant. The thought brought his mind back around and he frowned. “You were the runaway mage today,” Edin said.
“A mage never wins...” Berka was still smiling and lowered his blade. “Come on, your ma will be upset.”
Edin hobbled over to grab his sword and ran his fingers down it. A few extra divots were added to the piece of oak. Battle scars from their training. They started walking back toward the village. Berka didn’t have to worry about a scolding, his father worked long hours and his mother was too busy with three younger siblings to ever worry where Berka had been.
There were points when Edin was jealous of his friend’s freedom. Edin had the manor, his own bedroom, a private tutor, and no worries about the next meal. But the lack of restrictions meant Berka could come and go as he pleased. The big boy was well liked by most—children, villagers, farmers. He would make eyes at the village women, grab an ale at the Dancing Crane, and chat with the local laborers. Somehow, he could make them all feel proud of their lives.
Edin’s mother owned much of the land surrounding Yaultan. So, the locals tended to treat him with respect not friendship. Most people seemed to be very careful around him as he was considered a noble, albeit a minor one and knew not his title if he even had one.
He looked over at Berka who still had a smug look on his face like he had the answer to some question that had been bothering Edin all day.
“So that… attack.” The move seemed as crazy as his own leaping slash through the air, but it worked.
“I call it the twisting snake.” Berka said.
Edin laughed.
When he took the slash, Edin was off balance, putting too much strength into the cut. He ran through it in his head, could he counter that? How had Berka kept his balance? The twist was so low, in a position that seemed impossible for the big man.
“That was—” Edin started.
“Breathtaking? Outstanding?”
Edin just nodded. “Where’d you learn that?”
“There was a traveler that came through town a week ago, a mage hunter. Not one of the Por Fen. He was dark skinned and from the southern islands. We chatted and he agreed to show me some moves, in preparation for my future career.”
“You’re still planning on joining then?” Edin said kicking a stick as they walked.
Berka nodded. “Three weeks till I’m eighteen, then I’m taking the first caravan to the Citadel. If they don’t accept me, it’s the army.”
Edin clenched his teeth at the thought of Berka leaving. Losing his best friend was going to be harder than losing his father. At least he never knew the old man. Berka’s dad looked after Edin sometimes and Uncle Rihkar tried when he was in town, which wasn’t often. How long had it been ten years? Fifteen? He could barely picture the man’s face.
Then there was Master Horston, Edin’s tutor. He either taught or supervised other part-time tutors to come in and teach Edin subjects he didn’t care about in order to prepare him for a university.
“Only a few months and you can join up,” Berka said. “Your ma can’t force you to… just leave. Find a caravan and disappear or take a raft like you’ve wanted to. Maybe you can swipe coin and get into the Justicar School.”
Edin smiled for a second. The stories of brave Justicars, like army officers of the Por Fen, riding into battle atop their huge warhorses running down abominations and their ilk keeping the world safe. They were always honored in life and in death.
Through the roofs of trees, he noticed the sun was almost completely gone now and a chill filled the air. Still smiling, Berka hopped on a fallen tree that straddled a small gully of decaying leaves. It creaked under his weight.
“Come on.” Berka said grinning.
Edin tested his ankle gingerly, it sent a current of pain. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up facing Berka. Holding onto one another, they jumped. As they landed the tree burst with a loud crack tumbling them forward into the embrace of a plump fern.
He felt scratches and a point jabbing his palm. Edin laughed as he pulled himself up and glanced at Berka a few feet away. He was on his back staring up, his mouth hanging open.
Edin raised an eyebrow. “You look like a ventriloquist dummy.”
Berka blinked, his mouth moved as if to find words. None came out.
His heart began to race, was he injured? Did he land on something? “Are you okay?” Edin said. Edin pushed himself to his feet and scrambled to his friend ignoring the throbbing. “What’s wrong?”
Berka didn’t answer, instead something wet oozed into Edin’s hair. It was warm but caused Edin to shiver.
With a slow purposeful movement Berka extended his index finger, pointing at something above them.
Edin looked. As black as night, they stalk their pray. If you spot it, run, run, run, far, far away.
Large unblinking black orbs were barely visible in the darkening night. The only thing he saw in the shiny mirror like eyes was a white form. It took him a moment to realize it was him. Edin swallowed. Despite not being able to see much, he knew that attached to the orbs was the misty black face of a crillio cat—a demon of the forest.
The breathing was silent, but he could smell it. Rotting flesh, putrid and eye-watering. His heartbeat quickened but he couldn’t move.
Slowly, the beast stood, spanning two thick tree limbs like a bridge, the front paws on one, the rear on another almost two paces behind. There were no pupils, so he wasn’t sure who the cat was looking at. Maybe both of them.
This was the first one he’d ever seen in the wild. A showman brought an emaciated beast through town with a traveling caravan years ago. It was caged and headed for Calerrat. Still, even behind the metal bars, its roar made his body tremble.
This crillio was bigger, as big as a horse with sleek black fur. His hands trembling, Edin couldn’t move his eyes from the animal. He felt that if he did, he’d be attacked, torn to pieces and would die in agony. It was said they like to keep their pray alive while they eat.
“We need to run,” Edin whispered barely getting his words past his own mouth. He couldn’t see Berka but hoped his friend could move.
He ran through possibilities in his mind. The river wasn’t a getaway, the animal could swim and even if it didn’t kill him, the cold water would. He estimated they were a half mile, maybe less, from the manor. Between here and there, the animal could easily eviscerate them. A shiver rolled down his spine as he realized there was no way they’d both escape.
The cat lazily eyed them, its tongue lashing out and running over the thick finger-length fangs that hung from its upper jaw.
Their eyes stayed locked as his mind raced. The route back to the manor was nearly parallel to the river over difficult terrain. Maybe if he got close enough to the manor and started screaming, the guards would come running. Could it work? If he didn’t make it, or if Berka didn’t, maybe some folks in the town would round up a hunting party and try to take revenge. The thought didn’t comfort him.
“We have to run,” Edin repeated, “you go right, I’ll go left.”
He saw Berka nod his head out of the corner of his eye. Edin took a deep breath, then another. He had to sprint.
The large beast yawned and then pushed back on its haunches purring in its stretch. It knew it didn’t need to rush. This would be a pleasant surprise for the cat, two foolish humans wandering into its maw. As far as Edin knew, no one ever caught one in its den. If someone did, they most likely didn’t live to write a summary on their findings.
For a few moments, it seemed that only his mind was working. “Run,” he said more to himself than Berka. His legs were like weights, the ground was holding him still like the base of a granite statue.
The shiver slipped down his body nearly buckling his knees. Edin clenched his jaw and forced his legs to tighten. He strained his feet and felt the left boot move a li
ttle, then a jolt ran through him and he leapt toward the river as if to free himself from the restraints of the earth. Edin landed in a bush, the branches grabbing at his clothes. He pulled himself away and ran.
The crashing of branches sounded somewhere off to his right. He hoped it was Berka cutting through the forest. His friend was faster than Edin.
A quick thought, the beast is chasing Berka, went through his head. It gave him hope for a moment before he realized what he was wishing.
His hands shook as he gripped a tree trunk and twisted past it. He jumped over dead limbs, crashed through ferns, and vaulted thorn bushes. He leapt off a rock and grabbed a tall branch using his momentum to swing himself ten feet to an open patch of dirt. He stumbled slightly, bracing his fall with an open hand and kept his feet moving. The blood pumping through his ears was so loud he couldn’t tell where anything was. Even the river was silent. He could only focus on what was ahead, what he had to do. Keep running.
The moon was beginning to appear lighting up the forest with silver shadows. He felt leaves and branches rush past his legs. Thorns grabbed him, tearing at his trousers. Edin’s chest was pounding as breath crashed in and out of his lungs. A long dead tree appeared in front of him. Edin slammed a hand on the fallen log and vaulted over it as the cracking echoed through the forest. There was no sound behind him, or if there was, he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own body’s exertion.
Another thick branch appeared at head height in front of him. He tucked his head and felt it skim across his scalp, the bark snagging loose hairs and ripping them free.
A human voice yelped from his right. Berka.
He glanced toward the sound but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. His body almost seized a second later when the gut piercing roar from the murderous cat echoed through the forest.
His legs seemed to slow on their own. Edin knew, it wasn’t after him. Instantly, he felt dread for his friend, fear for himself.
Edin still ran south with the ravine’s edge to guide him. If he reached the edge of the forest, he knew the manor was only a hundred yards south. Trees began to look familiar; one he’d climbed hundreds of times as a child, another he attacked like a practice dummy with his fake sword.
Edin wasn’t far. He stopped and glanced in Berka’s direction. His mind was flashing with thoughts of flesh being ripped away by the pure white fangs of the cat. Without thinking, Edin started sprinting in that direction.
An oak sprang up in the gloom, seemingly sprouting before him. Edin slipped off to the right, his hands scraping against the rough bark.
Cracking branches and high-pitched shrieks came from somewhere ahead. Just behind it were loud thumping feet and crashing foliage as the beast tore through the brush. Edin could feel its enormous paws stomping on the ground like the beat of a war drum. Berka was headed toward the manor, right?
No, not the manor. Edin could see the break in the trees, moonlight pouring over the patchy ground.
Berka cried out, his voice held fear like a torture victim about to feel the tools of the tormenter. A moment later, it was followed by a gut-piercing roar. Edin’s eyes widened. His legs were pushing him toward the sound, his heart racing.
He leapt through a long-leafed bush into the clearing and his legs froze. The cursed ruins stood in front of him.
He’d only ever seen in through the brush. There were at least twenty crumbled stone blocks littering the clearing. To one side was a L-shaped wall nearly ten yards tall. He’d noticed carvings of men and animals on one side, but never was bold enough to actually inspect them up close.
Edin was on a dirt patch. Tiny sprouts of grass or ground cover peaked its way into the clearing but nothing of note grew.
Supposedly, it was dead land from the time the wicked magi ruled. Stories told of the hauntings of shimmering ghosts, wraiths as some called them. The stories stated they were ghosts of men or women who lost their lives without accomplishing a task. Their spirits remain until the task was completed.
He saw none and for some reason, everything was silent.
A roar shocked him awake. Fear flooded him, Edin turned back toward the forest when out of the corner of his eye he saw something hurtling toward him. A large deathly white body was tossed into the middle of the clearing a few feet in front of Edin. It skidded to a stop a pace before him.
Edin glanced back at where it’d come from. The forest was silent. He looked back to the body, to his friend.
Berka’s eyes were wide, there was a life to them but there was no movement except slow blinks. It was as if he were paralyzed. Blood pooled out around his right shoulder. Berka’s lips moved but no noise came out.
Edin dropped to a knee next to him and grabbed Berka’s arm. A soft groan echoed through the silent ruins. “Come on buddy, get up.” No movement. “Berka, we need to go.”
Still nothing. Edin glanced back toward the silent trees. He could feel the beast’s eyes glaring at him through the thicket.
He tugged at the arm and struggled to pull the dead weight. Not dead, he thought… not dying. He stopped in the crook of the L. It was the most protection possible. Edin looked around, it wouldn’t be enough. They were doomed. Edin knew it, the crillio knew it.
Edin’s chest pounded, as he leaned back against the cold rock. He slid down the wall, crouching on the balls of his feet. Still no sound but his own beating heart and Berka’s shallow breaths. It scared him worse than anything. No wind pushing through the trees, no insects buzzing about. He would’ve liked to hear something normal—a squirrel, a rabbit, birds chirping or owls hooting.
Edin blinked back tears, and he barely noticed the shaking of his hand.
Beyond the edge of the clearing, all was silent and still. His heart beat started slowing, maybe it was gone? Maybe it too wouldn’t enter such a place as this.
Edin swallowed and began shaking Berka. Getting no response, he slapped him. “Snap out of it buddy,” Edin said. “We can’t stay here…”
Leaves rustling somewhere to his left silenced him. Edin’s stomach dropped. He could’ve kept going, could’ve gotten away and saved himself. Somehow, it seemed that the crillio knew he’d stop for his wounded friend.
Townsfolk and travelers all said the crillio beasts were smart. A lot smarter than the average house cat whose excitement was finding scraps on the ground, chasing a dot of light from a crystal, or hunting mice through the manor.
Edin forced himself to stand.
It crept out as if from the shadows like some dark underworld monster. In the moonlight, the black cat’s fur almost glowed. The moon reflected in its eyes like giant white pupils. The effect seemed to make Edin’s limbs freeze.
Breath, he thought as he pulled out his wooden sword. The cat started toward the right then stopped and circled left. Edin stepped between Berka and the beast.
The blunt tip began shaking slowly at first, then faster. He knew it wouldn’t do any damage, it wouldn’t stop what was coming. There was nothing he could do. Edin’s life would end in the maw of the beast.
No, he thought. He’d get out of this, he needed to concentrate. The beast was fast, but it couldn’t change directions as quick as a man. His shaking hands fought his will to keep the weapon moving in tandem with the beast. Edin slid to the side keeping himself between the two trying to stay on the balls of his feet.
He wondered what it was thinking, what was going through that massive brain. Its head was nearly twice the size of Edin’s.
The crillio padded the ground and turned back, its eyes never leaving as them. It roared, the putrid breath made Edin gag.
Why wouldn’t it attack? Blood was rushing through his head so rapidly he couldn’t think.
The cat stopped in the lee of the wall hiding in the thin shadow. It pushed back on its haunches and seemed to blend back into the shadows.
Edin took a breath, his arms shook. The crillio was readying to pounce. “Berka, run.” Edin whispered, though he could barely hear the words himse
lf.
No answer, he wasn’t even sure if his friend somewhere behind him was alive.
Edin couldn’t take his eyes off the shadow. He could barely discern the beast in the darkness. Would it kill him instantly or keep him alive for a later snack? Or did it just want Berka and was wondering what to do with the human standing between him and his meal?
It was not a good spot for someone who hoped to preserve his own life. His legs quaked and all resolve started pouring out like a knife in a waterskin. He wasn’t a warrior, he was a young man without any skills or talents. To kill the crillio, it would take at least half dozen heavily armed soldiers or a Justicar.
Edin quivered, a few seconds of life left. He screamed. “Berka, get up you big oaf, run!” He saw the white fangs explode toward his head. Get out of the way. It was all he was thinking. He had to jump but the instant he was about to leap, he knew he was too late. A second late, a half a second. It didn’t matter. The beast was dice him up.
Then, everything seemed to slow down.
Edin nearly crumbled but somehow leapt to the side as far as he could.
A burning, shredding pain caught his arm. Edin screamed and dropped. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. His entire arm seemed to go numb for a second. The crillio roared above him as air surged past him.
Edin landed on his side just before one of the cracked boulders. He wanted to curl up and hope for a quick end. The cat was probably already on its way back for the kill. Don’t die like a child.
How could he not? He was a child, barely a man.
Then he heard a slow, fearful moan. Berka.
Somehow, he looked back and saw the crillio twisting in the air still trying to swipe at Edin. Red droplets hung in the air. Edin rolled to his side and reached his knees. The thick legs of the crillio were twisted up as it hit the ground.
Then everything sped up, the beast landed, tumbled over itself grunting as it rolled onto its side for just a moment.
He had seconds to get away, run for the trees.
His eyes focused on Berka and he noticed tears running down his friend’s face. Berka was helpless, motionless between Edin and the beast. He couldn’t leave him. They both would die. At least they’d go together.