The Final Life

by Andrew Mowere

  ***

  The last area, being in the heart of the forest, Held the biggest wolverine the two had encountered thus far. It was fully enlarged, making it about three times as big as a normal animal, and its claws were huge, about as large as knives. Its fur was matted with blood and the beast’s calls came to be more like feral roars than anything. These roars made Glint wince with their volume, and he was forced to lower his enhanced sensory abilities through his inner lightning. The beast was apparently also enraged with the pain of its transformation, as its glowering coal like eyes declared, daring any living creature to come close to its self proclaimed territory. Glint saw that a pack of wolves had tried. Their scattered carcasses bore bloody testimony.

  Worst of all, this one had smelled them coming and was waiting for the two, crouched down in expectant anger in the middle of the bloody clearing filled with animal corpses. It growled in threat. This animal had gone completely feral, Glint thought to himself.

  “I think it’s talking to you,” Azrael joked, but Glint wasn’t in the mood for humour. Silently he focused, and in about ten seconds he was in thinner armour than usual, spiked in strategic locations, and armed with a spear, with rings running along one side of the iron shaft, as well as a round curved shield for good measure. Last came his barbute, and he never changed its shape. The Y shaped helmet was perfect. He grimaced at the necromancer’s sly smile, knowing that he really needed to ask for it. He didn’t want to, but Azrael was still keeping silent.

  “Oh fine,” he exclaimed. His voice rang louder than he intended and Glint ended up startling the beast. The thing waited in a circle of red snow surrounded by the shattered stumps of trees it had destroyed in its frenzy, and Azrael was mucking about. If only the creature knew, he was sure it would rush the necromancer immediately. Glint put the pleasant image of Azrael being chased up a tree, with his tattered cloak fluttering, to the side. “Help me if it seems dangerous...please...” The last word was uttered as low as possible, but Azrael wouldn’t let it go. He put his hands to his ear, feigning confusion. “I said please!” repeated Glint, and the necromancer gave him the thumbs up sign as well as a grin. With that sorted, Glint advanced on the creature, feeling reassured at Azrael’s presence behind him. No matter what, he knew the necromancer was truly capable and trustworthy.

  As long as the man didn’t waste too much time enjoying himself.

  Glint was less than fifty meters away from the wolverine when it began to move towards him, expecting a harsh fight. At least the beast wasn’t used to humans, he thought as he noticed a lack of manmade scars. He hoped it hadn’t had too much time to get used to its new body. He hooked his shield, a rounded affair with a stud in the middle, on his left arm, leaving his hand free. He let energy fill his body to the brim.

  He was closer now, not more than twelve feet from it. The warrior dashed forward in one fluid motion and as he did, noticed the wolverine’s right shoulder twitch as its weight went on its hind legs. Glint ducked downwards, crouching suddenly on all fours like a cat, and the telltale whistle of air above him told the warrior that he had just avoided getting his face ripped off. He found himself looking at its back leg. From its position he knew the wolverine was going to either land on him or maul him with its fangs.

  The warrior jumped straight up in the air, spear pointed upwards and clutched in his right hand. He grabbed its end with both hands, maximizing his reach, and smashed down with as much power as he could, hoping to catch the muscles connecting the wolverine’s neck to its shoulder.

  Glint hit only air though, as the large animal, a giant even by human standards now, had stepped forwards with surprising speed, causing a wave of snow to fly upwards. The thing was larger than a horse and could still move like that.

  Still, the warrior simply let the momentum of the failed blow carry him into a somersault, landing deftly behind his opponent, whose black and white fur was matted with dry blood. He continued into a forward roll, which was slightly awkward because of the spear, but was able to avoid the wolverine’s turn and bite. Now a safe distance away, the two eyed each other. The only sound that could be heard was Azrael clapping from a safe distance.

  “Take this seriously, will you?” Glint groaned as the man whooped, throwing a fist into the air.

  The necromancer laughed silently. Glint could tell even without looking at him. He knew Azrael was chuckling, deep in his guts. “I’ll be sure to save you if you run into any real danger,” The man reassured Glint.

  The warrior muttered darkly to himself. This one fight was far more dangerous than all the fifty others combined. It had been a huge help that this animal’s brethren were disfigured by growth. It had gotten them unbalanced. This thing was in as much control of its movements as Glint was. Added to that, the youth was pretty sure this creature could slice through his armour with those claws and the momentum it had displayed. He didn’t have the safety of just depending on his armour for protection and diving into the offensive. He had to fight smart, like he had against Alfjötr and the other wolverines.

  Suddenly he got an idea. He knew what he needed to do. Thinking about Alfjötr had sparked his imagination as well as his anger.

  Leaping farther back, he watched the wolverine carefully as it growled once more, craning its neck this way and that with its hideous muscles. His plan depended on how well he knew its movements. Despite it being an animal, it still fought, and as such, Glint knew he could combat the thing strategically. Inside him lightning crackled reassuringly.

  After avoiding a few more of the beast’s attacks, Glint started to see a pattern. Feeling ready, he charged at it, kicking up snow behind him. Keeping both of his hands on his spear, he eyed the monster, trying to match its timing.

  When the moment was right, Glint lifted up his spear, its butt end in his right hand and his left grabbing the shaft closer to the tip, he kept it diagonal and in front of his torso, so that when the attack came, he would be ready.

  With a roar, the wolverine swiped down at him, and Glint kicked off with his right foot into a clockwise turn, angling his spear well enough that one of the claws went right into the loops he had created in the weapon. Continuing his turn, the warrior pulled with his right hand and pushed with his left, putting enough force to both snap something in the monster’s appendage as well as take its claw right off. Facing the monster again, Glint ran past it as fast as he could, stabbing its rear leg as he went. It roared tremendously and fell over to the side.

  Panicking, Glint leapt over the beast, which lay flat on its back, making noises of anguish. He landed on its white belly and angled his spear for a stab through the throat, ignoring its pitiable state. This was going to settle it. So focused he was on his target that Glint missed its other paw, which suddenly whipped out and struck him with the force of a hurricane, taking him clean off his feet high up and dropping him next to the wolverine. He was completely winded by the blow and his vision went hazy, but he could sense the thing turning over him.

  It rolled over, almost crushing Glint under its weight. He looked the beast right in the eyes and knew he could expect as much mercy from it as it would have gotten from him. At least it’s been a good fight, the warrior thought. He exposed his neck as he saw a powerful right paw rise up, its knife like claws looking quite menacing. The beast snarled in its hideousness, for even balanced out, the transformation seemed to give it great pain.

  Instead of coming down like a thunderbolt, the wolverine’s paw fluttered down gently. Glint didn’t even feel the impact of it landing on his chest. It felt more like a snug hug than anything else, but he could smell the creature painfully well from this distance as it slumped on him. It reeked of animal and blood, he thought to himself as he tried to think of why the monster would do something like this. It couldn’t be some sense of rivalry that made the beast think Glint was too important to just kill off... could it?

  Just then, the warrior looked over to the animal’s face and noticed how vacant its open eyes loo
ked. It was still alive and even blinked occasionally, but it was as if the creature wasn’t really aware of anything anymore, or just didn’t care. It didn’t even look like it was in pain from where he stabbed it or broke its right paw. Then he heard the footsteps coming towards him and he understood.

  “So this is what it looks like when you get serious, eh?” he proclaimed to no one in particular.

  From behind the wolverine a head with neck’s length of wavy hair appeared, and the necromancer laughed. “Well, you could say that, but who knows if it’d be true?”

  The man helped Glint up slowly, looked him over for injuries, and then said, “Finish it off, Glint. It isn’t in pain, but I still wouldn’t wish slow starvation upon the poor thing.”

  Glint complied, stabbing the last wolverine through the heart and putting it out of its misery. They didn’t need proof of killing this one, as he had enough trophies already to prove he had killed fifty wolverines, but he still pocketed the large smooth claw he’d broken off, which he found a ways off in the snow dirtied by blood and mud. He wanted to remind himself of his first true fight after truly understanding his abilities, as well as what the consequences of losing could be. With that done, he retracted his armour into his bracers, leaving him in his warm clothing and leather armour. Feeling slightly puzzled, the warrior asked, “How did you save me from so far away?” he asked Azrael, who had actually started back towards the town by now. The necromancer turned towards him in his black clothing standing out against the snow.

  “Users of physical arts have better mobility as an advantage against others. Magicians have longer range than even ranged physical artists, but their abilities usually take longer to have an effect. Psions are able to sense when someone tries to attack them, the same way you would see someone moving their shoulder before they punch you in the nose. It’s one of the reasons no one sphere of existence has more followers than the others, since none have any real advantage over the others. That and, of course, that people of talent seems to be divided equally among the three spheres, more or less.”

  As the man walked ahead of him in the devastated clearing of stumps and corpses, Glint realized that he needed to ask Azrael more questions. There was far too much the man took to be common sense.