Chapter 7
The Cruelest Claw
Come, Moon Howlers! As fast as fur can fly. -Wayden
--
"Scagazi!" Wayden shouted.
A pincer-like hand clamped onto Rif’s leg. The creature held tight, though the Tulkarian boy kicked and tried to pull away. Wayden focused, taking a breath to stay calm. What did he know about scagazi that could help? Bright lights blinded their compound eyes, but he practiced no Glower magic. Their exoskeletons made them hard to damage using physical means.
“Kolram can you control them?” Wayden asked.
"I cannot control or even speak to scagazi,” Kolram replied. “They are more insect than mammal. I could summon animals from the nearby forest, but then our secret would be known."
Wayden fought against an urge to flee towards safety, abandoning Rif. He’d turned his back on Quiet Darius. The shame he felt afterwards still haunted him. Kolram was right: if you want to be a hero, be one. He tightened his jaw. I’d rather die, than be a coward any longer. He lifted his scythe, and with a roar, charged towards Rif.
The Tulkarian boy was half submerged in a whirlpool of swirling soil. There was a patch of open flesh on the scagazi’s wrist its exoskeleton didn’t protect. Wayden aimed the scythe, the blade biting into the armor’s gap. Yanking his blade loose, a spray of blood sprayed in every direction.
Rif broke free, breathing heavily, eyes moist. "You s-s-saved me."
“I did, didn’t I?” Wayden thought excitedly.
“Stay calm. We aren’t out of this yet,” Kolram said.
Several scagazi burst through the ground. Spiked hair bristled like beards along their narrow faces. Anaz swung his sword, but the blade bounced off the monster's thick exoskeleton. The scagazi lunged at Anaz, but he dodged to the side. He swung again, sword whirring in an arc. This time it caught a gap in the scagazi’s armor and the monster went down with a crash. Two more charged at Anaz. A grim determination transformed the Ozac’s usual sly grin into a scowl.
“Beasts of Centuron,” Anaz hissed, as he swung his sword again. The metal cut deep into scagazi flesh. For each one killed, another seemed to sprout from the ground.
“We need to get out of here!” Wayden shouted.
A patch of dirt in front of them vibrated and swirled. A clawed leathery pincer burst through the earth, and then another and another, like a crop of death. Wayden spun, but a scagazi burst from the ground directly before him. He swung his scythe, but missed, managing only to decapitate a wheat stalk. The scagazi let out a shrill cry as it leapt towards him.
This is it mother, I'm coming.
A figure flew through the air, knocking the monster off Wayden. Wayden saw it was Kazor. The orphan might have been angry at Wayden for not standing up to Big Darius, but that didn’t stop him from saving Wayden. I need to find an eighth of the courage he has.
As Wayden found his feet, Kazor lost his. The scagazi grabbed Kazor's legs and yanked him into the ground. Kazor's eyes widened and he reached out in desperation. Wayden reached out his hand, fingertips brushing Kazor’s. Then Kazor was gone, yanked into churning soil. The pit sealed behind him, buried by his killers in a grave marked only by chunks of overturned soil. Wayden felt like his heart too was swallowed and buried. He’d failed Kazor, as he’d failed Nanny, his brother, and his mother.
"Grieve later," Kolram ordered. “Make sure Kazor didn’t die for naught.”
Wayden nodded, his jaw tightening. "There are wolves nearby.”
“If you cast the summons, the other orphans and peasants will see you. You'll be arrested.”
The soil simmered ahead of them. Then, as if hitting the boiling point, chunks of dirt erupted skyward followed by a scagazi. The orphans pivoted right. Another scagazi broke through the soil. They tried left, but again were blocked. The two boys and Big Darius were surrounded.
Big Darius sobbed. “We’re trapped. We’re wraithin’ trapped. We're going to die.”
Jagged mandibles clicked, as the scagazi slithered closer.
Anaz burst through the grain, sword flashing. He caught one of the scagazi full force. A second and a third fell to his blade. A surge of hope charged through Wayden, until a fourth scagazi grabbed the Ozac's feet. Wayden met Anaz's eyes and the Ozac smiled. "Until we meet again." And then he was pulled underground in a swirl of dirt.
Anaz, dead? He wasn’t a friend, but no one deserved a fate like that. ‘Until we meet again?’ What did that mean? Was it just bravado? One last mystery to leave Wayden’s head spinning?
The scagazis swarmed, their mandibles clicking as they encircled Wayden, Big Darius, and Rif. The creatures' thick, pointed tails swayed back and forth, as if to some inaudible drum beat. Big Darius swung his scythe, only to have the creature catch the blade and yank it from his hand.
“I’m going to use magic,” Wayden decided.
“I agree, you must do whatever is necessary to stop this menace from claiming more lives.”
Wayden dropped his scythe. Guided by Kolram, he moved his hands in semi-circles. His mind found a nearby pack of wolves. There were two dozen of them hunting in the forest near the fields. The words for the spell could be anything, but something rhythmic worked best. "Come, moon howlers. Beasts of the woods. I am the moon king. I am the sharpest tooth, the cruelest claw. You will come. Come!"
Big Darius edged backwards. "You- yer a witch!"
The pack leader's mind snapped into Wayden's control. How long would it take the wolves to get there? Something moved in the stalks of wheat. Handsome Darius emerged, a scagazi at his heels. He rushed towards Wayden, snatching the abandoned scythe. He turned and swung it, fending off death.
Handsome kept them at bay while Wayden chanted, “Come! With tooth and claw drive the monsters back to ground! Come! As fast as paws can leap! Come! As fast as fur can fly.”
The wolves raced through field of grain, leaping sheaves of wheat. The Source was dry upon Wayden's tongue and energy resonated from his chest.
“I’m not sure the wolves will get here soon enough,” Kolram said.
“Well if we die, at least we won’t be thrown into prison for using unauthorized magic.”
Big Darius stared, wide-eyed, at Wayden. "Please- don’t turn me into a newt.”
Wayden shook his head. They were surrounded by scagazi, and Big Darius was worried about being turned into a newt. Newts at least possessed enough sense to recognize who their enemies were.
Hurry, wolves. He felt like he was back at his burning manor, waiting for the Fire Guard and the dragon to drive the Sky Raiders away. Would this day end as tragically? For Kazor and Anaz, it already had.
Rif spread his arms and fingers, gesturing at the scagazi. He sang without a stutter, "Inside your treasure you keep. I take it from you, in one fell sweep."
Mists appeared at the mouth of the scagazi. The monster hissed, and writhed upon the ground. Its mist was thinner than the fogs Wayden had seen coming from the acolyte's lips, or the one Rif had pulled from the would-be rapist.
Rif’s eyes went black.
The scagazi’s mist floated off, the creature’s body falling still. Wayden had never witnessed anything killed by Soul-stealing firsthand before. It looked like an excruciating way to die.
"It wasn't pleasant," Kolram agreed. "There may be more scagazi coming. I suggest-"
Two scagazi cornered Wayden, drawing closer and closer. An acrid scent wafted from them. One of the scagazi leapt on top of him, bowling him over into a bed of wheat. The leathery monster clawed at Wayden's face. Spittle dripped from the creature's mouth.
"Rif!" Wayden called out.
This time, Rif spoke in Tulkarian, as he cast his spell. What he said, Wayden didn’t know, but the effect was obvious, as the mist streamed out of the scagazi’s mouth. Another scagazi leapt at Rif, but a ball of fur intercepted the scagazi mid-flight. Claws clashed with brown leather, bound together in skirmish, rolling in the dirt. Fangs, furred paws,
mandibles, and leathery pincers became one indistinguishable mass.
The scagazi seized control of the wolf and was about to deliver the death blow. Then its grip slipped, and the pack leader surged forward, jaw closing in a triumphant chomp. The wolf chewed and chewed, pausing only to smack his lips.
A dozen more wolves poured into the clearing, leaping at the oncoming scagazi. A wolf snapped a scagazi’s leg, lofting a fountain of white blood. The gray-furred pack-leader tore a scagazi's limbs, as if she were pulling legs off a grasshopper. The few surviving monsters turned face, burrowing for safety, uprooting wheat stalks in their wake. The wolves dragged the corpses into the woods.
"Thank you," Wayden thought. "Thank you."
A rush of adrenaline deserted him, and he slumped to the ground. The rain began to fall then, cold and hard from the sky.
Cheers erupted, mixed with groans of pain and sobbing. A gray-haired woman treated a badly wounded peasant boy, slightly younger than Wayden. Two other women watched, sobbing.
A middle-aged man lay dead and two men were tending the body. A woman shrieked for her missing daughter until man found her hiding under a wheelbarrow. The peasants cheered as the mother embraced her. Kazor, Anaz, and two farmers were gone without a trace.
Wayden clenched his teeth, fighting back tears. He’d failed them.
Big Darius pointed at Rif and Wayden. "You're witches."
We'll be arrested by the Fire Guard.
"We didn't d-d-do anything," Rif said.
Rory inched closer, eying Wayden and Rif.
"You did," Big Darius said. "I heard you muttering strange words and gesturing. You’re illegal witches. Unauthorized magic. They be payin’ for the likes of you."
Handsome Darius thumped Big Darius's wounded arm. Big Darius winced. "Lock your lips, Big D. You know they been roundin' up magi. Wayden and Rif just saved our lives. Do you want the Dracon to grab them just cause they didn't get no authorization? Why do people need authorization to be saving someone's life? That ain't right."
But Rory was having none of it. "They can't be using magic. It's illegal, and that's that."
"Magic? What are you talking about?” Wayden laughed. His insides churned. “I think you've written one too many love letters. I was just praying, that's all."
"That weren't any prayer I ever heard,” Big Darius said, fiddling with his bandage. “All them funny words and what you were doing with yer hands. That’s witchcraft that was."
Wayden’s laugh trembled, and it came out sounding more like a strangled duck than a confident rebuttal. Rory’s gaze bore into him: suspicion mixed with self-righteous indignation, a dangerous combination.
Soul Hosts Page 7
