by Aaron Bunce
“…although I do not remember a knapsack,” Lord Thatcher said suddenly, shifting in his seat and not looking away from the fire. “I would know. I was there when they pulled you out of that boat. And good thing, too, the water washed that poor vessel back out to sea not long after. We watched it promptly sink to the bottom. I hope this knapsack you speak of was not terribly dear to you. But again, I ramble. Please, eat!”
Kida’s mouth went abruptly dry, the spoon rattling into the tureen. He suddenly wished he was anywhere else. Brother Dalman never told him what was in the note, only to put it directly into Earl Thatcher’s hands, and his hands only.
What would he tell the Earl? That he had braved the lake passage to deliver an urgent message, that brave sailors had drowned, and he had no message? He fought to remember everything Brother Dalman told him of his meetings and observations, but there had been so many. He couldn’t rightly recall any one in particular, maybe just bits and pieces altogether.
Kida sunk into the seat and fished the spoon out of the soup, slurping down another bite. He suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
A Stranger
Roman’s exhaustion overtook him like a crushing, black wave, sending him toppling end over end into a bizarre world of dreams. Tusk was waiting for him there, a brilliant, glowing white dog. The landscape was vivid and surreal, a mixture of snow and trees, but also something deeper –a veil that lay just beyond the crest of a hill, or past a copse of trees. He knew it was there. Could feel it. But he just couldn’t quite see it.
Other beings dwelt beyond that veil, great, powerful, and strange beings. They could feel him as well, and were curious, but could not see him. They called out, their strange voices kissing the wind.
“I’m dreaming, boy?” Roman asked, walking through the thick snow. Something nagged at him – something urgent, but he couldn’t lay his finger on what or why. Perhaps it would come back to him.
The spirit dog padded along beside him, gave his typical snort, and woofed quietly.
“That’s what I thought,” Roman replied, absently, taking in the colorful trees. “I’m not sure I’ll ever look at falling asleep the same.” Surely he was sleeping, although he seemed to be fully aware.
Roman and Tusk walked the strange landscape for a great while. They passed what looked like his cabin, a copse of apple trees, sagging under the weight of snow, and finally, a valley fort built near the divergence of a sprawling creek.
When they passed these spots, the disembodied voices became louder. He puzzled on this for a great while, until finally he bent over to fetch a stick out of the snow. The voices became louder the closer he got to the ground. Roman dropped onto his hands and knees, letting his ear hover just above the snow. The eerie voices were loudest now, so he started digging into the snow.
Roman scooped the snow away by the handful, but when he reached what should have been grass and dirt his fingers broke through what felt like water. Impossibly cold, thick water. He cleared more of the snow away, until he could see through.
It was water, or something that looked like it. It was also dark. Roman leaned forward, the voices now reverberating loudly from the cleared space. A bright form appeared in the darkness, and then another, until a half dozen clustered into view. They were animals, as far as he could tell, glowing and radiant like Tusk.
Another voice echoed through the trees.
Roman leaned forward, holding his hand right over the glassine surface. They were drawn to him, just as he was to them. Roman felt that he could pull them to him, and just as he did with Tusk, channel them. Some of them were massive, powerful beings the size of a house. Would they make him stronger? Would they help, or…?
Tusk growled, jarring Roman’s gaze loose from the spirits. It wasn’t an angry sound, but one of worry and anxiety. He looked up. The dog was alert, searching the breeze, his ears perked.
The voice echoed by again, fading in and out. Dennah! Realization hit him like a snowball, flooding ice into his veins. He remembered the strange, dark creature stalking them through the trees.
Tusk turned on the spot, jumped, and barked.
Wake! How do I wake? Roman jumped to his feet, feeling the fog of his strange dream world burning off. He grew cold, and hungry. But he wasn’t awake!
“Tusk. Boy, how do I wake up?” he asked. The dog stopped turning and considered him, the glowing outline of his body growing suddenly brighter. He gave a sharp, definitive bark and bounded forward, and before Roman could move, jumped, colliding paws first into his chest.
“I need you!” Dennah yelled, distantly.
Roman fell backwards into the snow, his back colliding hard, his entire body becoming horribly heavy and stiff as everything went dark. Something twanged next to him. His eyes fluttered open, his lids crusty with sleep, or ice.
Tusk barreled out of him, the black mist erupting from his body and blowing the blanket free. The dog solidified at a full gallop and bounded into the darkness, a growing mass of pure white fur, muscles, teeth, and claws. A horrible screech split the air, just as the shadowy beast’s form moved in the gloom.
Roman moved sluggishly, but managed to curl up and push to his knees. Dennah stood above him, her face red, shaking hands locked around the body of his bow.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She half-nodded, and took his hand, pulling him off the ground. He took the bow, her arms compressing into her body as soon as her fingers pried free. Tusk latched on to flesh and shook his head violently, but a sharp blow knocked him loose and into the snow. Roman rocked to the side, his ribs thrumming with the blow. Hold on, boy.
“Get the horses,” he managed, scooping the quiver out of the snow and stumbling out into the pre-dawn gloom, “and head towards town, I’ll win you some time!”
Roman nocked an arrow and drew, lugging his boots through the snow. Tusk snarled, leapt, bit, and was knocked away, but rebounded immediately and came back in. A wide form materialized before him, and Roman almost staggered face first onto a horse. Its flesh had been torn open, the snow all around it stained red, the color fading with new snow cover. The poor creature’s entrails looped out in the snow.
Tusk appeared, rolling by in the deep snow, only to spring back to his feet and bound forward. The strange beast tried to leap into the air, but Tusk caught a mouthful of flesh in his jaws and latched on. Screeching horribly, the creature swung about, flailing its long arms, slashing the air and ground with the vicious, ridged gauntlets.
Roman exhaled, and as soon as Tusk was thrown free, he loosed the arrow. The projectile struck the beast center mass, iron ringing against iron as the tip struck armor. The creature reeled, twisting about to find the source of the attack, but Roman already had another arrow nocked and let fly. The second shot struck soft flesh, burying deep with a satisfying and hollow “thump”.
The beast screamed, its twisted, ruined voice sounding more man than beast. Tusk streaked around the creature, circling and lunging back in as it dove towards Roman. The large dog caught the beast by its leg, halting its jump and dropping it face-first into the snow.
Roman hopped back in the snow, working to get distance as he scooped numbly for another arrow. His shaking hand latched onto a feathered shaft and pulled it free, slapping it against the body of the bow. He nocked and drew, all in one, well-practiced motion. The arrow flew straight, ricocheting off the creature’s ridged mask.
Damn. Focus, Roman. Limbs!
He circled to his right, waiting for the strange beast to stand. But it didn’t. Instead, the odd, armored beast slunk low to the snow, hissing at him through its mask.
Tusk circled opposite Roman, his lips curling back in an intimidating snarl. The creature turned as Tusk dove in, snapping his jaws. Roman was ready. He drew, aimed, and loosed. The arrow pierced flesh, sinking deep into muscle just beneath the armor covering its thigh. The beast stood upright, wailing angrily.
Roman loosed another arrow, and then another
, pulling and nocking as fast as his numb hands would allow. One shot flew wide, but two struck home, striking flesh, muscle, and bone with satisfying effect. The creature reeled, stumbling back, a handful of arrow shafts now protruding from its body. Tusk leapt up onto its back, his claws scrabbling against the armor for purchase. He loosed another arrow, scoring a hit on the other leg. The beast staggered and went down to its knees. They almost had it!
Roman moved forward, pulling his next shot high and right. Damn it. He was too eager. His hand fumbled into the quiver. Empty. He looked down just to confirm.
Tusk jerked violently, a piece of the creature’s armor pulling free in his jaws. It screeched and rolled forward, knocking the dog free and into the snow. Roman dropped the bow and reached for the sword on his hip.
Thank Mani Dennah found it!
The beast rolled again, moving impossibly fast in the snow, arrow shafts snapping loudly. It caught Tusk in a large hand, picking the dog up into the air, his jaws snapping and legs kicking, and threw him violently towards a large tree.
Roman reached for the knot inside, willing the spirit dog away, but it happened too fast. Tusk struck the tree and bounced off into the snow. A force crashed into his body, blasting the air out of his lungs and blurring his vision. Roman staggered back in the snow, falling to a knee but caught himself right away.
The beast moved towards him in the snow, blood dripping from the arrow shafts protruding from its body. Roman righted himself and pulled his sword free with his right hand, but the blade felt heavy and cumbersome, and his vision was still blurry. When the creature threw Tusk against the tree, it had jolted him, too.
Tusk, Roman thought, but the dog didn’t emerge from the brush.
Roman squared his shoulders as the beast loomed above him, its eyes smoldering like green coals through its dark mask. He held up the sword, a quick puff of smoke snapping out of his palm, before fire erupted, engulfing his hand.
He hoped Dennah made for Bardstown and forgot about him, but a heartbeat later he heard the horses whinny nervously somewhere behind him. Without Tusk to distract the creature, Roman was its sole focus. It waded towards him, its abnormally long legs allowing it to move quickly in the deep snow.
Go! Roman pleaded, silently willing Dennah to abandon him and make for the safety of the town, before seizing the nerve and screaming, “GO!”
He swiped the sword across at waist height and back again, before rolling sidelong and narrowly avoiding a thunderous strike from the beast’s gauntlet. His hand sizzled in the snow, a second strike just catching his leg.
Cursing, Roman oriented himself and acted out of desperation, seeking to drive the beast back. He pushed the fire forth with all of his might. A tingle shot up his arm, the fire exploding from his clawed hand in a violent spray of searing flames. The strange creature hissed and screeched, diving straight up into the sky, before crashing through the trees and landing somewhere behind him.
Roman took off towards Dennah, flexing his burning hand as he slogged through the snow. He felt the fire rippling inside him, begging to be unleashed. He’d only scratched the surface so far, letting the Ifrit’s power flow just enough to lighten a dark space, cover his hand, or burn an obstacle. The flow of power and strength was intoxicating. But his fear held him back, worrying that if he’d tap too heavily into it, it would permanently change him, and he would become the twisted, charred creature he’d seen in the barn. Even now, the scaly, armored flesh tried to crawl further up his arm, the volatile fire battling his control.
The creature crashed through the trees behind him, covering ten of his labored strides with a single, loping step, its flesh smoldering in the early morning light. Roman doubled his pace, but his legs quickly tired, his breath catching as a cramp cut into his side.
“Damn sakes,” he cursed breathlessly as the beast bounded past, cutting him off. It was relentless. “What do you want?!” he yelled, anger and fear giving way to frustration. He knew what, just not why. It had already tried to take him once, binding him like caught game. It would wear him down, and when he couldn’t fight or run anymore, it would take him. But why, and for what?
“Stay away from us!” Roman yelled as the strange creature came at him, odd clicks and noises issuing from its mask. He pushed the fire forth yet again, the flames gleefully jumping forth, but the beast covered its face with its blood-stained gauntlets. It pulled the smoking armor aside when the fire died away, and continued to advance.
Roman stabbed hard with the sword, but the creature swatted the blade aside with one hand, and knocked him from his feet with the other. Stars exploded before his eyes, he was weightless, and then the ground caught him. The creature’s shadow fell over him and then he was sliding through the snow.
He tried to collect his wits, his entire body still throbbing from Tusk’s collision with the tree. Before he could move, something leapt from the trees next to them, moving through the snow like a shadow. The smaller figure swung a long staff, and the creature’s grip broke as metal rung loudly. Roman pushed up onto his elbows, and managed to his feet. The shadow was a person. They were wrapped in padded wool and warm furs, their face and head covered.
“Wait, no!” he yelled, as they wove in under the creature’s violent swing. Surely they had no idea what it was capable of. They were coming to his aid and the beast would kill them. Their death would be on him.
He watched as they bent back, narrowly missing the ridged gauntlet, kicked forward into a cartwheel and dove between its legs. When the beast swung back they deflected another strike with the staff, twirling the weapon as they turned fully, delivery a follow-up strike that nearly knocked the armored creature from its feet.
Roman froze, speechless. He’d never seen anyone move like that before. The beast swung angrily, swiping the air and battering the ground, but the newcomer dodged and parried every strike, bending and flowing around the brutish creature’s movements like water.
He grunted as someone pulled him to his feet. Dennah held him up for a moment, her expression grim. The sword, if only by luck, was still in his hand.
“You should have gone,” he said.
“I’m not leaving you alone…with that,” she said. He nodded, and together they moved in to help the newcomer.
Roman sucked in a shallow breath through gritted teeth, the pain still throbbing in his side, and timed a lunge perfectly, the cold sword point piercing soot-blackened flesh. The beast howled, turning at him in a rage. It drove both fists into the ground and swung its legs forward, striking him in the shoulder so fast he couldn’t dodge aside.
Roman pirouetted on one leg, fighting with all of his determination to keep his feet beneath him, Dennah’s sword ringing against the beast’s armor. She jabbed in hard, but it moved too quickly in the snow, and it was coming at him.
Roman smelled the creature as it moved in, a putrid combination of sour, burned flesh and rank decay washing over him. He pivoted, his sword just deflecting a gauntlet. The force knocked him back again, ringing painfully up his arm.
The beast reared back to strike again, but a staff swung in hard at its elbow, knocking the arm into the snow. His savior leapt onto the creature’s downed arm and then its back, driving the end of the staff under the armor covering its shoulder. Then they jumped clear. Wood fibers stretched and tore as their weight bore down, until with a pop of tearing flesh, the armor broke loose and fell to the snow.
Dennah and Roman lunged at almost the same time, catching the creature before it could pull away, their blades cutting deep. The beast howled, dark blood from the torn flesh and blade strikes spattering the snow. Its armor hadn’t been strapped on, but burned into place.
Staggering and flailing its good arm, the dark creature moaned, and for a moment, Roman swore that it said “please stop.” His blood went cold as it ripped free from their blades, swiped at his mysterious companion and knocked Dennah over instead, and bounded off into the snow-covered trees.
Roman turned to thank
the mysterious stranger just as they threw their broken staff to the ground and reached up, pulling the wool wrapping from their face. It was a young woman – an incredibly pretty young woman. Her eyes were large and a pale brown. Not just pale brown, but almost clear. Roman felt his gaze pulled into hers, his confusion leaving him dumb.
“We need to go, before it comes back. The hunters are dim beasts, but they are relentless,” she said, grabbing his arm and turning him back in the direction of the Deer Run.
He shook himself free of his stupor. “Wait…hunters? What was that thing? And who, who are you?”
He knew all the people his age in Bardstown, because there weren’t many. He’d also gone to fall festivals in Cypress Springs, Trader’s Ridge, and Jorgenhald and couldn’t remember ever seeing a girl like her before. He wasn’t always great with names, but he almost never forgot a face.
She laughed quietly, pulling him through the snow with surprising strength. “You’re freezing cold, Roman. Let’s get someplace safe and warm…my father will have answers for you,” she said.
He turned and caught Dennah’s gaze. She was red-faced and watched the young woman with a wary eye. Roman turned back sharply.
“…your father?” he asked forcefully, following in the deep snow, the chill seeping deeper into his body. A hitch marred his step, but he compensated before falling flat. Then it hit him. He didn’t remember telling her his name.
Chapter Seventeen
Resurfacing
Pera swam in the black recesses of its grief, pulling back from Julian and giving in to the pain and despair. It tried to make sense of the loss – the waste of life.
Pera didn’t care that its emotions were guiding it, clouding and degrading its purpose – the very weaknesses its kind worked so hard to strip away. It’d refused to shed such things when it was counted one of them ages ago, why would it do any different now?
Aolin, the last being resembling a friend, was gone. Forever gone. That’s what the rational portion of Pera argued, but it refused to accept it, clinging to denial if only to deny the truth for a little longer. Death didn’t end us before. We endured. It thought, but deep down inside knew that this was very different. It had felt the swell of pain and joy, and then the release.
