“Where to?” Talo snapped over his shoulder, not looking away from the ursalus’ black eyes. “With one horse? We wouldn’t make it ten feet. There’s nowhere to go!”
It was true, and they both knew it. They’d tried to escape, tried to flee when Raz had screamed for them to run. Talo had gotten a glimpse of the beast as it came crashing out of the woods onto the path not twenty feet behind the atherian as he sprinted in their direction. Carro had been frozen in shock, but fortunately Gale—apparently smarter than his rider in that moment—had screamed and bolted at once.
Talo and his mare had been no more than a moment behind.
They’d galloped for what seemed like hours. It probably hadn’t been more than two to three minutes really, but the perception of how long their flight lasted was skewed by the terror of knowing what was following them. Talo had felt so small, so insignificant as he ran. His own strengths and abilities seemed to vanish from his mind compared to the sheer, terrible power that lumbered along in their wake. At some point—though he wasn’t sure exactly when—they had lost Raz, the man falling behind as their horses bolted wildly through the trees, their way lit by the torch. There had been an instant, when he’d realized their loss, that he’d wanted to turn around, to pull his mare about.
But the silhouette of the bear had still been behind them, crashing through the forest after the part of their split group that had the most meat to offer, and Talo hadn’t been able to do more than cast a messenger spell to seek the atherian out on its own.
Eventually they’d broken through the trees, smashing into the snow bank of the clearing. At first they’d managed fine, the horses handling the snow without issue, Talo’s mare following Gale’s trail as the stallion cleared a path with his powerful legs.
But then the mare had slipped, and it was only after Talo had been thrown from the saddle, landing on his back in the snow in time to see the great bear descend on the poor, terrified horse, that he had realized they’d been charging over the slick ice of a frozen lake.
After that, it had been nothing but a battle to survive.
Talo fell back as the bear dashed forward, great drifts of snow flying into the air on either side of it as it reared up to strike out at him. He brought the full weight of his staff down with both hands, but the outstretched paw he’d been aiming for was already out of the way and the steel sunk harmlessly into the snow. Pulling it free, he resumed a defensive stance, listening to Gale shuffling nervously behind him and watching the bear continue its prowling circle.
“Come get me, you wicked bitch,” he muttered under his breath. For a second the great animal paused, almost as though it were taking in his words.
Then the bear pounced.
Talo threw himself out of the way again, but by the time he’d clambered to his feet it was too late to see the trap. The ursalus had gotten smart to their tactics, had figured out they’d only keep beating it back if it attacked him head on with Carro pouring fire down on it from above. Instead of charging again, the beast sprang to the side, around Talo, flanking the more unsuspecting prey.
Gale screamed and reared, kicking out as the bear leapt for him.
“Carro!” Talo yelled as his lover tumbled off the back of the saddle. He ran forward, stumbling through the snow as the ursalus swiped at the stallion, catching the horse a bloody blow in the shoulder. Gale screamed again, stumbling sideways and nearly falling over on the uneven slickness of the snow and the ice beneath. He gained his footing at the last moment, three hooves finding firmness in the packed white.
The last came down right on Carro’s left arm as he struggled to stand, trying to get out from beneath the horse.
There was a crack of breaking bone, and all Talo could hear after that were the screams.
“CARRO! NO!”
The fires that gathered in Talo’s hands then were like none he’d ever summoned before, fed by terror, rage, and desperation. They boiled up his arms and into his palms, building such frightening heat that the snow around him began to melt in a hiss of steam, though he felt none of it himself. Bringing both hands over his head, the spells crackled and sparked as they touched, molding into a single molten ball of fire.
Then he flung the combined spell with all his might at the lumbering ursalus, launching it just as the beast made to lunge at Carro and Gale once again.
The snow beneath the flames melted to ice as it traced a wide path through the night. It caught the bear squarely in the side, and the explosion knocked Talo back a step despite his distance. The ursalus, in turn, roared as it was blasted sideways, slipping and falling as the concussive force rocked its body and blew a twenty-foot radius of snow clear of the shining ice. The reek of burned fur and seared fat filled the air, grey smoke wafting upwards in smoldering twirls. Breathing hard, Talo watched the bear hack and wheeze, snarling in wild rage as it struggled back onto its feet. He was just starting to gather the magics again, drawing another balled inferno from Carro’s continued screams, when the bear turned on him, black eyes shining with pain and hate.
Then it was charging him, lurching with terrifying speed, great claws dragging it over the newly exposed ice with deadly efficiency. Drawing his arms up again, Talo felt the glowing inferno pulse and grow between his hands, expanding under the desperate call for power he bellowed silently to the Lifegiver. When the orb of crackling red plasma was thrice the size of his head, Talo took careful aim, eyeing the space between the bear’s eyes as a hunter would sight an arrow.
When the perfect moment came, he threw.
He threw, and he missed.
The flames scorched more fur, barely missing the bear as it dodged out of the way. Talo had only enough time to feel his heart skip a single beat, throbbing in spasmed terror, when the great beast was in front of him. The bear reared back on its hind legs, suddenly little more than a massive shadow as it towered, nearly ten feet tall, over his comparatively pitiful frame.
The last thing Talo saw before a great, clawed paw caught him squarely in the chest was a glint of steel. There was a blur of a dark figure launching itself through the air, a murderous, vicious roar that sounded more animal than man.
And then, with a crash of crushing agony, the world went black.
Raz collided with the bear’s massive shoulder just as it dealt Brahnt a blow worthy of a giant. Raz screamed as he leapt, launching himself off the packed snow, unable to do more than bring Ahna’s points up like a hunting spear in his desperation to get to the animal.
He was too late, though, and the clawed paw took Brahnt in the chest just as the dviassegai pierced the beast’s side, Raz’s weight slamming into the animal after it.
He didn’t see the High Priest fly through the air, didn’t hear the thump of his landing. By the time Raz had shoved himself away from the bear, tearing Ahna free and leaping clear as it screamed in pain and fell sideways, twisting onto all fours again, all Raz saw was Brahnt’s still form sprawled out some fifteen feet away at the edge of the island and the lone, twisted pine that crowned it.
He didn’t even have a moment to cry out to the man. He would have liked to, would have liked to run to him in the same way al’Dor was now, the old Priest stumbling and tripping through the snow, left arm clutched to his chest as he scrambled to reach Talo. Raz would have liked to drop Ahna and make a mad dash in the same direction, slipping and stumbling over the slickness of the twenty-foot circle of ice he now stood in.
But Raz could do no such thing. Raz, in fact, could barely afford to do more than glance in Brahnt’s direction.
Because Raz had succeeded in drawing the attention of the beast.
Slowly, in a calculating, terrifying manner, the bear turned, shifting its bulk fluidly over the frozen lake. It was smoking, patches of seared fur and raw skin marking where the Priests’ spells had landed, and Raz wrinkled his snout at the stench of charred flesh that corrupted the otherwise crispness of the cool night. He crouched, readying Ahna in an aggressive position, arms flexed and coi
led as he brought her up, her tips dyed red by blood that was already freezing.
Raz spoke no words, then. There were no taunts to be given, no threats to be made. The beast before him was a creature of utter ferocity, pure power and violent, murderous hunger. He had its attention, he knew. One horse was dead, the Priests were dealt with, and the remaining stallion posed no danger. The ursalus had only one threat left before it could treat itself to the feast of flesh that had so foolishly wandered across its path. There was only one small bit of trouble to attend to, and then it would descend on the dead and dying around it, gorging itself for as long as it could before trudging off, back into the Woods, to resume its winter rest.
Like hell you will, Raz thought, setting his legs, digging his claws down and listening to the gentle crack of ice beneath his feet.
And then he and Ahna were moving like the wind.
He charged under the glow of the Moon and Her Stars, his howling cry echoing into the night, the dviassegai’s blades flashing. The bear, not to be outdone, leapt forward, pounding over the frozen lake towards him, bellowing out its own thundering roar. They met halfway, and would have collided in a crunch of flesh and metal if Raz didn’t leap up at the last second, sailing over the charging beast and swinging Ahna under him like a scythe.
Blood sprayed over the ice. The bear screamed in pain again, stumbling and tripping over its front right paw, weakened by the sudden severing of the muscles along the inside of its shoulder. Raz didn’t give the animal time to recover, though, twisting even as he landed, slamming a clawed hand down to stop himself sliding further, and launching himself back again. The bear had only half-turned to meet him when he collided with it, driving the entirety of Ahna’s blades into its side, deep into flesh and organs. The animal gave a deep, retching hack. Blood poured from its mouth, pooling onto the ice and staining its yellow teeth and the white fur of its chin and muzzle.
But this beast, it seemed, was made of tougher stuff than man. It twisted to finish the turn, wrenching Raz right along with it as he tried to hold onto Ahna’s haft. His grip failed him, though, and he was thrown half-a-dozen feet, sliding several more before his steel claws drew him to a screeching halt where he managed to flip himself onto his feet. He made to draw his gladius and ax but realized that this time, in his tumble, the sword had been knocked free of its sheath. He found it quickly, shining against the ice between he and the bear, who stood huffing and panting as blood continued to ooze from its jaws, waiting for him to move. Ahna protruded from its left side, all six feet of her haft extending outward, awkward and rigid.
Pulling the war-ax from its loop, Raz ran.
And again, the bear rushed to meet him.
Raz reached the gladius first, throwing himself to his knees and scooping the blade up by the handle in his right hand. Hammered steel knee caps met ice, and with a screaming whine Raz slid forward with astounding speed, right past the beast. The move took the animal by surprise, just as he’d hoped, and he bent himself backwards under the swipe of its right paw, too slow and too late to catch him now.
His ax was quicker, burying itself into the thick muscle of the ursalus’ neck before getting caught on collarbone and jerking from Raz’s hand. The gladius flashed too, though, catching it in the right side and cleaving the animal open again through thick skin and matted fur.
Raz shoved himself onto his feet just before he collided with the thicker snow that surrounded their small battleground. He whirled to meet the bear. The wound leaked beneath where the war-ax now sat wedged just to the side of its throat. Despite this, despite the limp it had every time it put weight onto its right front leg, or Ahna and the ax sticking out from it, or the raw patches from where the magic had burned into it, the bear seemed to have no intent on slowing down. It gave another rumbling growl as it turned on him yet again, and this time the thing didn’t wait to see what Raz would do. It lunged forward, snarling and spitting blood.
With no time to think of another move, Raz did the only thing left to him. Bringing the gladius up, he charged to meet the bear, and this time they slammed right into each other.
Raz lost the battle of the masses, just as he knew he would. He kept his feet, though, the flat of his gladius lodged into the crook of the bear’s shoulder, blade supported against his own upper arm like a shield even as he was pushed back with astounding force. The claws protruding from his fur boots screeched once again, cutting furrows in the ice as the bear pressed into him, trying to knock him down. As soon as it began to slow, intending to change tactics when it realized its prey wasn’t so easily leveled, Raz’s hand snapped out to seize a fistful of greyish hair on the animal’s shoulder. Using it for leverage, he vaulted over the ursalus’ paw just as it drew back to swipe at him yet again.
Landing lightly at its side, confusing the bear with his sudden disappearance from its sight, Raz began his rain of death.
For a long time Raz made no big moves with the gladius, using the narrow sword’s lightness and speed to his advantage as he dealt the bear cut after cut about its head, neck, and front legs. There was no opportunity for risk in this dance, no slack to be given or chance to be taken. Raz was done for if he took so much as a single blow by those great claws, and he knew it. The sheer power backing every one of the bear’s moves, the weight behind its lunging attacks, were no less fearsome than a battering ram. Raz could not make mistakes. There was no leeway or latitude to give this battle. He dodged every strike the bear made at him, making sure to dig his claws into the scarred ice each time he shifted his feet. He never attacked unless his footing was true, never darted in for a slash or stab unless he knew the opening was there. A hundred times his blade lashed in, and a hundred times he darted, rolled, and leapt away from grey claws and blood-stained teeth. The duel dragged on, Raz’s breath coming in ragged heaves of rolling vapor, illuminated thickly in the Moon’s light so that it looked like smoke. When he tired too much he retreated, always giving himself the moment’s reprieve he needed to keep from tripping up, keep from making a mistake.
And so, when the opportunity for the killing blow arrived, Raz was ready to throw all of his strength into it.
The chance came abruptly, brought on by the bear’s wounds and its own exhaustion. Raz had just dealt the beast a nasty slash across the muzzle, barely missing one of its gleaming black eyes, and it roared, utterly enraged. Shoving itself onto its hind legs, the bear lunged down at Raz from above, as though intent on crushing him with the sheer force of its weight. Raz barely got out of the way in time, flinging himself sideways and dragging himself across the ragged ice with steel claws. The bear fell all the same, though, slamming both paws down exactly on the spot he had just been.
The right leg, though, weakened by the very first crippling blow Raz had dealt, crumpled and collapsed beneath it under the force of its falling body. With a crash Raz feared might actually break the ice, the bear smashed onto its side, roaring as it fell. For a moment it lay, suddenly exposed, paws clawing at the air as it tried to get back up.
A moment was all Raz i’Syul Arro had ever needed.
He was on the bear in a flash, lancing forward, bringing the gladius down at a savage angle just as the animal managed to roll itself onto all fours again. Piercing steel, stained with icy rivulets of red, cut high into the side of the bear’s neck. Raz had gone for the spine, seeking the delicate nerves at the base of the brain.
He had aimed true.
The ursalus spasmed as though struck by a cannon ball, and it let out a garbled scream of pain. The gladius slipped further in, and the bear seemed to lose control of its right legs, collapsing and rolling halfway onto its side. Raz held onto the blade, gripping it like a handle as it was dragged along with the beast, using the weapon to pull himself right up onto the bear’s massive furred body. Letting go he stepped sideways, grabbed Ahna with both hands, and wrenched her free of the creature’s ribs.
As the ursalus gave a final, furious scream, blood pouring once more from its mouth,
Raz matched the sound with his own roar. At the same time he leapt, launching himself as high into the air as he could, twisting as he did. The night air whipped around him, the Moon illuminating the crimson ice that marked their battlefield like some violent painting of red and blue. For half a moment he hung suspended, howling as he brought Ahna up and over his head with both hands.
Then he fell, driving the dviassegai’s twin blades downward like some beastly woodsman’s ax.
They caught the bear in the neck, between the edge of its blood-caked jaw and the place from which the gladius protruded from its spine. Unstoppable behind the force of the weapon’s fall, steel cleaved through fur, flesh, and bone, severing all in one blow. Chips of ice flew in all directions as Ahna crashed into the frozen lake beneath the bear, flung like shards of shattered red glass, wet and glistening.
Then the ursalus’ head tumbled free of its huge, beaten body, and the bear was finally silent.
At once Raz fell to his knees, heaving in gulps of cold air as he tried to catch his breath. Dragging Ahna back towards him, he lifted her up with a grunt and set her points into the ice, using her to support his weight as his limbs shook. For a long time he stayed there, feeling his mind catch up to his body, hearing the world around him settle and return from the distant place it had faded to as he fought.
“Talo. Talo! No… Please. Talo…”
The words, pitiful and quiet, reached him as the calmness of the winter night fell over Raz once again. Slowly, viscerally afraid of what he would see, he raised his head and looked to the center of the lake. A furrow in the snow, streaked dark with blood, led from where he knew the man’s body had lain. It climbed up, onto the slow incline of the tiny island, and under the branches of the pine, twisting and swaying in the wind.
There, bathed in white gold light as al’Dor worked some great magic with one hand over his broken form, Talo Brahnt sat propped up against the trunk of the ancient tree.
Winter's King Page 23
