“Now!” Grae shouted. “Now!”
Lokk Lurius broke ranks and ran at the creature. The Eridian leaped, spinning in the air, his swords twirling like the torches of a flamedancer. Something flashed in front of the Beast before Lokk could strike. An explosion of white. The creature howled and backed onto it haunches. Splotches of frost glistened like white ferns across its face.
Lokk’s theiyras cut through creature’s flank. The Beast’s body spasmed. It spun in a complete circle then used both foreclaws to pound the Eridian. Lokk sailed across the field, his crested helm clunking off and rolling when he landed
The soldiers advanced and lunged again with spears. But the Beast was ready this time. It leaped high into the air. Landed behind the squad, between Ulrean and the soldiers. Aramaesia shrieked, butt the Beast was not interested in the boy. It spun and hissed, its eyes on Meedryk Bodlyn.
The squad had already pivoted to face the creature, without a command from Grae. A wall of glowing red spear tips moved forward to protect the mage.
Rundle staggered to his feet, swaying and bleeding. He stumbled back to the line. His mail hung from his shoulders in tatters. His torso slick with blood. Lord Aeren ran from the fire pit and offered assistance. The bearded warrior took a newly heated spear and waved the scholar away as the line charged forward.
Hammer and Drissdie thrust with their spears again. The creature dodged to one side, but Aramaesia had timed its movements. She had aimed one of her arrows at the space where she knew the monster would be. The shaft buried itself to the fletching in the Beast’s chest. The creature howled, reared and shrieked and writhed. The phosphors on its body brought a green daylight to the clearing.
The Beast howled again and again, then lunged suddenly, with unthinkable speed. It flashed past the spearmen, toward Aramaesia. And in so doing, it exposed its flanks to every soldier. It was Grae’s perfect scenario. The one he had envisioned when devising his strategy.
Four spears plunged into the creature’s flanks.
“Jah!”
The tips drove deep, burning through vines and flesh. The monster’s cries were like thunder. It snapped the spears with its arms then reared and clawed at the searing tips that remained inside of it.
Grae grinned. Tonight, we are the Beasts.
Lokk slashed down, hacking through sinew and bone, severing one of the thick, taloned foreclaws. The forest shook again with the Beast’s howl.
Tonight, we are the most fearsome thing in Maug Maurai.
A flash of black. The creature’s tail whipped in the night. Lokk leapt backward to avoid it, but all four spearmen were knocked down. Grae’s head struck the ground, sallet ringing.
Tonight, my head will ache.
The monster roared again and advanced on Aramaesia, hobbling on three legs. Her bowstring thrummed. Another arrow batted down.
Meedryk swung his hands forward violently. “Suhira Trentalia!”
A cloud of flame erupted in front of the Beast.
Yes! Grae’s heart hammered in his chest as he rolled to his feet. Yes!
The monster howled and leaped into the air. High into the air. Meedryk’s mouth dropped open as he watched the monster sail over his head again and land five paces behind him and Aramaesia. Mage and archer backed toward the soldiers. The Beast coiled its muscles for a strike.
Grae raised his broken spear and screamed, charged the creature, all thoughts of the formation gone. The monster hissed at him.
“Close your eyes, Maid Aramaesia,” cried Meedryk. He raised two fingers in the air, “Adaria Thanule.”
The resulting flash of light was so powerful that Aramaesia could see red through her closed lids. The monster shrieked again. It leapt over the entire squad again and landed on its side with a thump. It scrambled clumsily to its feet. Staggered forward and dove into the cover of the forest.
Grae used the shaft of his broken spear as a cane, plodded toward the archer and the magician. “What happened? Where did it go?” Meedryk’s flare had blinded him.
Hammer helped the Brig to the line. “It’s gone, brig, sir. Jumped into the forest like a frightened bear cub.”
“Meedryk!” shouted Grae. “If you’re going to flare him, for Blythwynn’s Love, let us know!” The brig had been flared before. Twice on the battlefield, both times by mages on his side. Fortunately it never lasted long.
He surveyed the group through dancing red spots as his vision returned. Hammer was breathing hard. There were gouges in his mail and some blood, but the old man seemed in decent health. Rundle was a mess of blood, but he was standing. The others were untouched. He almost laughed. They had survived. The Beast hadn’t claimed any lives. He looked to the ground, a few yards away. One of the creature’s taloned hands lay on the grass. We sent it off, wounded. It fled without taking a single life. Hope rose in his heart.
Rundle dropped his shield.
Drissdie, standing next to him, stared open-mouthed at the soldier, picked up the shield and it to Rundle in a panic. As if giving it back quickly meant it had never happened.
“Hammer!” called Drissdie. “Rundle’s hurt.”
Rundle took the shield and nodded, then it slipped from his fingers again.
“Rundle…” Sage trailed off. Drissdie covered his mouth with one hand as the scout gave the shield back. The bearded infantryman grasped it, swaying. Nodded thanks again. A moment later, the shield fell again and Rundle dropped to a knee. He grabbed the strap of the shield, looped his wrist into it so that it couldn’t fall again.
“I ain’t… I didn’t... strap’s loose... broken,” his voice was bubbling and thick.
A cry sliced through the forest night. And another. Grae stared into the darkness. The green glow of the Beast moved through the trees.
It was only regrouping. It’s not done.
The creature lunged back into the clearing, howling, the spines on its head rising and trembling. The jaws were open now, the teeth bristling like a hundred curved pikes. The unnatural green glow from within lighting its face.
“It ain’t gonna stop,” sobbed Drissdie. “It’s gonna kill us all.
“Shut your mommy-sucking mouth, Hannish!” Hammer roared.
The soldiers backed into formation. All except Rundle, who glanced down at his shield and stumbled forward drawing his sword.
“Rundle, get back in formation!” said Grae.
But the infantryman staggered forward. The broadsword seemed too heavy for him. It fell clanging from his fingers to the soil below, but still he ran. He ran until the Beast had him. It snatched him in the same way it had taken Jjarnee, one claw pinning his arms above him, shield and all, the second pinning his legs.
“Forward! Charge!” Grae bellowed. The soldiers roared and ran forward, sword high, shields at forty-five. Aramaesia fired low, but the creature caught the arrow in midflight and hurled it back at her. .The great stinger rose from the creature’s flank and fell upon Rundle swiftly. It struck the warrior in the open mass of his abdomen. Rundle screamed and yanked his hand from the loop of the shield, and, suddenly, one arm was free.
He drew his dagger and stabbed at one of the creature’s eyes. The Beast lunged backward, craned its neck away from the infantryman. Rundle missed the eye but sank the blade three inches into the creature’s skull. The monster howled and shook its head wildly. Rundle pulled the dagger free and stabbed twice more before the Beast could pin the wayward hand.
The squad closed. Tears stung Grae’s eyes as he watched Rundle. The man had run blindly at the creature. Had sacrificed himself to buy the squad time. To wound the Beast. To do his part. This wasn’t a prison guard. This wasn’t a jane or a garrisoner. This was a Standard. And this was how Standards died.
Grae sprinted forward and slashed at the Beast with his sword. They had no more spears. He flailed madly at the creature’s dancing form. But it was always just out of reach. Meedryk hurled one of his pellets from an angle. The Beast attempted to bat it, ruptured it in mid-air. Flames explod
ed outward like a tiny sun, burning the claw and arm and spattering onto the Beast’s face. Rundle howled as the flames scorched his shoulder. The monster hissed and swung its head, but kept the stinger in Rundle for another three heartbeats. Then it dropped the soldier to the ground and leaped. Lokk jumped too and managed a deep slash to its side. But the Beast soared fifteen feet to a snarl of branches then howled down at them. It howled twice more, then moved through the tree, rustling, and bending limbs.
Chapter 41
When the dead come for you, the best you can hope for is death.
— From “The Andraen Forest,” by Dallyn Salthis
Rundle lay on his back, a mass of red and bright green. Murky, black fluid seeped from the corners of his mouth. Lokk and Sage watched the forest as the rest of the squad ran to the infantryman’s side. Lord Aeren pulled a flaming brand from the fire pit and lit Rundle’s wounds.
“Easy, Graen,” said Hammer. He lifted the shambles of mail and gambeson. “Just relax.”
Rundle looked up and gestured toward his left arm. “The strap… strap was broken,” he said. “It was… loose.”
“Of course it was,” said Grae. “I’ll have Aramaesia stitch the strap. There’s no shame in a broken shield.”
“I could hold it fine,” said Rundle. “Just… Just a surprise. Strap kept... flipping.”
“You held it fine once you realized,” Grae replied. “Now stop talking. Let the hammer get you stitched up.”
Hammer turned Rundle’s head to the side on the pretext of checking his neck and shook his head slowly at Grae. Lord Aeren saw the signal and ran a hand over his eyes.
“A magnificent display you put on, Rundle,” said the young lord, his voice choked.
“Aye,” said Grae. “You sent it into the forest with that dagger work.”
“Is… is it hurt?”
“It was dragging its legs behind it,” said Lord Aeren. “Should be a simple matter to track it down and kill it.”
Rundle nodded once, then his eyes clouded over. His ribs glistened in the firelight, beneath the ravaged skin of his torso. His breathing became shallow and ragged, but he didn’t die.
Grae brought Lord Aeren, Hammer and Sage a short distance away. “He’s torn apart,” he whispered. “Torn wide open. The Beast stung him.”
The others looked at the body.
“Whatever that green fluid is, it is keeping him alive,” Lord Aeren whispered.
“He’ll change,” Grae said. “Turn into one of those things. Like you said.”
Lord Aeren looked back to Rundle Graen, let out a long breath and nodded.
“He’ll be in a great deal of pain soon, won’t he?” asked Grae.
Aeren understood every aspect of the question. He fingered the pommel of the knife Rundle had given him and thought long before responding. “Yes. I imagine he will.”
Grae rubbed his tired eyes. He spotted Lokk Lurius on the outskirts of the camp, walking the perimeter and peering into the forest like a war hound.
“Lokk,” he called. “A moment, please.”
†††
They buried Rundle’s ashes next to Jjarnee. The number of dead in the clearing was starting to rival the living. They sent him off, regretting the need to burn his corpse.
“His final actions were as courageous as any soldier I’ve seen,” said Grae. “Lojen will find him a new body and give him a place of honor in Eleyria.”
“We might not see that monster again,” said Hammer. “One grabber sliced off, spearheads in its belly. Arrows in its chest. And a snoutful a frost and fire. It’s probably ‘ad more’n enough of us, that’s what I think.”
“Maybe,” said Sage. “Or maybe we’ve only succeeded in angering it.” He shifted. “Seems to me that it’s been toying with us these days. With its speed it could have taken any number of us by now. But it seems satisfied to kill one person each night. As if it’s enjoying itself.”
“It is certainly not enjoying itself anymore,” said Grae.
“Precisely,” said Sage. “What do you think that means for us?”
†††
Lokk took Ulrean to one side of the clearing and gave him lessons on using a dagger. He flipped one blade, so that it rested against the inside of his forearm, and held the other normally. Showed the boy how to block a blow with the dagger on his forearm, and attack with the other.
“You always attack,” he said. “Even when you defend, you’re defending with the blade. Cutting and blocking at the same time. Never let your enemy dictate.”
Aramaesia looked on from a few yards away, her face creased, her fingers knitting and re-knitting together.
The others sat by the fire quietly. A gentle breeze set the leaves of the forest chattering and dropped debris on the outskirts of the clearing. A twig fell upon the strings of Maribrae’s fiolys, plinked a jangly note from it. Sage picked up the instrument and tucked it back into its case.
Shanks regained consciousness. Drissdie was dispatched to feed the big infantryman. The young soldier approached Shanks with a plate of jurren and wild apples, and a wineskin filled with water around his neck.
Drissdie, tore a strip of jurren and held it out to Shanks. The big man leaned forward and took it with his teeth.
“This is embarrassing,” said Shanks. “For both of us.”
Drissdie nodded and held up another strip.
Shanks ate it and shook his head. “You know why they make you do this?” Drissdie shook his head. He didn’t want to know. Not Shank’s version. “’Cause they don’t respect you. They don’t understand soldiers like me and you.”
Drissdie stared down at the plate.
“No one looks after soldiers like you and me,” said Shanks. “Normal soldiers. Trudges who just try to get by. No one cares. We have to look after each other. ’Cause if me and you don’t help each other, ain’t no one gonna help us.”
“You killed Maribrae.” Drissdie refused to meet Shanks’s gaze. “Maribrae was pretty and she smelled good and she never pushed me around none. And she danced with us.”
“That thing with Maribrae were an accident,” Shanks replied. “I saw her by the creek and wanted to help her pick those flowers. You know what she said?”
Drissdie shook his head.
“She said, ‘Get thou stink from my area.’ Just like that.”
Drissdie looked up. It sounded like Maribrae.
“Yeah, then she stands up and sees I’m in her way. So she shoves me. So I tell her to settle down and she shoves me again. So I shove her back, you know, gentle, just to let her know she can’t be pushing a Standard around. She trips on a root and falls backward and hurts her arm. And she gets up filled with the fury, you understand? And she tells me she’s going to tell Sir Jastyn and he’s going to torture me and have me hanged when we get back. Then she slaps me and turns back to camp.” He shook his head solemnly. “What was I supposed to do? I was defending my person. It was her or me.”
It didn’t sound like Maribrae, but she had been in a hurry. And Drissdie knew she hadn’t liked Shanks very much.
“You know what really burned me up, though?” said Shanks. Drissdie shook his head and gave Shanks another bite. The big infantryman swallowed and said, “Before I grabbed her, she started insulting all of us earth ranks. Said we were common and stupid. She said she only danced with us on account of Sir Jastyn telling her to. Said it was the worst thing she’d ever done.”
Drissdie looked up and tried to ascertain the truth from Shanks’s eyes, but it was a skill he did not possess. It seemed plausible. Why would someone enjoy dancing with a stumble-hog like him?
“Drissdie,” said Shanks. “You and me, we gotta stick together, don’t we? Cut me loose, mate.”
Drissdie nearly dropped the plate. “What?”
“Cut me loose. Let me go. I won’t cause no trouble.”
Drissdie smiled. “Just eat, Beldrun.”
“Listen to me,” said Shanks. “You don’t have to actually cut me
loose. Just give me a knife. I’ll do it.”
Drissdie cast a nervous glance back at the squad. He cleared his throat, smiled again. “They’ll know I did it. They’ll see that you cut the ropes and they’ll blame me, d’you suppose?”
Shanks smiled. “You’re probably right.” Shanks chewed the last of the jurren. “Hey, I know. You can find me a sharp rock. Something really sharp. I can cut the ropes with it myself. I’ll dig around behind me to make it look like I found it in the ground, and I’ll leave the rock, so they see how I did it. It’s perfect. You’re my friend, right? We’re friends, ain’t we?”
Drissdie nodded.
“Find me a sharp rock,” said Shanks. “Bring it over later. Pretend your bringing me some water. I’ll wait until everyone’s asleep.”
Chapter 42
Drinketh all, from the Amber Ewer of Plenty, bestowed with the love and wardship of fair Blythwynn. Eateth all, and be strong. For the land needeth your power. And thine children needeth thine heart.
—The Words of Stainless Aerys Laray
It was warm when Grae woke. He didn’t recall falling asleep. He’d entered his tent to think on the Beast, but had thought only about his squad. Thought about Daft Dathnien Faldry, and Jjarnee Kruu, and Rundle Graen. About Sir Jastyn and his songmaiden. Out on the marches and in the Green Hills men died in vast and impersonal numbers. The magnitude of the deaths made it impossible to digest. Here, in Maug Maurai, the deaths came one by one. Here, death was an individual act. Each death echoed in Grae’s soul.
He opened his eyes and watched shadows of branches play across his tent canopy. A plan had come to him sometime in the night, outside of his awareness. He thought the idea through, now, and couldn’t tell if it was inspiration or insanity.
The firepit wasn’t lit, but the others sat in a circle around it anyway. Grae studied the remains of the squad; Hammer, Lokk Lurius, Sage, Drissdie and Meedryk. All that remained of the nine Standards that had begun the campaign. Aramaesia made six. Lord Aeren had been practicing with the crossbow but he still couldn’t be counted as much more than an observer. Shanks, tied to the tree, was a liability now. It would probably be best to execute him out here.
Stars and Graves Page 20
