by Jason Jones
A snarl loosed its fanged mouth, and James backed up, swinging his blade up and down, trying to keep the cat at bay. The beast hissed at the blade, but crept closer, batting with its paws at the weapon. James dug his boot into the ground, and then flipped his foot up, throwing sand at the cat’s eyes. As it turned its eyes away, the knight stepped in, cutting across the panther’s neck and again across the face, the edge slicing through an eye as well.
The griffon hilted broadsword then dove, point first, through black fur and muscle, just as the creature jumped on top of him. Claws and blood blended with horrid foul breath as the fiendish feline tried to devour the knight. His fist clenched around the beast’s throat, gripping as much to crush it as to save himself the teeth, James held the snarling fangs inches from his face. He maneuvered his legs under the ribs and heaved with all his remaining effort, sending the cat over his head.
James spun to his feet, blade out in two hands again, seeing not only the wounded one staring him down hesitantly, but another behind it on the prowl. Piercing eyes in the still of the coastal darkness called to him, growls from the great panthers resonating across the beach. He knew he had to kill the injured one before he found himself in serious trouble, so he charged in. The beast recoiled, sensing the other panther nearby, waiting for the last trail of dim starlight to disappear to the clouds. Turning and twisting his stance, James found himself flanked, unable to keep an eye on the fanged shadows that stalked him, not sure which one was dying, or which was ready for a kill.
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Saberrak nearly slipped on the slope, his feet mired in the blood of his enemies. The butt end of the greataxe smashed the remaining life out of the vicious cat, the others taking turns raking at Saberrak’s flank. He spun his axes, bringing both down into the shoulders of the beast behind him, then dropped his knee and full weight on the neck, snapping it. The creature twitched, letting out a final hiss, its eyes dimming. He lowered his horns, his thigh clawed again, deep and bloody this time, yet he did not care, did not flinch. The stolen axe flew from his hand, landing in the ribs of another leaping panther, imbedding deep and hurling it to the ground where it tossed and flopped in pain, trying to get the weapon loose of its body.
Returning, the beast that cut his leg open scrambled to rake again, but this time it met the blood soaked horns of the minotaur, piercing through the side of the hind flank. Saberrak grabbed the back of its neck, removing the cat from his horns, tearing flesh and fur from sinew and muscle. Flailing and ripping with the black claws on all four legs, the gray gladiator threw it to the ground and readied his greataxe. It landed on all fours, and turned like lightning, leaping for the minotaur. The edge of the axe turned horizontal, combined with the cat’s momentum, and cleaved through the gaping fanged mouth through the skull, taking the top of the beast’s head completely off. Saberrak the Gray was knocked back as the body slammed into his torso. He took a lower stance, waiting for the next panther to leap.
Two sets of eyes he saw, still stalking in the trees, then a third. The third set of green orbs was very high, fifteen feet up in the trees, and very still, waiting. The other two, closer to the ground, also waited, purring and growling to each other. Saberrak snapped to, realizing that he had killed many, seeing the pale human forms they had reverted to scattered all over, some in pieces. He thought of James for a brief moment and began to withdraw down the valley even more. His calves bleeding, his thigh torn and raw, his chest and shoulders were stinging from claw wounds, and his eyes burned from the blood that had run down from his horns.
Saberrak still walked backwards, not thinking of turning his back to these black furred demons. Then he saw it. The third panther was not in tree, but stalking on foot, its head simply stretched that high. Obviously it was Bansa, their lord, and for good reason. The prowling creature certainly stood fifteen feet at the shoulder and was as long as ten men from head to tail. Silent as the others, its round feral eyes were the size of a man.
“My children, how could you kill my children?” The lord of these beasts, whether a man or not, stepped forward, sniffing his dead kinsman and staring at the gray minotaur.
Saberrak thought of a few choice words, looked at his axe, and then up to the enormous black feline titan that stared at him. Then he turned and ran, faster than he had ever run before.
The trees threw him as he hit them, the branches snapped, and he tumbled down through the valley. He heard the roar of the beast, like that of thunder on a clear day, like a herd of rampaging minotaurs. It shook the ground, and he felt it in his greataxe. The pounding of giant paws, the crashing of trees like they were twigs, the very breath of the lord of the panthers was tremendously present. Saberrak ran, seeing the beach ahead with his attuned vision, and seeing the ship and away boats. The horned warrior did not slow his pace, also spotting James on his back, blade across a panther’s chest as it was nearly ready to eat him alive. Another lay dead, back to human form, a few feet away. Saberrak charged, both hands on the axe, and in passing, he cleaved the head off of the beast on James' chest at the neck. Blood splattered all over the knight, now pushing to get the twitching and decapitated feline off of him.
“Thanks, messy and atrocious, but thanks. What happened up there, are there…”
“Shut up and run! Get to the ship!” Saberrak looked over his shoulder, seeing the green eyes stalking down to the beach. Looming high in the air, like an unstoppable menace, the hissing cat stalked closer to the fleeing murderers of its children and worshippers.
James sprang to his feet, bleeding from his side, and looked back at the green eyes in the air, the midnight form in the dark, not believing what he thought he was seeing.
“Is that what I think it is?” He waded into the cold water behind Saberrak.
“What would that be?” The minotaur saw the boats closer now, the water up to his waist, chilling his open wounds.
“A gigantic panther, half the size of a galleon, that is chasing behind you.” The veteran knight saw arrows fire from the Bronze Harpy, then more, hearing them loose from crossbows and longbows alike, all aimed at the shadow of the giant beast on the beach.
“Yes, that would be Bansa. And it is closer to you than me, knight. I would hurry. Lift anchor!!” the minotaur yelled toward the ship.
More arrows fired, then a blast of fire from Gwenneth on the upper deck. The flame erupted on the side of the great beast, some of its children stalking the island coast now. Another flaming ball of arcane power flew from her hands, then another, her words carrying on the wind. The animal of enormous proportions seemed more angry than hurt, frustrated and unwilling to step foot in the sea. It howled, roared, even purred and hissed at the ship and the small boats, pacing back and forth across the beach with its children.
Saberrak pulled himself over the side of the small boat, then reached for James. Blood ran down with the water, saltwater stinging, yet he pulled the knight inside. The boats reached the galleon, and the crew helped the bloody minotaur and knight up the ladder to the deck. They all watched as the cats disappeared into the darkness of the island, still issuing calls and growls of displeasure. The crew stared at the giant form pacing away, then to the minotaur and the knight in disbelief.
“What in the world was that?” Shinayne rushed to the men, Azenairk following, beginning his silent prayers as he produced some bandages and called for clean water.
“Seems the natives turn into panthers, and have a personal God of great size. They asked us to stay, but we had to decline. Tell the captain that the Valhirst ship is on the other side of the island. We have to get moving.” Saberrak looked up at Gwenneth who was still staring into the darkness, looking for any sign of the cat she had hit several times with her arcane fires. She looked back at the minotaur, and he nodded to her. She returned the nod with one of her own, saying he was welcome without words.
“Saberrak, you are talking to the captain. Now let me clean that out, and that one, and by Vundren you
are a bloody mess here, horned one.” Zen asked for more water and rags from the crew.
“What do you mean? Where is the old man?” Grimacing in discomfort, the minotaur seemed confused.
“Gwenne killed him. Well, not really. A doppelganger killed him, and Gwenne killed that doppelganger. Make sense? There were four all together, they’re dead now.” Shinayne looked at James, who was deep in meditation, healing his side with the faint blue light from his hand.
“So you are the captain? Can you get us out of here, and to Harlaheim? Do you know whatever one needs to know for that?” Saberrak cringed as the dwarven priest cleaned his shoulder wounds.
“I was captain of the Eimmerin, in the Southern Kilikala Navy, for a decade. The ships are longer and faster than these, but less crew. I can handle myself fine. Just keep the men in line for me, horned one.” Shinayne looked around at the men, lifting anchor at night, all seeming a bit nervous with all that had happened.
“I can do that, Captain Shinayne. You just get us there in one piece.” Saberrak rested back, letting the dwarf work and pray on his injuries, the faint light of golden healing warmth tingling his thick hide.
Blue light glowed stronger from the knight, his hand tucked under his arm, the aura pulsing as he closed his eyes and concentrated. Several crewmen noticed, stopped and stared till they felt the eyes of the minotaur staring back at them. Zen watched out of the corner of his eye, feigning to stroke his beard or itch it to catch a glimpse of how the man was healing himself without a word.
“How do you do that, James Andellis?” Saberrak asked quietly.
“How did you kill all those panthers, Saberrak the Gray?” James smiled and asked back, his eyes still closed. His seat on the deck of the Harpy had never felt so good.
“I just did. I focus and use what I learned in the arena, and make my thoughts quiet, I guess. It’s instinct.” He looked over at the fading blue glow of his comrade, and the panther blood dry on his face and neck, courtesy of the greataxe.
“Same with me.” James wiped his face, and then placed his bloody hand on the minotaur's shoulder to help himself up. “How many did you kill up there?”
“Counting yours?”
“Sure, counting mine.” James smiled, feeling weary and in need of rest.
“Nine, but the big one got away,” Saberrak grinned, looking back at the dark of Cat’s Eye Isle.
“Thank Alden for that. And for Gwenneth Lazlette sending it some nice gifts of fire.” James was drowsy, his eyes squinted to say open, his healing touch dulling his consciousness quickly.
“Good night.” James bowed to his friends, and went below deck to his bed.
He lay down, filthy from battle, still wet, but he didn't care. His head hit the pillow, and he felt the bottle of wine he had put there from the supplies they had loaded. Just one bottle he thought, a reward for being knighted, slaying a man-panther, and his hard work. He pulled the cork out, and took just a small sip, as it had been five days since he had been sick from too much or not enough, perhaps a week without enjoying any wine.
It was dry, rough on the tongue, worse than port swill. A slight burn went down with the wildberry, grape, and vinegar mash that had likely spoiled in the bunker.
“Ahh, old friend, you taste better than ever.” James drank the wine, finishing the bottle, and drifted off to exhausted sleep.
Curses I:VII
Temple of the Whitemoon
Chazzrynn
The falcata cut across horizontally, missing the quick Nadderi elf, and then the glowing dagger followed in a set of rapid vertical thrusts. Those attacks put the cursed elf to backing up as he kept his defenses against the curved weapons of his skilled opponent. Another display of prowess unleashed as Lavress Tilaniun spun and dove ahead with both ancient blades at Kendari's chest, then stopped before the parry and redoubled the lunge. His fury sent the cursed swordsman toppling back over the stone steps into the sacred grove.
On his feet in an instant, the Nadderi assassin feinted to dive Shiver at the wood elf, watching his falcata, then spun full circle. Shiver attacking high, his left hand edge knocking the dagger aside, Kendari was taking back the offensive. He followed with another blade cut to the curved sword of the hunter, then spun again, slicing his left across the stomach of his enemy. The quick slice of leather and skin was felt, and Kendari turned to an overhead thrust with Shiver. That cut also nicked through the armor of Lavress, sizzling into his shoulder right as he rolled to recuperate his form and spacing. The cursed killer noticed small bloodstains in those two places on the savage elf, and feeling confident in his routine, he smiled and stared.
The servant of the Hedim Anah turned sideways, throwing off the target of his torso, and began to weave his dagger from side to side, teasing and distracting Kendari. Feinting with the falcata's forward edge, Lavress attacked with a horizontal slash, then a kick high toward the face that fell short, and again went into the rapid stabs with the dagger. This time he stopped, the parries too easy for his adversary, and jumped at him, slashing across his lowered shoulder with the curved weapon. He had hit armor and cut hard, sending his foe rolling forward to avoid getting caught from behind. Lavress landed ready, but felt his arm stinging. Looking briefly as he readied for another exchange of blades, blood trickled fast down his arm from an attack of the enemy's longsword, a cut that he had not even seen.
“We may go all night at this pace, savage.”
“I would rather be savage than cursed, old one.”
Kendari of Stillwood rolled his shoulder, pointing his heated longblade at the wood elf to keep him at bay. He circled and paced, in obvious discomfort from the wound the falcata edge had left. He looked at the triceps of his forest enemy, noting the attack from below the flying lunge had hit the mark. His tight black garb blended into the shadows under the trees, and his eyes stared across to his prey, waiting for him to initiate his furious attacks again. The Nadderi swordsman felt challenged, for the first time in centuries, for this wood elf hunter was determined, quick, and deadly. The duel had gone on for hours now, nearing the morning light, neither his opponent nor himself slowing a bit. His thoughts drifted to the last time he had killed a member of the Hedim Anah; it had been ages. He knew Lavress had at least four bleeding wounds to his one, he had the advantage. His enemy approaching, Kendari looked at Bedesh, trying to crawl to the closing entrance to the temple.
“May I finish him now, or would you like him to suffer more?”
Lavress paid no mind, and crosscut toward the green eyes of the murderer before him, his successive attacks with the dagger and again the falcata met the longswords solidly as the two elven warriors encircled a giant banyan tree, fighting in the shadows and growing wind. His injuries were minor, but his shoulder burned with each attack from the inflamed puncture from the heat spewing enchanted weapon. The forward curved falcata cut twice, knocking the longblades of his enemy aside, his dagger plunging straight in subsequently. He knew the sacred temple was closing, all he needed was to keep Kendari out, whether it meant his life or not.
The glowing blade was caught as the Nadderi elf pulled his arms together, catching it with his enchanted bracers. Lavress was shoved back by the older elf, who now pursued him into the grove of trees outside the circle. Driving the wood elf up the steps and out into the open with violent leg slashes, forcing him into low parries and rapid jumps and retreats, Kendari was feeling it time to end this. His focus changed, and he became completely serious, and full of hate.
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The satyr could not feel his legs do much but twitch. His hands pulled him from his bloody spot in the grass, toward the downward stairs of the Temple of the Whitemoon. He heard the music, could smell the incense, but the stairs now were only a few feet wide, not like before where many could walk side by side below. The temple was closing slowly, and almost there.
Bedesh looked at the two elven swordsmen, heard the furious ringing of steel on steel, then looked
to poor Jevendial the hiroon, who lay dead across the circle grove on the stones. The canine warrior looked peaceful, his blood covering the stones with two arrows protruding from his back. The satyr, eyes drowsy, his stomach bleeding and burning with each feeble breath, reached for the bow given to him by Lavress. He scrounged his fingers for an arrow as well, and continued his crawl to the closing temple stairs.
The very stone moved silently, impossible to see or hear with the melody radiating from the choir below. Bedesh reached the stone mantle above the steps, laying his head back on the Whitemoon designs and runes engraved above. He nocked his arrow, his eyes barely open, his breath short, every part of his body ached and yet felt cold and numb.
Bedesh waited, for if and when, that cursed elf was within range for a clear shot. He looked at the trail of blood he had smeared in his journey the twelve feet to his position. The sight of it did nothing to him, he was in death's grip, and only wished to see the murderous elf meet his end, before he did.
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Kendari lunged with his off hand sword, awkward with the lack of reach since he held it reverse, but shot his wrist and elbow out for a point attack, followed by a diagonal cut that was parried. Then he spun into a reverse twist, bringing his left hand out and arcing a slice toward the wood elf's neck, nicking his hair, and Shiver whipped edge first, knocking the blocking dagger out of Lavress’ hand with the spinning force of the cut. The enchanted longsword subsequently cut low, but was caught by the falcata, twisted and disarmed by the hunter. Kendari cut across the chest of Lavress with the hot blade, through leather and flesh, smelling the burned blood as it rose in the cold air.
Cut badly, Lavress attacked the weapon instead of his enemy, locking their blades at the hilt, and then grabbed Kendari's other arm and whipped the two of them to the ground, arms tangled in front of them. They rolled and struggled, each losing the grip on their weapons as they pounded each others hands into the earth. The Nadderi's head shot back from a brutal head butt from the wood elf, and returned it with an elbow to the hunter's face. Both bleeding now from brawling, they threw and shoved until their grapple was loosed, and they spun to a knee facing each other. The elves caught their breath for a moment, seemingly an eternity of battle into the late of night, and stared at one another.
