by Joshua Roots
I sat there, struggling to stay mad. “Dammit, Steve.”
He grinned. “Took the wind out of your sails, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Guess I know you too well.”
“I’m still pissed.”
“And you should be. It wasn’t my fault, but it was my doing. I’ll take the blame for that.”
I fumed, but more because I’d been robbed of yelling at him than anything. But my pettiness wasn’t going to get us anywhere. What we needed was a plan to fix the real issue, the one that started and ended with the Minotaurs.
Actually, first I needed to finish what I’d started with my busted rib. Coming down off my adrenaline-and anger-induced high, the ache in my side was harder to ignore. Thankfully, the long hike had allowed me time to recharge my powers.
Since Combat Warlocks were the pointy tip of the spear for the Skilled, we got beaten up more often than we liked. As such, we were forced to learn battlefield triage, including one hell of a Healing Spell. Although a pale substitute for being treated by an expert, the magic worked in a pinch for most non-life-threatening injuries.
Closing my eyes, I placed my hand over my rib and spoke the words we were taught early on in training. Siphoning the power of earth beneath me, I concentrated on the bone and muscle, refining the work I’d begun earlier that day. I smoothed rough edges, numbed sore areas, and connected all the sexy dots required to patch my body back together.
I double-checked my work, then released my hold on the spell. I twisted, noting the stiffness, but was pleased that I’d successfully healed myself. A year earlier I wouldn’t have been able to do such a thing. Even better, the hangovers that normally followed me using so much Skill in such a short period of time were becoming less frequent and severe. Maybe all my months of training were paying off.
The warmth lingered for a few moments before fading, like my anger at Steve.
With my side fixed, I turned my attention to the small cut on my shoulder. Repairing that injury took almost no effort at all, however the rip in my jacket was another matter. That would have to wait since it required the small sewing kit buried deep in my bag.
Having finally mended my wounds, my belly demanded attention.
“So how do we deal with your people?” I asked, pulling some jerky out of a side pocket and biting off a large piece.
He faced the mountain before us. “Carefully.”
I followed his gaze, drinking in the woods that stretched up the slope. Unlike the Centaur homeland, snow, thick and deep, covered the countryside. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the scene. Pine trees poked out of the white blanket like little green needles.
Steve was silent. His eyes were focused somewhere else, no doubt lost in the memories of his previous life. The muscles of his jaw clenched as he exhaled.
“It’s very pretty here,” I said.
He nodded.
I shivered. “It also friggin’ cold. Any chance we get a move on here?”
My buddy glanced down at me, a storm of emotions raging across his face. “There’s a pass that starts at the base near here. It will lead us to my homeland. We need to be extra cautious,” he added, heavily. “While the Centaurs may have given us clemency entering their land, the Minotaurs will do no such thing. Intruders are unwelcome, to say the least.”
A pang of fear flashed in my gut. “Is there any way to call ahead?”
He actually chuckled. “We already did by pissing off the Centaurs. Word travels fast among paranormals. We may prefer to keep to ourselves, but that doesn’t stop the flow of information. Like gossip, threats from the outside world spread faster than wildfire. I have no doubt the Minotaurs know we are coming.”
“‘Outside’ meaning human.”
“For most species, yes. For Minotaurs, it’s everyone.”
Well crap.
He inhaled deeply, releasing a long, steaming breath. “Okay, let’s roll. Oh, and Marcus?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens, please don’t kill anyone.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of horrors we were stepping into.
* * *
An hour of slogging through the snow later, I was less agreeable to the idea of sparing the life of a Minotaur. Why the hell couldn’t they threaten to secede in May? Stupid species with their stupid isolationism in stupid, frozen Canada.
My boots were nearly soaked by the time the path leveled off. Thanking whatever Higher Power had provided me the strength for the climb, I relished the flat, bumpy trail as it wound through the woods. Keeping my senses on alert, I followed Steve as he led us deeper into the forest.
It was early evening by the time we reached the perimeter of Steve’s homeland. There was nothing physical like the creek that defined the Centaur territory, but rather an invisible barrier that radiated with power. My Skill buzzed as it pressed against my senses. The energies radiating from it vibrated with an intensity that I was willing to bet even a Normal would be able to feel.
I stepped back. “Wow.”
“Yeah, it keeps most magical creatures out.”
“Most?”
“No lock is impervious to being picked. Lucky for us, I know the combination.”
Steve placed a palm against the invisible barrier. The buzzing quieted to a soft hum while the force pressing against my Skill nearly vanished. Without waiting, he stepped through the “doorway” with me right on his heels. A moment later he removed his hand and we were immediately swallowed by the spell of his people.
The magic smothered me, muting my Skill entirely. The woods that I had been so keenly aware of since we’d first arrived in Bangor suddenly felt distant and alien. And while the Centaur homeland had radiated with life, the ground beneath me now was devoid of it. All personality and emotion were literally missing. Even the air felt heavy and oppressive.
My head swam as I struggled to process the lack of elemental energy around me. Not too many years ago, cutting me off from one of my sources of power wouldn’t have made much of an impact. Now I was violently aware of it.
I turned to mention it to Steve, which was stupid because the world tilted sideways.
He gripped my shoulder and forced me upright. The universe flipped-flopped before slowly settling into something quasi-tolerable.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you about that.”
I struggled to calm my wobbly knees. “The Centaur homeland didn’t feel anything like this.”
“Nor would it. Most paranormals are products of the land and thrive off of it. Species like Elves, the Fae and Centaurs are especially attuned to nature. They use it, shape it, bond with it. It’s the nexus for their powers, as limited as those may be. Minotaurs learned long ago that the easiest way to protect ourselves from our enemies was to cut them off from their energy source.”
I shifted, uncomfortable with how distant the world around me felt. “I haven’t heard of many skirmishes between the species.”
He shrugged. “Hasn’t happened much in recent centuries, but my people have long memories. Better safe than dead.”
I shivered from the emptiness as much as the cold.
“You ready to move?” he asked.
I simply gave him a thumbs-up. It was safer for my stomach.
The longer we walked, the more hollow the woods around us became. Inch by inch, our travels took us deeper into the heart of the Minotaur homeland and farther from the world I was familiar with. I kept my senses on high alert, but without being able to communicate with, hell, anything, it did me little good. Worse, lacking that connection meant that whatever happened in this strange land would require me to rely solely on my own internal battery of Skill.
With any luck, I wouldn’t need to.
Unfortunately, luck was
a commodity in short supply these days.
Steve’s ears pricked up and he froze. Having learned my lesson from the Centaur assault, I went stiff as well.
“Dammit,” I muttered. “Jinxed it.”
Unlike the Centaurs, the attack was immediate. No preamble, simply the rush of metal and fur.
“Red alert,” Steve snapped, but I was already moving.
Combat Warlocks were trained to maximize their effectiveness in a fight by sipping power. Considering I was cut off from the forest around me, and therefore had zero options to quickly refill my bucket of magic, I was grateful to have learned that lesson. Skimming a fraction of available energy, I pushed my Skill to its highest level of sensitivity and scanned the area.
I felt the compression of air as an arrow sliced through the space where my head had been seconds earlier. There was a rush of wind as it missed me, but when I tried to backtrack its flight path, I found nothing but emptiness. Another arrow registered on my senses and I dropped, narrowly avoiding taking it to the chest.
While I danced and weaved, Steve went on the offensive. With a snarl, he dove behind a tree. A moment later, he emerged with an enormous Minotaur in tow. He slammed the creature against the trunk so hard, all the snow was knocked from the branches. The attacker released his bow and reached for a knife on his belt, but Steve dropped him with a swift punch to the snout.
Behind me feet crunched in the snow. I spun, drawing my sword as I dove out of the way. An enormous hammer slammed into the ground nearby, rattling my teeth. Loosening one of the quick-release straps on my backpack, I dropped the bag, then raised my blade to intercept another swing of the hammer. I dumped energy into my body, fusing metal and muscle in order to create a veritable wall of steel with my sword-arm a heartbeat before the weapon reached me.
Despite the boost of density, the impact of the hammer sent vibrations throughout my frame. My bones trembled and my skull buzzed as the force of the blow turned my innards into jelly. I gasped, both in shock and pain, then shoved more Skill into me to deflect another attack.
The hammer kept coming and I could do little more than react. At one point I was able to block a particularly violent swing, which opened a window for my own assault. I powered up my Skill, stepped forward, and drove my empty fist into my attacker’s stomach.
The Minotaur didn’t even grunt.
“Oh hell,” I muttered, scampering backward as he unleashed a new wave of swings.
Blow after blow, I was forced to tap deeper into my magical reserves. I was stronger than even a year ago and my endurance exponentially better, but at the rate this duel was going it was only a matter of time before I ran out of juice. When that happened, the Glock would be my only option for survival.
Rather than let the fight get to that point, I did something I wasn’t entirely comfortable with: I jumped into the Skill pool with both feet.
Normally I don’t mess with Water Spells. Unlike other elements, water is heavy and the exertion of manipulating it can be exhausting. Thanks to the reality of physics, trying to lift several gallons of water required a lot of physical strength that I simply lacked.
But snow? That was the cheater’s version of the element. And at that moment, I wasn’t above hitting below the belt.
Dropping to my knees, I shoved my sword into the ground and scooped up a handful of the frozen liquid. Despite my inability to communicate with the forest, the molecules of the element still bent when manipulated by my Skill. Granted, I had to put a metric butt-ton of energy into the spell, but the snow responded, albeit slowly. It was like turning a battleship or rowing a canoe through molasses, but eventually thick ice covered my gloves.
The move was not without a cost. The seconds that I’d wasted creating the spell allowed my attacker to close the distance.
Good.
He moved like lightning, the hammer a blur of metal and wood. I sprang forward, dodging the mallet but grabbing the handle in my icy grip. With my other hand, I sucked up as much power as I could from my reserves, then drove my fist into the creature’s hand. Tough flesh absorbed most of the impact, but the smaller bones of my assailant’s fingers snapped. The Minotaur grunted, loosening his grip on the hammer, but he didn’t let go.
Unwilling to give up the advantage, I struck again, pumping more Skill into the punch. Weakened already, the bones broke like fine china dropped on tile, and the Minotaur went to one knee. Redirecting my aim, I slammed my fist into his snout, unleashing everything I could muster. The first strike did little to faze him. The second sent him to the snow face-first.
My victory was short-lived as three more Minotaurs, each wielding humongous broadswords, erupted from the woods.
“A little help here,” I shouted, grabbing my sword with an icy hand and backpedaling.
“You got it,” Steve replied, leaping from the shadows and barreling into the trio at full speed. He dropped one with a boot to the side of the head and another with a wicked right hook. The third ducked, wrapping her arms around Steve’s waist, and lifted him off his feet.
The move proved to be her undoing as Steve slammed his head into hers. She staggered and released him. The second he hit the ground, he grabbed her horns, then jerked her down, driving his knee into her face. Her arms went slack and she collapsed.
More Minotaurs poured into the fight.
“We’re about to run out of nonlethal options,” I shouted, tapping into the last of my Skill’s reserves. Already the exhaustion was eating at my mind, and my hands felt heavier than they had moments earlier.
“I was hoping to avoid this,” Steve grumbled.
Before I could ask him what he was talking about, he crouched, then released an unholy roar. It thundered through the trees, echoing off the mountain like a cannon shot. My ears rang and my eyes watered.
The charging Minotaurs all screeched to a halt, their faces filled with terror. Then they dropped to their knees with heads bowed.
“What just happened?” I asked, staring at the frozen Minotaurs. Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he walked up to the nearest creature, an enormous beast almost double Steve’s size, and yanked him to his feet by his horns.
“You are the leader,” Steve snarled. It wasn’t a question.
The Minotaur grunted in pain.
Steve pulled the creature’s ear to his snout. “I know you can understand me.” He gripped the horn tighter. “Answer or I will snap this off.”
“I am the leader,” the Minotaur replied in heavily accented English.
Steve jerked the creature’s head away once more. “Name!”
“Lythos.”
“Lythos,” my buddy echoed in a mocking tone. “I figured. Nothing more than a runt last I remember. Still are if you allow someone as pathetic as this human to best one of your warriors.”
“Hey,” I said, but Steve was too focused on his prey to pay me any mind.
“This entire attack was nothing more than an exercise in disappointment. Your people are weak and poorly trained. You, personally, will return to the Alpha and tell her of your defeat at the hands of one Minotaur and one human. Your remaining warriors will stay behind to escort us so another unworthy assault doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”
“I only—”
“That is a yes-or-no question, Lythos,” Steve snapped.
The gargantuan Minotaur flinched. “Yes.”
Steve emitted a low, chilling growl, then released the creature. “Go.”
Lythos scooped up his weapons and vanished into the woods in the blink of an eye. The remaining Minotaurs helped their comrades to their feet. The one I’d done a number on held his busted hand. He gave me the once-over, then nodded.
“Well fought, human,” he said as the rest of his clansmen surrounded us. They checked themselves over while one of them handed me my backpack. Sat
isfied they had everyone, we all headed deeper into the woods.
I looked up at my friend. “What. The. Hell?”
“Not now.”
“But—”
“Later,” he hissed.
We walked in eerie silence. The woods remained hushed and muted, growing darker the farther we trekked. I had no doubt if we died out here, no one would ever find our bodies.
Aw, man, Quinn would be so pissed.
After what felt like ages, a light appeared in the distance. The closer we drew, the brighter it became until we reached the edge of a small open plain. In the center of it was an enormous frontier town. Log cabins lined dirt streets while lanterns hung from wooden posts, illuminating the township. Young Minotaurs fought each other in pens that looked like they were designed for livestock, while their parents watched intently from the fences.
As we approached, Minotaurs near the edge of town barked loudly when they saw us. More beasts emerged from homes, gathering by the dozens, then the hundreds. The murmur from the crowd started low but grew quickly. It sounded like the bleating of alarm.
My muscles tensed. There was no way Steve and I could take this many of them. We should run. Now.
The sound clarified and I relaxed, but only a little.
No, not alarm.
Cheers.
We entered the perimeter of the village to the deafening roar of applause and bestial grunts. The crowd continued to grow, filling the streets. Spectators pushed against one another, shouting unintelligibly as they reached for us. The scent of unwashed livestock quickly overwhelmed my senses, smothering me with the stench of body odor. Our escorts helped folks out of the way, plowing a trail through the mass of bodies.
The streets wound past countless homes, eventually leading to a large structure with several guards posted out front. We stopped at the base of the stairs. The crowd continued their cheering, eventually joining as one in a syncopated chant that I couldn’t understand.
The guard on the right held up a hand and the crowd hushed instantly. Then he slowly opened the doors of the building, stepping out of the way as a regal female walked outside. She wore a brilliant white dress that draped off one shoulder and was held with a gold clasp. Her horns were adorned with gold rings, which accented her tan fur and supple bronze skin.
