by O. J. Lowe
That’s why you left nothing to chance. Another push of the button on his summoner and in came his second trump card, one second silence except for the clicking of Eight Eyes mouthpiece and the breathing of the wolves, the next the roar of a challenge. Bloodthirsty and ready for the fight ahead. Giant footsteps crashed to the ground as Griz went onto all fours and bared his teeth, each of them the size of Theo’s little finger. It took a lot to draw attention away from the big bloody spider and yet Griz had that presence. The bulk that made up that body was practically all muscle, barely covered by the thick pelt. The best part of a ton of perpetually angry bear stood flanking the spider, claws digging into the dirt, ears pricked and another bellow shaking the forest.
That did it. Some of the eyes were already fading away, melting back into the undergrowth, slinking away with their tails between their legs. That gave him a gentle surge of… Weird. A tickling sensation deep in the pit of his stomach, alien, unfamiliar to him. Perhaps it could be called pleasurable. It never had been something he’d made a regular companion. That led to complacency and that got you nowhere. Yet this was as close to a sure win as it was likely to get, right now. Whatever they might think about preying on a lone traveller, fighting a giant toxic spider and a ferocious looking bear wasn’t something they clearly wanted to do. He’d psyched them out. Two dead. Nine left if he’d counted right. Possibly eight. He possibly hadn’t counted right. He needed to keep his head in the game, not drop his guard. All it too was one to sneak up on him. One final driving act?
“Griz, send them off,” he said, pointing out into the woods. Right where he guessed the biggest concentration of them was. “Light it up!”
Griz rose onto his hind legs, even taller than Eight Eyes as he did, the energy foaming about his jaws, silvery blue and glittery gold all at the same time before he let loose the blast of light out into the dark of the forest, a magnificently brilliant beam of multi-coloured light that lit up the evening sky greater than any light he’d ever seen before, searing its way through the bushes and the trees, scorching everything it touched black. He heard at least one howl of pain, thought he smelled burning flesh and fur. That was the smell of success if nothing else. Burnt lupine in the morning.
He allowed himself a smile. That was when the attack came.
It hit him from behind, a great weight crashing hard into him and he went down, part instinct, part because his legs no longer felt able to support him and wolf both. He didn’t even have the chance to curse himself, curse his stupidity, instead he wriggled underneath the beast, felt teeth tearing at his back, his coat tore and pain flushed through him. It was a thick coat, it had undoubtedly kept it from his spine for a few spare moments.
Griz… By the time he turns, moves, fires, does anything, it’ll be too late… Eight Eyes… Worse. In close, precision isn’t that strong. Brute force, sheer power. If I get slashed, I’m as good as dead. No guarantee the wolf’s gonna die in time.
He brought back an elbow, felt something catch behind, something hard, flung out again and again; trying to distract it, drive it away, anything. Pain shot through his elbows, the crushing jaws searching out a new target. Any second now, his arm would break. If that went, he’d be in real trouble.
Unless…
It wasn’t an ideal situation. Doing this was dangerous enough under normal circumstances. And yet, was it really any worse than the alternative? Those thoughts went razor fast through his mind, deliberation would kill him for sure.
That made up his mind for him. All he really needed was contact and…
… Jaws clamped around his elbow, pressure cracking down, painpainpainpain…
… Go…
Normally claiming a spirit into a crystal could be a placid affair. The trick was to beat them down, not kill them, but render them helpless enough to not put up so much of a fight. It took a bit of practice at first, like anything, but soon judging it became second nature. Of course, doing it when they weren’t helpless and when they were massively pissed off…
Yeah… Mistake.
Initiating contact, it was like plunging his head into a boiling hot vat of water, the pain rushing through the very core of his being far crushed any physical pain he’d felt up to that point. It burned bad, fire in his skull, acid running through his blood. His bones felt like they’d been reduced to hot wax melting right there and then superfast. He choked, felt the bile rising in his throat and he wanted to let it go, break out there. It’d destroy him if he didn’t, burn him all up in one sudden swoop…
But he couldn’t. While he was struggling with the one-eyed wolf, it couldn’t kill him. He hadn’t been wrong in his count; one eye had been closed shut by a great crescent scar from ear to jaw. He could see that now, see it in all his glory as they took the battle from the physical level where the beast had the advantage, to the spiritual where he could level out the playing field. You didn’t survive in the wild without something. And he could feel it on the wolf. That force of nature, the will to survive, the power to dominate the pack… Huh, leader of the pack. That was fine, he was the leader of his own pack, a pack much tougher than a bunch of stupid wild dogs.
This had to be hurting it just as much as it was hurting him. All he had to do was hold out, if you couldn’t beat it, last the distance and out bear it. Theo struggled, tried to find something to get a metaphorical foothold into, something he could grab onto and not let go. There had to be a way, there was always a way.
It broke, just as quickly as he’d forced the connection…
Returning to consciousness, he found his jaw aching, his body feeling like one massive bruise. The forest still echoed with the sound of his screams, yells of agony and anguish he hadn’t heard while under… Griz let out a proud roar, the one-eyed wolf collapsed in a heap at the base of a tree, beaten and bloody, at least one leg broken. He could see the bone protruding out.
“Good, Griz,” he said, struggling up to his feet. He let out a wince, checked himself for any injuries. He’d get checked out next town he came to. For now, he felt well enough. He’d have to continue. No point resting. Way he felt right now, if he sat down he might not get back up. He wouldn’t want to get back up. If they’d attacked once, it was a good bet they’d do it again if they were given a chance. Passed out in the forest, they’d rip him to pieces. Time to walk quickly. But not before one thing. That bastard wolf had tried to kill him. He staggered over, moved to the still body and placed a hand on its neck.
“You’re mine now,” he grinned. His other hand brought out an empty container crystal; he placed it against One Eye’s fur and started to idly trace motions into it. They meant nothing. Allowing himself to feel that moment of superiority over something that had been so strong a moment ago and was now so much weaker than him, it brought up mixed emotions. Disgust over how much he was enjoying it.
It only took a second to take the soul, to draw everything that made the wolf what it was out of the beast, but it felt like a lifetime. It wasn’t going to fight. It couldn’t. Not like earlier. Simplest take he’d ever made. The body was probably already dying. It wouldn’t take long.
He called Eight Eyes back, summoned the spirit back into its crystal and made the gesture to Griz.
“I need a ride,” he said, looking the bear square on. He wouldn’t have minded it if it were in the eyes. He had to crane his neck back. “Drop. Now!”
To say the bear didn’t look impressed was an understatement. It eyed him the way it might once have looked at a salmon. It never would have attacked him. They couldn’t. Spirits couldn’t seriously harm the person who controlled them. They could be directed to inflict suffering on other people, but not the person who’d claimed them. Not directly anyway. If they were poisonous and accidentally bit you… Well, it was always a good idea to carry around anti-venom.
“Drop!”
That wasn’t to say they couldn’t be stubborn shits when they wanted to. Any sign of weakness and they’d slack off. They still did have a mind of
their own to a certain point. And it was up to the caller to drill that out of them. Looks like Griz hadn’t quite been informed of that yet.
“Griz.” Calm, cold, commanding. “Drop!”
The bear bent down, sniffed at his face. He could smell the breath on his face, could see the teeth. The roar came, he didn’t even flinch. Theo raised an eyebrow. “You done yet? Because I don’t want to spend longer here than I have to!” He didn’t raise his voice, just put a more forceful tone into it. “Come on, down. We’re getting out of here.”
He’d ridden Griz before. Once. As the great beast dropped down in front of him, he managed to hop up onto his back, grimacing at the pain in his body as he settled in comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could be. He grabbed handfuls of fur to serve as security against falling and patted Griz on the neck. It felt awkward doing it. Like he was acquiescing to the stubborn behaviour before. He balled his hand into a fist, debated it. Doing it would be stupid. A spirit didn’t like to harm its own caller, they were subservient to them after all. Most of them did bear a modicum of self-preservation. It didn’t mean Griz wouldn’t bite his fist off if he punched the irate bear to prove a point. Besides, he had done a good job. Well, satisfactory. What was demanded. To go for anything more would be overstating the point.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” he warned, not quite jabbing a finger into the bear’s neck but the point was there, a silent warning. “Let’s get out of here.”
Those damn wolves were still there in the trees around him, stalking, following, seeking out any hint of an opening to get to him. He could hear them, Griz could sense them. The growls rippling from the great throat in front of him sent vibrations through his entire body. Right now, that was keeping them at bay. They’d been beaten, he’d claimed their leader and they surely knew they couldn’t survive a head on confrontation with him. There weren’t that many left, he didn’t want to wipe the entire pack out but he would if he had to. Hatred wasn’t something he felt for them but at the same time, he wanted to keep on living a whole lot more. Mercy wasn’t in his nature.
Couldn’t give them a chance then. The rain was starting to intensify, water sluiced his face and neck, running down his shirt. He could feel the gooseflesh rising across his chest, forced down a shiver and urged Griz to hurry up. The wind bit through the holes in his jacket and shirt, it felt like the bites on his back were bleeding again. The pain was sharp if he moved too quickly, something he made a vow to try and avoid as often as possible. He gritted his teeth together and ground them, trying to ignore the discomfort. Not an easy task. Anything to stop them chattering. Griz wasn’t bothered. That big thick coat left him relatively comfortable.
Lucky bastard bear, he thought to himself.
That was when he saw the light in the distance for the first time, a bright light in the darkness, permeating through the murk and the trees, shining more brightly by the second. It hurt his eyes, he had to shield them with the length of his forearm.
What is that?! He almost said it aloud, shocked. Something wasn’t quite right there. Other people? Perhaps. It was about the only explanation that sprang to mind. Typical. Abandoned road, apparently not a soul for miles and he had to run into them. Maybe some sort of light spirit…
That made him pause for thought. You didn’t see those things every day. Rare bastards, they were. All sorts of strange and mysterious powers, the sort of which few had the ability to deal with. It would be remiss of him not to even investigate. Let it never be said he failed to grab a possible opportunity.
“Griz! Forward!” he barked, kicking his heels against the bear’s side, his boots scuffing roughly against the shaggy fur. Griz let out a disgruntled growl, barely audible above the humming threat of thunder, and made like he wanted to rise onto his hind legs and dislodge his rider straight into the mud. “Don’t even think about it!”
Something in his voice, almost as cold as his skin, must have made the bear think better of it for he padded forward ponderously. Theo pulled his coat up further around his neck and tried to suppress down a shiver. It had started to rain again.
The closer he got, the more gradually the feeling started to build up slowly in the pit of his stomach, a twitch of uncertainty niggling to him that just maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Something gnawed at him, something indescribable. He wasn’t used to acknowledging bad feeling and he didn’t like it. Maybe that was why he didn’t turn back. He wasn’t going to let it get the better of him. It’d be bad form for him to get used to backing away from bad feelings.
Even Griz looked affected. The normally bad-tempered bear was only plodding forward reluctantly, slowly sloping through the trees towards the light.
“Griz, faster,” he muttered. He hoped reluctance didn’t show in his voice. “Now!”
It didn’t do any good. If anything, the reverse. Griz barged through the next line of trees and came to a complete stop in the shadows of the light. Deep down, although he’d never voice it aloud, Theo couldn’t find it in himself to blame the bear. He found himself too frozen to the spot to apportion blame about, the sight before him sending shivers down his spine.
Something huge and yellow, almost indecipherable in shape because of the sheer size of it hovered in front of him. How nobody else had ever seen it before, he didn’t know. It was bigger than some buildings he’d seen, looming there in the darkness like something primal and vengeful. He felt miniscule compared to the mass of the being high above him, thousands of tiny sparks dancing about two giant wings where the rain spattered against them…
Holy mother of…
… was that a beak? It looked more like a sword, a golden sword that looked the size of the average mag-rail train. The feathers were jagged, lightning shaped and like nothing he’d ever seen before. Wicked talons twisted down from stunted feet, gouging at empty air. And then there were the eyes, fiery white with beady intent. It looked at him with interest, let out a squawk that sounded like the thunder ripping through the sky.
He took a step back, hands out in front of him as if they could protect him. He gulped, fought back the urge to let out a yell of fear. It was taking every ounce of control he had not to let that scream go. The terror rushed through him; he had no thought of fighting, only just getting as far as fleeing. Fighting it would be suicide, running wouldn’t get him anywhere. If he ran, it’d get him. There was no way he could outrun it. He was dead. The thing had wings the size of speeders; it’d be nothing for it to catch him.
Holding the scream in finally proved too much of an effort, he let it go, a strangled yelp of fear. It’d be on him now, surely…
Except, it wasn’t. It wasn’t paying him any attention. As much as he didn’t like being ignored, it felt like too much of a lucky break to turn down. Griz vanished, swept back into the crystal and he ran off into the trees.
True story, he’d never run so fast or for so long. By the time he’d stopped, the trees had thinned out and he could see the road again. The blessed road. For the first time, he glanced back into the forest, the way he’d come. Nothing. Whatever it was, it was long gone.
He wasn’t ashamed to breathe a sigh of relief. It was hard to avoid feeling like he’d had a lucky escape.
It took him several hours to make the next town, a small sleepy place that he wasn’t even going to try and find the name for. He didn’t care, all he wanted was what it could do for him right now. He’d had a hot meal, seen someone about his injuries. A doctor had seen the wounds on his back, he’d been stitched up and given a tetanus and now his body ached, his eyes felt heavy and he needed sleep. He wanted that more than anything. But there’d be time to sleep later. He had places to be and the aeroport awaited him. Carcaradis Island beckoned him. It wouldn’t wait for him; he wasn’t going to miss out on it because he needed sleep.
He could see the building ahead of him; it’d be a short ride. Just a little longer and he could rest. Every footstep brought about fresh longing; he hid more than one yawn on his walk until finally
he stepped into the port. It wasn’t a large terminal but it’d do. Next ship out to Vazara, half an hour. Perfect timing.
He paid his ticket and walked across to where it sat waiting. He was not the only one waiting. Maybe they were all going to the Quin-C as well. Maybe one day soon they’d tell their families about how they travelled out with the winner. He grinned at that despite the pain in his body and the memories of the doctor warning him to be more careful in future. His grin fell as rapidly as it had appeared. That’d mean people stopping him in the street, autographs, challenges, having to be nice to fucktarded strangers…
Theo stared up at the transport longingly. That thought didn’t make a difference to what he wanted to do. Just how he might have to go about it. When he won, he’d buy a hat, glasses and change his hair colour. That’d show anyone trying to bother him.
He removed his coat, immediately felt the chill heavy on his skin. He folded it up, tossed it in the closest trashcan. He wasn’t going to need it anymore; besides it had been ruined under his new spirit’s teeth. Next time he was in colder climes; he’d get a new one. One eyed bastard. And baggage wasn’t something he needed to be taking around with him.
Right now, he needed sleep more than anything. Already they were boarding, he presented his ticket to the stewardess and sloped into his seat. It wasn’t comfortable, he’d paid cheapest but it was a seat damnit. Way more comfortable than standing. Fastening his seatbelt in, he shifted to get comfortable and was immediately out for the count.
Chapter Four. The Great Statue.
“It’s more than a statue. It’s a symbol of hope. And I want people reminded that wherever they may go in this kingdom, hope will have a way of finding them. Because without hope, we have nothing.”
Quote attributed to Reiko Masuda, Head of the Burykian Divine Conclave.
