by Ivy Cross
Mayna puts a bolt between the eyes of the one on the left. The creature sprawls to the dirt, its lanky limbs flailing out and tangling with the legs of the warrior running next to it. With a loud shriek, the other one topples to the floor as well, sliding almost the full distance to Mayna’s feet.
I leave her to finish with the fallen Valat and spring across the distance to the other two. They are unmasked and unarmed, so I sheath my weapon before engaging.
The beasts rush forward as one. Their maws gape open to show their collection of hideous broken yellow teeth, as they try to get near enough to sink them into my flesh.
I catch the one on the right with a firm kick to the chest, crushing the bone like the flesh of an overripe gourd. The thing gurgles to the ground and dies in an instant.
The other Valat gets close enough to rake its short, jagged claws across my upper arm. The bright lines of burning pain only serve to increase my focus.
My hand shoots out and locks onto the creature’s throat. Its thin, sinewy body seems to weigh almost nothing as I pull it off its feet to stare into its eyes.
“There should have been more,” Mayna says, stepping up from behind.
I snap the Valat’s neck and watch as the life leaves its body. They are vile creatures, yes, but they still draw from the same pool of life as the rest of us. Their defeat will add to my essence, just as one day mine will add to that of the warrior who comes to fell me.
“There should have been,” I agree. “The horde tends to group together at most times but, even if not, that ruckus should have brought any stragglers down on us by now.”
Almost as though summoned by my words, a lone Valat warrior bursts into the room and scoots to a halt before us. It too is without its mask, and its close-set yellow eyes give it a look of some cunning. That, plus its above-average size, marks it out as the alpha of this warren.
“No weapons,” I say to Mayna as I step to the side. This is to be her fight and hers alone. It is the reason we are here—for her to prove herself in battle while facing her greatest fear.
“I am not blind,” Mayna replies. The heat in her words is a clear indication that she still feels the tension from this place.
She hooks her boltbow to a loop on her leathers, then steps forward, lowering her stance and center of gravity and preparing to grapple with the Valat leader.
The beast drops back into a crouch with the fluidity of a mud eel. It bares its teeth and makes a grating, hiss-like sound.
Valat are not usually very large, but they make up for their lack of size with unparalleled speed. This one, however, is larger than any I have seen. Mayna is tall for a woman, only a little more than a head shorter than me, but she is only about a hand’s breadth taller than this alpha.
The Valat lunges forward without warning, its clawed hand becoming a blur as it takes a swipe at Mayna’s face. She pulls back out of reach at the last moment, then tries to grab for the Valat, but it dances back from her with ease.
Fast and large…
Mayna lets out a loud roar and presses forward, moving the Valat farther back toward the dirt wall at the side of the room. The creature darts a glance back, as though aware she is trying to pin it in.
I have fought enough Valat in my day to understand there is something unique about this one. Most of their warriors are mindless drones, prone to flinging themselves into battle with almost no consideration for strategy or self-preservation.
This Valat alpha, by the other token, has a surprising shrewdness. I would not go so far as to say intelligence, but there is form in the creature’s footwork and a kind of caution in its eyes. Even as Mayna pushes the Valat back, it sidesteps subtly, making her efforts less effective.
Mayna sees the same things I do and gives up on the sly approach. She lunges forward, using the whole of her considerable height and grabs for the Valat. Her move is fast, blindingly so, but the Valat still drops back out of reach in time—barely.
In its franticness, the Valat smashes into the stacked stone support in the middle of the wall. The force is great enough to send the large stones toppling over, bringing down a spray of packed soil and rocks from the wall and ceiling in that section. Large clods continue to pour down until the dazed Valat is nearly covered.
Mayna shrieks, falls back hard on her rump, then skitters back from the falling debris. “Cave-in! Cave-in!” Her voice is shrill and shines with horror.
The dirt has already stopped its downward flow, but it is clear by her wide, wild eyes that Mayna cannot see more than her fear will let her.
“Mayna!” I shout. “Slow your breathing. Calm your—”
“Get out!” she wails. “We must get out of here now!”
It is too late. The Valat alpha shakes off its cloak of dirt and rubble and pounces atop the stricken warrior. Its sharp claws go to work immediately, tearing at the soft flesh of Mayna’s throat and face.
I step forward, then stop myself.
Honor dictates that I allow this to play itself out. Mayna engaged the beast one-to-one as a way to prove her worth as a warrior and a potential guard under my command. We would both be dishonored if I stepped in to save her.
She will either find honor in victory… or in death.
Mayna tries to shove the creature off of her, but her arms wobble with panic and the Valat clings on. She does not cry out in pain but, from the look in her eyes, I doubt she even feels it. Her mind has cast her back to that fateful day of her youth—has again trapped her in a night-dark prison of dirt and stone. Of helplessness.
I watch in horror as the Valat hammers its fists down again and again, the sound a perverse imitation of the drumbeat from our season-end celebrations. But it is no longer Mayna I see sprawled upon the dirt floor.
Her face is changed, shifted to softer curves and fairer complexion. Her thin lips become fuller and richer—the lips I used to see so often in smile and laughter. The lips I last saw blue and drained of that once happy life that filled her whole body.
Llea. My sister.
Honor be damned. I will not fail you again.
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—Ivy
