"I can't see any sign in the trees, nor anything monster-sized around the beach. No tracks or destruction in the treeline. I would expect to see something, wouldn't you think?" Van Reiver observed, rolling to face Mathyss. He couldn't help himself grin at the insects. There was something ethereal, something graceful in their gentle motions.
Mathyss nodded, reaching the same conclusion somewhat quicker.
"Have you ever dealt with anything this large before?" Van Reiver pressed the close-mouthed elf, trying again to seek any hidden information. To assuage his earlier hunch.
"No. Not overland like this, but so few of my people live here, and mostly near the coast. The island interior is unclaimed, excluding a few farms. My people prefer the sea, but we improve our resources with riches in timber and metal, so worth the effort now we rarely see our landed cousins for trade and news. It is uncommon to see such leviathans on this shoreline as it deepens beyond a nearby reef." He gave a wry smile. "Stay safe. Have the men follow several paces behind and spread out."
Mathyss rose, impatient with the wait, and led the elven scouts out onto the shingle beach, their steps light, crunching on the sand and shells that ramped up to the brooding treeline. Van Reiver waved to Merizus and Grimm, who directed Tryphon's crewmen to follow. Carla trailed at the rear with Dagmar on his litter, the latter arguing vociferously in hushed whispers with Hatch.
Van Reiver spared them a glance before stepping out. He watched Mathyss dance light-footed across the beach, an arrow to his bow as he scanned for signs of the enemy. After several long moments, he circled the perimeter in delicate soundless steps while scanning the trees and undergrowth.
The Tryphon crew formed three ranks with weapons readied in sweaty hands. They exchanged silence, not words, as dozens of pairs of uneasy eyes danced around, with rasping breaths a cacophony over thudding hearts. Feeling silly, Van Reiver slid his dagger out and tightened his grip on the wire and ivory hilt. The weight felt strange and alien in his hand. Still, at least it was a big enough target he planned to fight with the unfamiliar weapon.
He wished he could stop over-thinking. Worrying at fear and hunches and the mutters from men out of sight. His decision to journey here would give his fellow humans a chance. A better one than when they'd left Tryphon, if he was honest with himself. Death was a friend these days, and its embrace a possibility now, rather than a certainty. With a little luck, they might avoid being worm-food. Fuckwit, think harder! his inner voice screamed as though it was alongside him. He shivered despite the humidity, chilled by fear and racked with self-doubt as he rechecked his section was keeping to their unfamiliar formation with Merizus and Grimm leading the other two. Ephraim and one of Mathyss' men brought up the rear, bows ready, with their eyes on stalks for the slightest movement.
.*.*.
Mathyss sprinted to the cave and cocked his head for several seconds at the entrance before looking back to Kandra and shaking his head in exaggeration. Unslinging his pack, he extracted a fresh brand and concentrated with flint and steel for several maddening seconds until it caught. He glanced and breathed life into the burgeoning flames while listening for anything out of the ordinary until his mind imagined it for him. Miming a count of three on trembling fingers, he hurled the brand inside and snatched up his bow before the ember clattered to the floor, the flame hissing and popping. His backpack rolled to the side at a nudge as he drew the string on an arrow with the faintest of creaks.
Silence. Nothing else stirred. Nothing beyond the regular rasp of the sea on shingle, the rustling of the trees, and the steady crunch of approaching feet. The spluttering crackle of the burning brand was just discernible to Mathyss over the sea, but nothing else. No sound of fire as described by Dagmar, no sound of breathing from within. Nothing. Silence, bar the surf swishing to caress the small stones over the beach and scratch against the barnacled outcropping around the cave, disturbing the crabs and seaweed streamers. Mathyss glanced around, senses as taut as his bowstring. He waited for a vibration, any vibration against his fingertips. His scouts and the mass of seamen looked back, lined faces apprehensive as their hands clasping and unclasping weapons. He looked to Kandra; inscrutable as always and clearly at a loss, she shrugged and gestured for helms to be worn.
Where were they? Why had the cyclopta not attacked as they had annihilated his scouts? Hit them as they entered the beach? Something was amiss. Badly amiss, and it concerned Mathyss. What was out of place? What was it he did not see? No tracks indicated an elusive flight. Stealth, not battle. Had they returned inland? Were they waiting with cunning precision? The entrance lay open and unopposed. So, what malice could the creatures' plan when forewarned?
Taking a chance, he peeked around the entrance. There was little beyond darkness and the flare of his torch on the floor. No heat sources bloomed from giant or beast. Backing out, he paused, his foot raised, as a ghostly chill feathered his spine. Had his torch moved? He stared until his eyes teared. What was in there? Was she alive? Dare he hope that? Did something move?
The cave entrance exploded in a shower of flying dirt and stones as a strident bellow advertised the giant bi-headed bear's ambush. A ragged strip of dirty sailcloth flapped upwards from the maelstrom, discarded in its wake. Mathyss realised in an eye blink the deviousness of their enemies and how well they knew his elven capabilities and lured them in. They'd buried the bear under the dirt-sprinkled canvas, and scattered shells to nullify its heat—to hide it from his elven infravision—while he half-blinded himself with his own torch.
Introspection fled as Mathyss sprang right on instinct. Shingle scattered, and he loosed his arrow. The giant animal surged, the arrow slamming into the left paw as it sliced at him, cleaving a vortex through the air and chipping shards from the passage. Kandra's arrow streaked between the snarling heads a heartbeat later, the first of several. Scimitar-like claws missed, but part of the creature brushed him in its rush, splintering his shaft. Mathyss tripped over his backpack, sprawling onto his face with a muffled grunt.
Ignoring him, the bear roared and, eclipsing the sunlight, bellowed a bestial challenge as it crashed headlong into Merizus's men, pawing and snarling. A dozen men reeled, a comparable number shoving back with spears, frantically twisting the claws away. Dark grooves tore through the shingle where the bear drove Merizus's men backwards through sheer strength. Mathyss saw the feral strength lean on their spear points, straining sweat-slick grips and torturing the desperate clasp of leather on wood.
.*.*.
Van Reiver's men heaved, sobbing, rasping, grunting, as they flanked the bear to Merizus’ left on the seaward side. Someone was crying, begging for it to be over. There was no time for Van Reiver to find out who—it didn't matter—or would the weak link end them? A man fell, flattened by a massive paw swiping his spear aside and hammering him flat like a rodent. The bear spun to rake the man, but jabbing spears frustrated the beast, tangling claws and limiting its mobility. Babbling fearful whimpers and unintelligible prayers, the man scrabbled free of the terrible claws at an incredible speed for a human.
"Try for its eyes!" rasped Merizus, his voice carrying. Van Reiver guessed it frustrated Merizus, seeing bolts and arrows wasted through jittery releases. The navigator could see them hiss overhead, missing wildly or thumping into dense matted fur. They’d been lucky, but it wouldn't last and never did. Inevitably, someone would fall to the festering claws. Someone barged Van Reiver, and he shoved them away to see the huge serjeant raise his crossbow, aim and fire in one fluid motion, striking underneath the left eye of the growling grey head. Both heads roared, united in pain as the beast reared, snarling an ungodly chorus.
A second, harder blow on his spine almost sent a blindsided Van Reiver stumbling into the maw of the grey head. As he opened his mouth to make his death scream, he felt Merizus punched his ankhbow butt into Van Reiver. All breath whistled away as the navigator stared certain death in the pit of its reeking mouth, then furrowed sand through his right eye slit in the next in
stant. Coughing, he rolled as hands shoved him out of harm's way with a cacophony of grunts and curses. He blinked tears, joyful tears at being alive, through sweat and grit. Relief was one all-encompassing emotion, and rage surpassed it as his vision cleared. He glared, pawing at watery eyes, at the men heaving and jabbing, and one man—a thin man—stared sideways at him. Not the fucking giant bear, him.
Fury energised Van Reiver, and he was on his feet in an instant. The bear snatched his attention with another roar that pulsed through his stomach, rattled his teeth together and even sent Merizus back a step. When he looked back, the man had melded into the ranks; a shorter, wider man filled the space now. He looked around, shaking his head as though his imagination was running amok. Van Reiver looked up. Merizus returned his stare as he inspected and reloaded, then shrugged. Shit. What next? Shit. One of his own fucking men had tried to end him. Now of all the bloody times. Fuck, who?
More arrows struck with dull thwacks, as the faster firing elves raked the exposed chest and throats, sending the animal staggering back, reeling from the heavy cloth-yard shafts.
"Grimm! Blockade the cave! Keep it exposed!" Van Reiver commanded, raising his shaking voice over the booming bestial snarls and the pounding of his heart as he shook the distraction away more firmly. Barking orders, Van Reiver adjusted his body of men to block any route to the sea, trapping it with walls of humanity and steel. His men moved as fast as feet could scrabble and sent a dozen spears thudding into the animal's side, puncturing deep enough to draw blood. The filth, the dense fur and sheer muscularity of the beast made each strike a trivial annoyance though. As it thrashed among the spear points, trying to claw them away, and make space to swing, he worried it would take time they didn't have before it weakened.
"Again!" Van Reiver hollered until his throat burned.
"Again!" Merizus repeated. "One, two, heaveeeee! One, two, heaveeeee!"
All they could do was drive it across the beach, pin it against the rock, or keep it off-balance and hope someone got lucky. Dumb luck, what a fucking audacious plan. Their discipline was paying off as they held and drove it back. Pushed and pulled, the beat struggled to deploy the prodigious strength in each leg. Serendipity however, arrived with Merizus's fourth bolt. Van Reiver saw the black quarrel strike an eye. A splash of gore flicked across the shingle and men. Unlike before, the bear lurched back and ducked the injured head and allowed the spearmen to press in with a growing momentum of their own.
.*.*.
Behind the creature, Mathyss saw Grimm's men re-forming at the cave mouth and barricading off its lair. Wheezing, the elf commander struggled to his feet, shaking his head. Mathyss didn't think the blockade would survive if the bear fled back inside. Although the humans contained it, they were stalling, consuming their strength with the weakest threat. He bent to retrieve his bow, but it lay in two pieces several feet apart, connected by the frayed string. A testimonial to the strength of the beast who'd snapped it like a twig. His heart plunged. It had been his sister's last gift to him. A cherished possession of a happier age, when they had the luxury of endless time together. Time to practice together for fun, not the hunt and killing man upon beast, upon man. Now kindling, like his former life. His fate—his sudden loneliness made him want to weep. Something he couldn't do when commanding his scouts and the humans. His scouts would understand, the humans might not, as his sorrow quenched his anger, then receded under his rage.
In an instant, the elf commander shrugged free of his useless quiver and sprinted unsteadily through Grimm's men, drawing his longsword in a glittering arc of sunlight-caressed steel. Building momentum with his hatred, he unleashed a vicious horizontal slash at a rear leg. His steel sliced through fur, parted flesh and the bunched muscle underneath, severing the hamstring. The bear thundered the mother of all screams as it skittered around—no bear should move like that—lashing with outstretched claws to gut him. Fear crushed incredulity, and he dived aside, rolling to his feet, expecting it to follow. Instead, the enraged bear slammed into Van Reiver's spears, driving them towards the sea.
Mathyss cursed as he pushed himself to his feet. He stepped back to give the spearmen room and waved Grimm forward. Huge paws bigger than plates with knife-like talons swiped at spears in an ever-growing frenzy. Every blow sent men sprawling. Batting the first ranks aside, it pounced, catching one man in the second full in the chest. Mathyss cursed again as his improvised plan toppled like the fighter. Humans were sluggish creatures compared to an elf. The fallen man proved that, with claws shredding armour and flesh before the human brain could make the unfortunate sailor move. The thick leather breastplate gaped open like a clam as blood and gore fountained. A lanky man at the back of Merizus's phalanx spun to flee but found a vice-like hand grasping his backplate and flinging him back into the action.
"Stand fast, Meaun, you useless shit! It'll hunt you down and gut you worse than a fuckin' hog! Like him—there! Hold fast!" The serjeant roared, purpling in fury, as he and Trevir reformed ranks. "Get back in fuckin' line, you slack-cocked ballbags! You're bricks in a wall, not a fucking pebble!" Merizus bellowed, losing patience, slapping the backs of helms with his gauntleted hand as more men considered flight. Mathyss grinned, humans were very different to fight alongside, but the enormous man seemed worthy of the respect given by the seamen. He seized attention like a born warrior.
The bear lurched, freeing itself from the harsh embrace of churning steel, and staggered on injured legs. Distracted, Mathyss found himself face to face with the beast and his heart almost stilled. The fear—just fear—get over it, he snarled at himself. The commander ducked a claw with easy elven agility and scurried aside to avoid being speared in the cavorting melee as Grimm pressed in. Four maddened eyes narrowed, and then it launched itself through the spears, only to collapse inelegantly, a yard short. Mathyss jerked back with a bitten off curse and stumbled onto his backside. If he'd been human, it would have torn him in two. He rolled sideways as a lashing claw impaled shingle by his boot. Then, the leg he'd gashed buckled under the stress of the charge, tearing the bear's knee joint asunder. Bones and sinews popped as the shingle ran crimson.
"Reform and stand fast! Hold, men! Hold, I say! Keep, your, fuckin', ranks!" Merizus boomed, allowing Mathyss to scramble out of the way and flip himself to his feet. He might pretend later he'd acted to distract the beast, but his racing heart and sodden palms knew he was lying. Impressing no-one. He knew he wasn't the only one.
Not daring to look up, Meaun guiltily sidled back into ranks. Mathyss could imagine the crimson-face shame inside his helm. The elf looked back to the bear and roared a challenge. To his ears it sounded feeble compared to the beast, but it was enough to pull the four eyes to him. The right head huffed as he raised his sword and took a pace back. It limped forward and Mathyss could see the fur bunching on its shoulders. He gulped and backed away faster.
In a lightning-fast move, Merizus dropped his crossbow, drew his elven longsword with a rasping kurrching and slashed the functional rear leg. Blade and flesh crunched as the serjeant all but severed the limb. Several cheers sounded as the bear screamed, losing all balance as bone fragmented and it plunged onto its belly. Both heads snapped from Mathyss and focused their malevolent stare on Merizus. Using its front claws, the bear dragged itself inexorably towards him, fuelled beyond rage by an eternal madness. The talons rasped through the shingle like daggers as it hauled its prodigious bulk closer, a few snuffling feet at a time. The eyes never left the serjeant as it strained its bloody passage.
"Stay back!" Merizus spread his arms wide and his ranks broke away. Copying Mathyss, the serjeant backed out of reach, forcing the animal to haul its useless limbs behind it, trailing arterial blood to paint hot trails over the beach. Its breath rasped. Snorting bubbles through both muzzles, one dark maw snapping at him, the other wheezing in hoarse gasps.
"Keep it moving!" Mathyss called and scanned around. Merizus drew Betsy offhand with a deep chiming rasp and lingered near, encour
aging the bear to crawl for him. He twisted both blades to catch the light on the cutting edge and crossed them in a steely chime. No-one spoke. No-one wanted to break the spell as the bear forged a bloody path towards Merizus.
One person disobeyed. Kandra sped past Van Reiver's men and hurtled behind Mathyss, scattering shells and stones. She dropped her longbow and quiver in passing, then performed an audacious flip onto the beasts' broad back. Grim-faced, she grasped the blood-slick matted fur in one hand, scrabbling around the head for the bolt that Merizus had fired into the creature's eye, but which had not penetrated into the skull. Mathyss goggled, then shook himself and waved both arms forward for attack.
Kandra used all the leverage she could muster, her hold straining a hair's breadth from breaking, as fangs snapped and snarled at her hand. Groaning with the strain of being tossed and bucked, she reached, missed, reached again and grasped the shaft. Her scarred face twisted with fury, then punched the steel-tipped shaft into the brain. The mouth snapping at her flopped open almost stupidly, and reeking blood gushed as though a rank wine keg burst.
The majestic animal convulsed, twice jerking Kandra in a brutal half-circle of flying blood and stone before flinging her off. Mathyss dived for the bow as his friend tumbled into a roll to end up against Merizus' feet. Heart in his mouth, Mathyss snatched an arrow from the quiver and ran on. Merizus sent the men in, granting precious seconds for her and himself. The bear snarled as they hampered its movement He slowed at the sound of her groan and released the tension on the bow. It was as though a weight lifted from his chest when Merizus bent to haul Kandra to her shaky feet. The marine stepped back and studied the elf for injuries. She rocked on unsteady feet and laid a hand coated in the animal's blood to the side of her head. Looking at the blood soaking her gauntlet, Mathyss saw her grimace and flex her fingers from her death-grip. She saw Mathyss approach and winced. Wisely, Mathyss said nothing. If she was bruised, battered, and winded—which he was in little doubt she was—his friend would heal soon. She always had, and he could yell at her later, when human ears were not listening.
THE TRYPHON ODYSSEY (The Voyage Book 1) Page 37
