by Casey Odell
Another terrifying growl cut through the air. Claire turned back to the creature, but it was too late. The beast was already upon her as it leapt through the air. One of its enormous paws crashed into her and pinned her to the ground. Its considerable weight pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Her left hand had managed to hold onto the hilt, so she rose it up above her head and drove the blade into the beast’s furry ankle with all her might. A high pitched scream filled the room and Claire drew the sword from its leg as it jerked its paw off her. She rolled away and scrambled to her feet. Instinct took over and the pain from all of her injuries faded into the background. She swung around to face the beast again while she gripped the sword in front of her with both hands, shaking.
Its eyes found her again, accompanied by two rows of razor sharp teeth. The scream dwindled to a deep, rolling growl.
Claire stepped back until she was pressed against the stone wall. She couldn’t outrun the creature, at least not for long.
The beast charged at her again, but she stood her ground, waiting until the last moment before she leapt to the side. The creature’s immense body slammed into the wall behind her with a heavy thud. It lashed out with one of its paws and grazed her back enough to send her stumbling to the ground. Without hesitation, she rose to her feet again and started to run, her boots slipping slightly on the dusty floor.
She stopped abruptly in the center of the arena and spun back towards the creature. It had shaken off the impact and set its sights on her once again, its tail swinging back and forth through the air. She had to do something; the only thing she’d succeeded in doing so far was making it mad. It was either take a stand now or be too tired to fight later. And being eaten just didn’t sound all that appealing. She tried to suppress her terror, the part of her that told her to run. This is what she’d been training for, right?
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Somehow, she didn’t think Aeron’s training could have prepared her for giant beasts. He’d surely get a kick out of this.
She gathered up the rest of her strength and took deep breaths to help ease the tightness in her throat. With the sword held unsteadily in front of her, she made her stand, her knees slightly bent, ready for action. If she died here…well, it was probably best not to think of that at the moment.
The creature charged at her again and Claire dug her heels into the dirt to keep from running. It swung out at her with a paw and she ducked, crouching low on one knee. She scurried underneath the beast and slashed at its hind right leg. The creature screamed and jerked away from her. She started to run away when its tail slammed into the front of her and sent her flying, knocking the wind out of her completely as she crashed to the ground on her back.
A sharp pain in her side caused her to gasp as she lifted herself up and struggled to her feet again. She couldn’t afford any downtime. The creature licked at the fresh wound on its hind leg across the arena, emitting a high pitched whine.
She took the moment to look down at her side and her stomach sank. A spine the size of her hand stuck out of her side. Blood already started to soak into the surrounding fabric of her shirt. She collapsed to her knees and her arms went limp, the sword falling onto the floor.
Fire spread throughout her body almost instantly, burning through her veins, stinging across her skin. Her breath turned to shallow gasps. She fell forward on her hands as her vision started to blur, growing dim along the edges. She was too afraid to pull the spine out, but had a feeling that it was the cause of her current state. It must have infected her with some sort of poison. Her choices of death just increased. Either bleed to death, suffer from poison, or be eaten by a giant beast.
A faint blue glow caught the edge of her vision. She looked down at the mark as it suddenly burst to life. The black arms slowly started to creep up her skin, winding their way up her arm. The pain faded away, replaced by calm warmth. Then her body began to move on its own, leaving her mind to watch helplessly. Her right hand gripped the hilt of the blade as if the bloody wound was never there and she stood up. Her vision faltered, growing even dimmer.
Her left hand rose above her head and the air around it grew warmer, her skin tingling with energy. Fire from the surrounding torches drifted in a line towards her to form into a ball above her hand as the creature started to approach again with a heavy limp.
Claire hurled the fireball at the creature and the flames engulfed its face. It went wild as it tried to shake the flames away, filling the room with its loud screaming once again. Then her feet suddenly propelled her forward towards the creature. She drew her left hand along the blade of the sword as she ran. Energy sparked along the metal like lightning and hummed up her arm.
And before she knew it, she’d mounted the beast’s left leg and started to climb, her hands gripping onto the dark fur that ran down it. She swung the blade out with her right hand and plunged it hilt deep into the creature’s chest. The beast howled as it reared up on its hind legs. Claire dropped to the ground and backed away as the creature bucked wildly. She dropped to her knees, clamped her hands together in front of her in a fist and slammed them onto the floor.
A shockwave exploded out around her and vibrated up the walls. A crack appeared in the earth above the creature followed by a low rumbling noise. The floor started to tremble. The crack in the ceiling stretched out like a web until it no longer could support the weight of the earth above and it came crashing down. The beast gave one last guttural scream before rocks swallowed it up.
Claire collapsed back onto the dusty floor, the warmth and strength quickly draining from her. Her mind screamed, but her body wouldn’t move. The ceiling was barely visible now as darkness seeped in around the edges of her vision. Shouts rang out in the distance as rocks started to crash down around her. Fire spread through her body again; her breath caught in her throat and her body jerked with the sudden rush of pain.
She wasn’t really sure what had just happened. Did she really just beat that creature? It was like her body had been possessed.
The sounds of the room grew distant until the only thing she heard was her pulse hammering wildly. Her eyes grew heavy and her vision blurred even further before she was swallowed up by the darkness. On the bright side, she had a new prospect for her death: being buried alive. Or slightly alive.
27
Claire stood over the sink in her small kitchen. Warm light splashed across her body as she washed some plates in soapy water. She hummed the familiar tune Mother had taught her when she was a child. Tranquility settled in, something she hadn’t felt for weeks. No, not weeks. Just a night, a very un-restful night at that.
Just as she thought, it was all just a dream. No centaurs, no elves, no giant cats trying to eat her. The existence of any was questionable at best. Stockton was the same as she had left it the day before. The tavern still needed to be cleaned, chores needed to be done, supper to be cooked. Just another day in her exciting life.
She laid the dishes on a towel on the counter to dry. Mother would be back any minute to start the preparations for the night. She turned to survey the kitchen she had just cleaned and gave a satisfied sigh. Yup, exciting. But at least it was peaceful. Some would give up everything for a peaceful life. Someone had told that to her once, but she couldn’t quite remember who.
The light in the kitchen faded rapidly, too rapidly. She spun back to the window and craned her neck to look up at the sky. The moon shined bright and round in a star filled sky. That was odd.
Claire’s pulse began to quicken. Something was off.
The door to the alley burst open suddenly and a gust of cool air swept through the kitchen. Goosebumps crawled over her skin as a centaur entered, brandishing a spear in his right hand. The front side of his body dripped with something dark and wet. He spotted her and she froze, her hands gripping the counter behind her. She couldn’t move. Her mind begged her to, but her feet were too heavy. The beast’s deep laugh filled the room before he r
aised his weapon high in front of him and charged.
Claire’s eyes snapped open as she gasped violently. Cold air rushed down her throat like it was the first breath she’d ever taken. She was lying on her back, lumps from the hard ground digging into her, but at least her head was on something soft. Warm light flickered off a rocky ledge hanging high above her. She was alive, but where?
Fiery pain swarmed through her body in a sudden rush. A soft cry escaped her, her throat raw and dry, and she held her breath as she waited for it to subside a bit. It was a relief to know that she wasn’t dead, but at the moment, death didn’t seem all too bad.
She blinked a couple times, her eyes still a little blurry. She wasn’t in the cave room anymore. The air around her was cool and she could hear the faint crackle of a fire nearby. Had somebody really saved her? She froze for a moment. Could it have been Bren? Surely after her little display he would have found some use for her, or decided to share her new found talents with his king, the prince, or whoever he truly worked for.
She closed her eyes tight and forced herself to take deep breaths. In any event, she was in no shape to do anything about her situation. She was at the mercy of her savior. All she could hope for is that they were a kind one.
“How are you feeling, Claire?”
She knew that voice. Her eyes snapped open again.
Farron leaned over her with a worried look on his face. Relief filled her. So, the elf had come for her.
“Fantastic,” she squeezed out. It hurt to talk, she discovered.
“Well, that’s good.” He sighed. “But you probably should have stayed asleep a little bit longer.” He turned away from her and started to fiddle around with something.
“I would if I could,” she said through clenched teeth. Her hopes for a kind savior were dashed already.
He turned back to her, kneeling on one knee by her side. A thin blade glinted in his hand. Claire’s eyes grew wide. What was that for? He hadn’t turned against her too, had he?
“I’m sorry, Claire, but it has to come out.” He slid the blade under her shirt and began to cut the cloth.
Her hands moved for the first time as she grabbed for his. “Wait. What are--” She tried to stop him, but her body lacked the strength. The wound on her right hand had been bandaged already, wrapped tightly in a dark cloth.
The blade cut easily through the cloth of her shirt and he started to rip it to expose her skin to the cool night air. His hand accidentally nudged the spine and it sent a sharp pain throughout her body that curled her toes and arched her back. She gasped as tears started to gather in her eyes. She’d forgotten about that.
He turned briefly before he returned with a damp cloth and started to wipe the blood and dirt away from the wound. Each time the cool dampness touched her skin, another wave of agony shot through her. Sweat broke out across her body and she wished the night had been just a little bit colder.
“Fare, stop,” she whimpered. She didn’t know how much more she could handle.
“It has to come out.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She gave him the best smile she could muster with tears crawling down her cheeks. “I’m fine, really.” She wasn’t, but she knew she couldn’t handle something like that right now. Couldn’t he wait until she was unconscious again?
“It’s poisonous. I have no choice, Claire.” His face hardened into the emotionless mask she was so fond of. He set the cloth aside, positioned himself closer to her and laid a hand above the wound on her ribcage to hold her in place gently but firmly. He gripped the spine and she cried out. The previous pain was nothing compared to this one. Her back arched, but he pressed her back down to the ground, leaning his weight onto his hand to keep her from struggling.
“Wait!” She grabbed at his hands again. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she tried to plead with him. “Just wait. Please.”
Farron paused, his hand still on the spine. He looked down at her and the mask slowly crumbled away. His shoulders slumped a bit as he took his hand off, fear and worry clear and raw on his face. It wasn’t a good sign when the elf lost his composure.
He sat back onto the ground, crossed his legs and pulled her into his lap. She made a slight whimpering noise as the spine shifted in her side. Her head rested on his shoulder as his arm slipped across hers.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
“I know.” His hand slowly made its way back to the spine.
She grabbed his arm and started to push it away, but his strength easily overpowered hers in her current state. “Please don’t,” she begged softly. “Don’t.”
“It’ll be alright, Claire.” He rested his cheek just above her ear and began to whisper the same chant he’d used to calm her during their encounter with the centaurs.
The soft rolling words slithered in her ears and into her mind. She tried to focus on his voice, the solid warmth of his body. She felt his arm tense and the hand on her shoulder gripped tight as he jerked the spine from her side. She cried out and a moment later, he pressed a cloth against the wound.
He raised his head to look at the wound as his chant trailed off. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
She thought of a dozen remarks she could have said at that moment. Her hands fell limply to her sides and she closed her eyes. His arm tightened around her shoulders as he cradled her closer to his body.
“Fare,” her voice was barely even a whisper, “if…if I don’t make it…”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine.”
She could hear the tiny thread of uncertainty in his voice. The cloth on her wound had soaked through and she doubted it was with water. The elf whispered a word under his breath before he pressed another cloth to her stomach. The word sounded pretty in his language, but she knew it wasn’t a good one.
“…please find…” She could feel her consciousness start to wane as the cold hands of darkness reached for her. “…tell her…I’m sorry…”
“No.”
“...please.”
“Stop it.” His voice faltered a little. “You’ll find her yourself. And you still have to beat me up, remember?”
The new cloth was soaked now. It felt like it was soaking up her life, taking the warmth from her body. The dark hands gripped onto her consciousness and started to pull. “…I’m so tired…”
He whispered another pretty word as he pressed another cloth to her skin. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
She could barely hear his voice as she finally gave in to the hands and let them pull her down into the darkness. For some reason she felt like he was apologizing for more than pulling the spine out. His words seemed heavy and full of regret. But for what?
A bright light burned through her closed eyelids and she could feel her body swaying. An arm gripped around her back, one her legs. Slowly, she opened her eyes a crack to adjust to the light. Her head leaned against Farron’s shoulder as he carried her; his black hair was surprisingly silky underneath her cheek. A dark cloak was wrapped tightly around her.
Wait, his black hair? She raised her hand slowly and picked up a clump of his hair. Her eyes glanced up to make sure it was still the same elf.
“What happened to…” She trailed off, her eyelids started to feel heavy again as an overwhelming fatigue swept over her. Her hand dropped back to her stomach and she winced as it hit the wound on her side.
“Claire, look.” His hand tightened on her shoulder.
It took her eyes a moment to focus, to comprehend what she saw. A deep rift in the earth reached as far as the eye could see below them, all the way to the horizon. The walls of the earth dropped steeply on either side, rough and rocky, as if the ground had been split in half. Thick ropes wrapped around a wooden railing and led upwards to a web of chains and cables that supported the bridge underneath.
Her mouth fell open as she took in the sight. Faint voices and footsteps reached her ears. In the distance, a horse whinnied, followed by the sound of hooves on wood plank. The bridge
was crowded; she could feel it, the energy of the people.
“We’re crossing the Rift of Illanor.” He kept his voice low. “He was the great General that led the humans to victory. The rift was created in the last great battle, right before the magic disappeared. It stretches far to the north, and south, all the way to the sea.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder. Excitement couldn’t even stave off the fatigue.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered.
“And why is that, my lady?”
“To show me things…I can’t fully appreciate…”
“I can bring you back once you recover, if that is what you wish.”
She slipped back into a deep sleep before she could answer.
28
Claire awoke from another nightmare, her body soaked from sweat, her eyes wide, heart still beating frantically in her chest.
The dim room around her was foreign, and she found herself in a soft bed, buried in covers. The burning pain in her body was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a dull ache. It took more effort than she remembered to move her body. It may have all just been a dream, although her body told a different story. How long had she been out? And where was she?
It wasn’t all too strange to wake up in a foreign room again, though. It seemed like it was becoming a regular occurrence lately. She slowly sat up and looked around the small room. An oil lamp glowed dimly on a bedside table. Dark green walls led up to a wood paneled ceiling, strips of long ash arranged and bent into an intricate swirling pattern. White curtains covered the opposite wall, presumably covering a window. The door at the foot of the bed was closed.
