29th of Nema

That first, faint light of dawn was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I sat there in the stillness, my arms around my knees, and watched as the sky lightened from ink to grey to rose, and then, at last, to orange and gold as the bright edge of the sun came peeking over the hills across the river.

I took a long, deep breath, savoring the scent of woodsmoke and dew-soaked grass. We were still alive.

Ever so slowly, the sun reached out its molten fingers to touch our little hill, tracing the leaves above us before finally sneaking down through the branches to caress the hut. I swallowed, unable to look away as Arramy felt the light on his face, stirred, and opened his eyes, ice-blue bright against the dark shadow-smudges beneath them.

I knew better than to think he had actually been sleeping.

With a grunt, he sat forward and grabbed one of the spear-staves he had made during the night. Then he ground his teeth and got up, his movements stiff. He stood very still for a moment, jaw knotted, then turned and held out his hand.

We had survived, and now it was time to go. Grim, I placed my fingers in his and let him pull me to my feet. My aching, fiery feet that were attached to my aching, fiery legs, which were attached to the aching fire in my spine. I was a rusty hinge bent in half for far too long, then pried apart without warning. Everything hurt.

Arramy handed me the other spear-stave, and I took it with a nod of thanks. I didn't have any idea how to use it as anything but a walking stick, but the heft of it in my palm was reassuring. We kicked dirt over the fire pit, snuffing what was left of the blaze we had spent all night tending, then we headed for the river. And that awful, ominous silence came sliding right along behind us.

~~~

Arramy swayed, and I staggered, his weight nearly sending me to my knees. With an involuntary sob, I caught our sideways momentum with my staff and kept my legs straight, pain shooting up my shins and down my back as I strained to keep us both from toppling over.

"You need to rest," I rasped once I had us stable again.

"Can't," Arramy grunted.

I glared up at him. He was pushing himself too hard, and his body was paying the toll, his movements clumsy and slow, his eyes glassy with fever, perspiration beading on his skin. He wouldn't stop moving, though, not even for a minute. I wanted to scream at him, make him listen to me and just sit down, but he was right. It would only take longer to reach the plantation if we stopped, and he was running out of time. I swallowed, my brain helpfully supplying the observation that if he kept going like this, he might collapse and die before we got there.

Whatever was in my father's papers, no matter how important it was, it didn't hold a candle to the thought of that man lying cold and alone beneath the trees, those fierce eyes staring up at nothing. While something ate him.

We were still being followed. No. We were being hunted. Even I could sense it now: the entire forest was looking on with bated breath, waiting. The silence beneath the trees had grown heavy with it, and that urge to run was sliding cold through my chest, sending my heart skittering.

My vision swam and I swiped angrily at my eyes. Then I cleared my throat and adjusted Arramy's arm around my shoulders, leaning tighter against him. "Well... just so we're clear, if you fall, I'm not going to bother picking you up this time," I ground out between clenched teeth, my tone harsher than intended. Then I braced myself with my spear-staff and started forward again, trying not to stumble over the hill of mossy rocks we were climbing.

Arramy had insisted it would be faster to go straight over the steep boulder-strewn ridge that apparently lay between us and the plantation. I figured it was about as dumb a way to die as any, bouncing off stones and tree-trunks till we hit the bottom of the gulley we had come from, but it was either that, or watch The Great Blockhead try it on his own. So, muttering curses upon all stubborn, over-opinionated and obnoxious mountain men, I kept going.

We had nearly reached the top of the ridge when movement caught the corner of my eye.

It wasn't much, little more than a shadowy presence off to my left and below us, but I froze, an instant jolt of mindless fear racing through me.

"Arramy..."

His voice was a deep, husky growl. "Don't look at it."

"It's —"

"Move."

He was the one dragging me forward, then, his fingers digging into my hips as he lifted me and shoved me up onto the last big rock in our way, somehow summoning the strength to drag himself up and onto it too. Another quick shadow to our right had me grabbing at his arm, hauling him all the way to his feet.

"Keep moving!" Arramy hissed, pulling me in beside him.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip to muffle a whimper as Arramy turned us to the left, his limp intensifying as he increased our pace, following the top of the ridge.

The paved top of the ridge. Stunned, I realized we were on a road. A beautiful, civilized, manmade river of a road that wound along the spine of the hill, the flagstone flatness of it starkly out of place in the thick of the woods.

Whatever hope I might have felt immediately disappeared as a shadow went sliding through my peripheral vision again, gone before I could get a better look.

Arramy just tightened his grip on my shoulder and kept going.

A long, black, sinuous shape darted across the road ahead of us and Arramy swore beneath his breath.

"What was that?" I gasped, hobbling faster. "Some sort of... big... cat..." My words trailed off as another dark creature appeared, this one maybe three meters long from its nose to the tip of its tail, slipping between the trees off to our right. It kept up with us easily, its movements fluid, like an eel swimming along the floor of a pond. An eel with soft, downy fur that swayed and drifted around it as if caught on a breeze, blurring its outline. The effect was unsettling. There was no breeze.

Beside me, Arramy came to a sudden stop, his muscles tensing.

I turned to see what he was looking at, and my breath left my lungs in a rush.

One of the dark things was standing in the road, maybe ten meters ahead. It was looking at us, its narrow obsidian eyes glittering in a pointy, feral face. It lifted its head, scenting the air, its lips pulling back in a grotesque smile of wickedly sharp teeth. Then a half-meter tall crest of that downy fur rose along the length of its spine, revealing a startling bone-white stripe from its nape to the end of its narrow tail.

Without a word, Arramy edged in front of me, keeping me behind him with his left arm as he rotated in place, holding his spear-staff across his body with his right hand.

I turned and pressed my back to his, wielding my own spear in shaking fists, my heart thundering in my ribs.

Several more creatures were closing in on us, three from behind, two on the sides, all of them gliding silently out of the trees and over the rocks like some sort of freakish living liquid, those bold white-striped crests flashing. They weren't hiding anymore.

This was what death looked like, circling us on padded feet that made no sound on the pavement, fangs bared, shrewd animal eyes searching for weakness. There was no mercy in those narrow faces, only hunger and cunning. To them we were prey, and they knew we were weak.

Arramy's hoarse, "C'mon, ya brougha! What ya waiting for!" broke through the tension like a physical blow.

The things bared their teeth and laughed at us – low, stuttering growls that sent nausea curling through my stomach.

Abruptly, one of them broke the line and made a swift strike at Arramy's left side. Arramy swung the butt end of his spear down, but the thing had already dodged away, letting loose a blood-curdling, high-pitched cackle, as if it had tested him and found what it was looking for.

Another feint came from the right, and I jabbed with the point of my spear as the thing rushed by, but it was just a distraction. There was a low hiss, and then one of the things hit Arramy full on from my open side, sending him flying.

I scrambled after them, spear raised, but the two of them were moving too much, locked together like two wrestlers in an arena, Arramy holding the thing off with both hands on its neck as it snapped and clawed at him. I couldn't hit the thing without possibly hitting Arramy instead.

Somehow, though, Arramy wasn't dead yet, and his frantic, "Behind you!" had me whipping around to find one of the things coming up on me, those glittering eyes locked on my throat. I didn't think. I started screaming and lashed out with my spear, swinging wildly and missing. The thing grimaced at me and backstepped a few paces, but kept circling just like the others, all of them growing bolder, chattering louder.

Then, suddenly, the big one managed to roll Arramy onto his back, lock its jaws on Arramy's vest and get a foothold on his chest. Immediately it began yanking and tugging, shaking Arramy back and forth like a dog with a rag. It looked like it was ripping out his throat, and I screeched and raised my spear, but a heartbeat later Arramy let out a roar, wrapped both arms around the thing, hooked a leg around its middle, and flipped them both over. Then he proceeded to punch the thing over and over and over.

With a gurgling snarl the thing let go of him, and Arramy kicked hard, lunging away from it and scrambling back onto his feet. He came up holding his fallen spear, just in time to face the thing's new attack head-on. Arramy whipped his spear around and down in a vicious arc, and the fire-hardened point connected with the thing's skull.

For a moment there was only the sound of hooked claws scrabbling over stone as the thing writhed, its eel-like body convulsing before it shuddered and collapsed, its head a mess of blood and bone. The next instant, the other things scattered, yelping and coughing out that awful high laughter as they fled into the trees.

Breathing hard and bleeding from several gashes across his chest and arms where the thing had raked him, Arramy stepped back so we were side by side. He glanced up the road in the direction we had been going. "The west gates of the plantation should be about a mile that way," he said, low and urgent. "I want you to promise you won't stop til you get there. Not for anything."

My thoughts fractured. I looked up at him, eyes wide. "What?"

He was absolutely calm. "They're hungry and angry. They won't stay away long. You have to run, kid. And don't you dare look back."

Time slowed. I shook my head, not wanting to hear what he was saying.

Arramy took a step away from me, a hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Run, Brenorra. Finish this." He held my gaze for a heartbeat longer. Then he turned and started limping away from me, passing the dead thing on the road.

I was still shaking my head. I wanted to shout at him, tell him he had to come with me, that I couldn't make it without him, but no sound would come out of my throat. My feet might as well have grown roots, unable to move while Arramy kept going, the distance between us growing wider and wider.

He began shouting when he was about twenty meters away, his voice hoarse as he taunted the things in the trees, "Come on! You want more? I'm right here! Come on!"

My heart stopped as a low, black shadow came slithering out from behind a tree to his left. It raised its crest, and then the others answered, white stripes flashing against the green of a mossy boulder, the dark trunk of an oak, the low branches of a laurel. There were more of them.

Run, Brenorra...

I dragged in a breath and let it out, firming my chin. I didn't think about the binder once. There would be men with weapons and horses guarding that west gate. I was going to go get those men, and their weapons, and their horses, and I was going to come back.

I whirled around and forced my aching, shaky muscles to start moving. And I left him. I left Arramy behind.

~~~

Run, Brenorra...

The air seared my throat as I dragged it into my lungs. Liquid fire raced up my calves with every tortured step. My heart thundered heavy in my ears.

Run, Brenorra... Run, Brenorra...

The road wound on and on, unspooling endlessly. My limbs had turned to rubber, and there was no way to know how much farther I had left to go. It was taking too long. That thought raced in circles through my mind, but I kept going anyway, shoving myself back up when I stumbled, forcing my burning legs to carry me forward.

Then I came around a bend flanked by wooded hills and nearly fell to my knees with a sob.

The forest ended ahead of me, turning to a wide-open field. In the middle of the field, the road ran under a gatehouse, twin watchtowers on either side, with a portcullis and a gate and everything, set in a high stone wall that stretched off in either direction.

A female voice shouted, "Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Inbound is friendly! It's Miss Westerby!" And then the portcullis went rolling upward in a grind of gears, and several of NaVarre's mounted guard came riding out to meet me.

I tried to stop, to steady myself, but I could only walk in a haphazard circle, my hands on my sides, my leg muscles twitching and leaping as if I were still running. When the lead guard got close enough, I just turned around and started back the way I had come, hoping they would follow.

"Miss," one of the guards called, "we have orders to escort you to the manor as soon as possible. You need to come with us."

I kept going, shaking my head. Speech was impossible. My ribs were heaving so hard it felt like I was breathing fire.

A horse snorted. Hooves came to a halt behind me. There was a creak of saddle leather and the scrape of chain mail, and then footsteps were coming after me. Something – the guard's hand – caught my arm and brought me up short. "Miss, you need to come with us. Right now."

I pulled away from him, panting, "No... I have to go back..."

The guard's jaw clenched, and he narrowed his eyes beneath dark brows. "Listen. I'm sorry, but Braeton's orders were –"

"Captain Arramy is out there." I inhaled hard before I could continue with, "We were attacked by big black things."

The guard's gaze flicked in the direction of the forest. "Black things... Did they have white stripes?"

"Yes —"

"They're called khulu." He shook his head. "They don't come this far south."

I wanted to smack the man. "I don't care what they're called, and apparently they do come this far south," I snapped. Then, when the guard just stood there, staring at me, I snarled at him, reached out, and gave him a shove toward his horse. "Move! Now! He needs help!"

The guard blinked, but then, to my relief, he turned and began giving orders between asking questions: where was the Captain? How many animals were there? Was he injured?

I was given a horse – since I was going back with or without one – and in only a matter of moments we were on our way, but even waiting for one of the guards to go fetch more incendiaries made my stomach churn. Every possibility under the sun was parading through my mind. Arramy lying dead at the bottom of the gulley; Arramy gone without a trace, dragged off to a den in the hills; Arramy dying alone and in pain...

I urged my mount into a full-out run, heading toward those infinite possibilities while clinging madly to only one of them: Arramy whole and alive, coming after me.

We found him an hour later, his body wedged under a fallen tree several hundred meters from the road, the ground around him ripped up and shredded by the claws that had tried to dig him out.

...........................................................