The wolf positioned himself before the creature. He glanced at Karigan with his defiant eyes, then leaped up and caught a feeler in his mouth. It broke with a crack. Oily black blood spilled from the severed appendage, and the wolf dropped the broken piece, his mouth foaming. Pain enraged the creature, and it snapped up the distracted wolf in a claw.
“No!”
Karigan moved between the claws, and holding the saber two-handed, chopped into the joint of the pincer that clutched the wolf. The claw and wolf crashed to the earth.
The creature whistled and hissed. Now Karigan dared to approach closer, hacking when legs or the other claw came too close. The eagle continued to harry it from above, constantly at its eyes, even more so now that there was one less claw to worry about.
Karigan dismembered the second claw and ducked beneath the body. Without ceremony, she thrust the saber into the leathery undershell and disemboweled the creature. Foul smelling blood and black ropy innards poured from the wound. The ground sizzled beneath the guts. She jerked the saber free and backed into the open night air. The creature shuddered, tripped over its own legs, and collapsed onto the ground. Karigan waved away the stench that rose up about it.
Her wrists began to burn. “My skin!” Black blood seared her wrists.
The eagle flew over to her. Water. You need water to bathe in. I saw a stream this way.
Karigan dropped her sword uncaring. Tears of pain filled her eyes. She limped through the woods behind the airborne eagle, stumbling from exhaustion. Branches snagged at her greatcoat and slapped her face. The dense canopy of the woods blotted out moonlight, and she fell twice. Groaning with the pain, she climbed back to her feet.
Quickly, the eagle said. It’s not far.
“My water skin would have been closer.”
It would not have been enough. And he flew ahead over the trees.
After another fall, Karigan remembered her moonstone. When she removed it from her pocket, it lit the woods around her like brilliant daylight. Her pains diminished as she held it, and travel through the woods became easier.
The promised stream appeared, a glimmering ribbon in the light of the moonstone. She set the stone on a fallen tree trunk and dropped to her knees in the soft mud of the stream. She plunged her wrists, sleeves and all, into the cold, soothing water. Her whole body felt hot, as if she had bathed in the creature’s burning blood. She splashed her face with stream water.
I hope for your sake we were not too late.
Karigan looked at the eagle. His feathers showed a veritable rainbow of colors in the light of the moonstone. “What do you mean?”
The blood—its poisonous effects.
It was like listening to someone else’s conversation from far away. She cupped water in her hands to slake her sudden thirst.
Creatures such as we fought tonight haven’t been seen since the Long War. The eagle preened a little, then watched her impassively as she dunked her whole head into the water.
Her thirst quenched, at least for the moment, she stood up, wobbling with dizziness.
What are you doing? the eagle asked.
“The Horse . . . he needs me. And the wolf.”
Karigan limped back through the woods, stumbling and falling despite the assistance of the moonstone. It seemed to take years to reach the clearing where the carnage of the battle lay. The creature’s carapace had darkened in its pall of death. She felt numb all over. Only the eagle’s loud protests prevented her from stepping in a puddle of black blood.
The Horse watched her approach. He lay on his side with his legs tucked up against his belly, and though his neck was grotesquely swollen where he had been stung, his eyes were bright. The wolf, on the other hand, did not move. Karigan cried in rage and pulled at the claw that still clenched him, rocking it back and forth. His eyes were empty of defiance and life.
“I won’t have this!”
She dropped the claw and found her saber on the ground. The blade was still black with the creature’s blood. She carried it over to the creature. The Horse whinnied in alarm, but she ignored him. She swung her sword again and again at the creature, but it bounced off its shell.
The eagle flew at her face, pushing her away. Foolish human. It’s dead.
“Leave me alone!” She swung the sword erratically, nearly catching the eagle in midair, but gentle hands took it from her. She wasn’t sure if she could see the hands or not, but they were cool to the touch. They led her from the clearing and helped her lay down.
She closed her eyes and fell into dreams of thousands of silvery creatures stinging her, making her drink black blood, of fire and burning. When she opened her eyes again, F’ryan Coblebay stood next to the eagle, flickering like a candle in a breeze. She could not hear their words as they conversed, only whispers that may have been the branches of trees rattling together like dry bones. They glanced down at her, talking about her, she was sure, as if she wasn’t there.
“Talk to me . . .” She had meant to yell, but her lips and mouth were so dry the words were no more than a raspy breath.
She saw the wolf. Like F’ryan Coblebay, there was a luminous quality about him, an otherworldliness. He looked right into her face, his amber eyes challenging her once again. Challenging her to what? She could not maintain that gaze, and she closed her eyes. She fell into a dark slumber with tiny silver-shelled creatures feeding on her mind.
SOMIAL OF THE ELT WOOD
The nature of her dreams changed abruptly. She heard fair voices in song and talk around her. The voices weren’t intrusive, but soothing, though she could not understand the words. She awakened once, and a myriad of stars brightened the sky like beacons, and silhouetted the tops of evergreens. She lay in a great round clearing softened by deer moss that looked like clumps of snow in the starlight. Stars flickered among the trees . . . no, not stars, but moonstones . . . dozens of them. She was not alone.