Page 28 of In Darkness Forged
Tal broke into a run, drawing his weapons as he did so, ears keenly attuned to every shift of the breeze, every creature that went on its way beneath the forest canopy. Where in all of that was the spark of life that represented the endlessly irritating human? He’d heard no screams, so the renders had not found her… yet.
But the sounds of claws scraping on bark were growing nearer, leaping from tree to tree ahead of him. It was a race with no prize at the end—only the heat and blood of battle—and Tal bared his teeth in anticipation.
The night ahead suddenly erupted with snarls, and he realized grimly that it might be too late. If the human were alive, she would no doubt be splitting his ears with screams.
Sure enough, three renders were crouched over a limp form on the forest floor, with more descending from the trees even as he erupted into their midst like a steel-tipped whirlwind.
The pack turned as one when they recognized the threat and seemed to agree that their meal could wait. All nine launched themselves in his direction, and Tal felt only grim satisfaction as the first predator died on his blade. Perhaps he couldn’t save the human, but he could certainly rid the world of a few renders.
It had been months since he wielded a sword, but after a lifetime of practice, the rhythm was as natural as breathing. The dance and thrust of sharpened steel through heart and sinew… it was like a lungful of air after nearly drowning. Once he’d felt ashamed of the way battle called to his soul, but his grandmother had only wrapped his hand more firmly around the hilt of his sword and cupped his cheek with her other hand.
“Never be ashamed of your abilities,” she’d said, holding his gaze with fierce conviction. “Only of choosing to use them in service to the wrong master.”
With two renders dead, the remaining seven formed a circle around him, red eyes glowing with focused hatred, preparing to attack as a single unit.
As if stretching muscles long unused, Tal pushed a tiny corner of his awareness into the silver chased along the edge of his blades, imbuing it with a small fraction of the magic that was his grandmother’s legacy. The silver began to glow with an icy white light, brightening the shadows and drawing snarls from the renders around him.
“Try me,” he whispered. “I beg you. Let me be your death.”
Like a whispered yes, they hissed as they attacked in a flurry of pale limbs and flashing claws.
They were no match for elf-made steel, or for the wild tide of magic that surged up as they clashed against Tal’s blade.
From behind him, Cuan burst out of the trees and buried his teeth in a render’s neck. It snarled and died before the wolf moved on to the next, and in a matter of moments, they were surrounded by pale, unmoving bodies splashed with blood.
Cuan shook himself, coughed once as if protesting the taste, then moved to the human’s body to nudge it with his nose.
“Leave it,” Tal said wearily. “We were too late.”
But Cuan only whined and nudged the human again.
Was it possible? With another, brighter burst of magic, Tal cleaned his sword of render blood and returned it to its sheath. His dagger he wiped on his already filthy trousers before cleansing it in the same way, then crossed the short distance to where the dreadwolf waited, watching him expectantly.
Kneeling beside the human’s body, Tal laid one hand on her neck and turned her head gently to each side, looking for wounds. He found none, and there was no blood on her clothing.
If they had come in time, why had she not screamed or defended herself? If she had merely fainted, she should have roused by now. But somehow, beneath his fingers… her heart still beat. Her chest rose and fell. And while her eyes remained closed, marked by dark circles of exhaustion, her lashes seemed to flutter occasionally in response to his touch on her skin.
She was not dead, and Tal could not decide whether he was more relieved or disappointed. Especially not when he realized he could not simply leave her here again—not when she was clearly unable to look after herself. She’d brought no pack, no supplies, no weapons. And by the look of things, she’d reached the limits of her endurance.
Muttering incoherently at her stupidity—and his own—Tal made the mistake of looking at Cuan, who merely grinned happily as if to say, “You saved its life. Now you are responsible for it!”
Fine. Tal would wait until she regained consciousness, provide her with food and water, and then send her back to the settlement. But he’d be hanged before he missed bathing just because this ridiculous human lacked the sense to stay home where she belonged.
“Bring her,” he said to Cuan, feeling reluctant to touch her any more than necessary. The last thing he needed was her waking up and becoming convinced that he’d changed his mind.
* * *
Day was fast approaching by the time they returned to his chosen campsite, so Tal spared only a few moments to make the human comfortable. He lay her near the trunk of an ancient ravenleaf with a root for a pillow, while Cuan curled up nearby as if to keep watch.
Then he tore off his filthy shirt, laid his boots to the side, and made his way to the edge of the deep forest pool that was just beginning to steam gently as the first glimmers of dawn touched its surface.
On one end, a tiny waterfall cascaded over a ledge of rock to pour cheerfully into the pool. The rock face was decorated with boneleaf ferns, shimmering golden lichen, and deep purple moss with tiny starlike flowers that were only now folding in on themselves ahead of the brilliant morning light.
After the harsh chill of the prison and the bloody thrill of battle, the beauty of the scene jarred Tal’s senses with an almost surreal sense of peace. It was tempting to let down his guard completely, but as he lowered himself into the cold waters of the pool, he could not help remaining alert for anything that might pose a threat. The pool itself held nothing but a few startled trout, but the forest…
Nothing large moved within a wide radius, so Tal decided to trust Cuan’s nose to warn them of danger. He filled his lungs with air and submerged himself completely beneath the surface, letting his hair float free as the icy purity of the water penetrated his bones and chased away the taint of his captivity.
He was free, and he would never again submit to such chains. Instead, he would achieve the impossible—acquire the arantha venom and return to claim his prize. Paendreth would be forced to accept his challenge, and when he did… The young lord would learn what it meant to be afraid, and then he would die. Just as Lani had.