The Awakening (28 page)

‘I see,’ the Diplomat said. ‘But Leone…?’

‘Leone is the senior soldier here now that Muttiah has deserted, so I am granting her a field promotion.’

‘But—’ Cherise started.

‘But nothing, old man!’ Shanek shouted. He surged to his feet. ‘You dare to question my decision?’

‘No, First Son. Of course not. My apologies,’ he muttered.

‘Now, go away, Diplomat, I need to consult with the Caldorman.’ Shanek waved a dismissal at Cherise and sat down again. The Diplomat bowed and shuffled away. The First Son beckoned to Leone. She had been watching the exchange and was ready for the summons.

‘Caldorman Leone,’ Shanek said. ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘So do I, First Son. Thank you.’

Shanek looked away. ‘You deserve it. Certainly a lot more than that ancient dodderer did.’

‘And what shall I do with his body, First Son?’ whispered Leone.

Shanek whipped his head around. ‘What?’ he demanded.

‘His body, First Son. Did you really intend for him to lie without Rest?’

‘Yes,’ he snapped.

‘Very well, First Son.’

‘How did you know?’ Shanek asked.

‘I didn’t, First Son, but when I saw you and the Caldorman leave together, I guessed.’

Shanek laughed. ‘Burn me, you’re good, Caldorman Leone.’ Leone bowed her head in acceptance of the compliment, pleased that the discipline of the Fyrd had held. No one believed the First Son’s story for a moment, but equally no one would dare challenge him. No with her around, they wouldn’t.

The map that the Diplomat was following indicated that they were finally coming to the border of the forest. After so long under the dark canopy, they were all looking forward to seeing the sun again, but as they moved towards the edge of the forest Shanek grew increasingly tense and distracted. His horse had developed a slight limp and rather than swap horses and risk his stallion to someone else’s care, he decided to walk him. The dense undergrowth and narrowness of the trail had limited them to a walking pace anyway, so his decision did not slow their progress. Beneath his bare feet, the leaf litter was soft and oddly comforting. The border of the forest was visible when Shanek realised with a start what was making him nervous. They were being hunted! The third arox! He’d forgotten it in the events of the previous night!

‘Leone!’ he called.

‘First Son?’ she asked.

‘Have we anyone on patrol over there?’ He gestured to the right.

‘Yes, First Son. Harin.’

‘Send someone out to check on him. Preferably someone good with a lance or polearm of some sort.’

Leone saluted and turned to give the necessary orders. Gayathri urged her horse off the trail and plunged into the bushes.

Leone watched her go, then turned back to Shanek.

‘First Son,’ she started. ‘Was there a reason for your orders?’

Shanek stared at Leone, then remembered that as Caldorman she had the right to request the reason for orders, after she had obeyed them of course.

‘The third arox. I think it’s tracking us,’ he said.

Leone’s eyes widened as she realised that she too had forgotten about it. ‘And the polearm, First Son?’

‘It will keep it at bay long enough to call for help,’ Shanek said. ‘I think it’s already taken Harin.’

He caught Leone’s look of puzzlement before she looked away. He wasn’t surprised;
he
was puzzled by his intense feelings of
knowing
things that he should not know. It started with the time he had sensed her move in the Training Arena and had continued ever since. It was as if he could
feel
Harin’s blood seeping into the ground, the powerful arox claws gouging the soft earth and the fear of Harin’s horse as she trotted away from her rider’s dead body. This time, instead of dismissing the feelings, he decided to concentrate on them. He closed his eyes and focused on the arox.

Angry, hungry. The beast was a powerful creature, full of rage and base instincts. He was dominated by the overwhelming need to
kill, to tear, to eat. He was hunting the whole party, picking them off one at a time.

Scent! Another comes! Low, get low. Hide. A call!

It was a harsh, shrill and incomprehensible cry, but the arox sensed the emotion in it.

When did I call out?
wondered Shanek.

The arox hid, watching as a human on a horse trotted past. She paused, also hearing the call. Another rider came into view. The arox beast’s anger rose as it sensed another kill being taken away. The new rider stopped beside the first and spoke to her animatedly. The beast could not understand her words through the arox’s ears, but when she looked directly into the beast’s eyes and drew her sword, he felt the threat.

With a squeal of rage, he leaped out of the bushes and hurled himself onto the rider and horse.

Leone looked out into the forest, watching Gayathri ride away. She was the best with the bardiche. The weapon’s length, together with the vicious, curved axe blade, might give her an advantage should she encounter an arox. Leone was troubled. Shanek was beginning to scare her. These odd flashes of insight he’d been having were disturbing, not only for their existence, but for their uncanny accuracy. The way he had dived across the stream. How had he known
that Tapash had fired an arrow? Unless the Tribesman was so far away that his shot was in the air that long, in which case he was the best archer to ever live, or Shanek had known he was about to fire. How could he know before the arrow was released? What about the aroxii last night? He knew how many, where they were and what they were doing. How was that possible?

‘Gayathri!’ Shanek screamed. ‘Look out!’

Something inside Leone responded without thought. She was urging her horse through the undergrowth before she realised what she was doing. Gayathri was moving carefully and she was startled when her Caldorman galloped up behind her.

‘Be careful!’ shouted Leone. ‘There!’ She gestured at what the soldier had taken as an old log half-hidden under a bush. The arox squealed as it surged up and leaped at Leone.

Both women were trained and experienced warriors, and despite being surprised by the sudden attack they were able to react with the split-second responses of experts. Gayathri swung her bardiche with a smooth round-arm action. It sliced across the arox’s side, opening up a deep gash, slicing through to the ribs. As solid as the blow was, it was not sufficient to slow the huge beast’s momentum. It crashed heavily into Leone’s horse, opening its throat with a savage swipe. The horse collapsed under the sudden weight and went down squealing. It broke a foreleg as the arox landed, the sickening crack echoing through the forest. Leone was thrown off, her sword spinning out of her hand. She lay winded as the arox turned towards her.

The arox’s squeal faded to a deep throaty purr. With its own blood streaming down its matted fur and pooling at its feet, the arox slowly moved towards Leone. Gayathri yelled and swung her bardiche downwards with every ounce of strength she possessed, but it smashed onto the beast’s spine and bounced off, sending a brutal jarring along its length. The arox whipped its head around and squealed at her, then resumed its approach on Leone.

She gasped as she urgently tried to get air back into her lungs, but as she went to stand her ankle gave way. It was broken from the fall. She collapsed back onto the ground. The arox was so close she could smell its breath, the rotten, foul stench of the carnivore. Its fanged mouth slavered, dripping blood from an earlier kill. For the first time Leone knew terror. Frantically she scrabbled at the leaves, trying to pull herself along the ground. She edged away, but the arox reached out and sank its claws into her leg.

Leone screamed as she was dragged back towards the arox. With the strength of desperation, she kicked and thrashed, raining blows from her uninjured leg onto its head, but she may as well have been kicking a tree for all the effect this had. When the beast had dragged her close enough, it retracted its claws and stepped forward. All of its weight rested on her broken ankle. She felt she would pass out from the agony as it stepped on her other leg and started to move towards her head. Seeing her death in the eyes that drew closer, she launched a frenzied attack, pounding at its massive head with both of her fists. Almost casually, it turned slightly and took her arm in its mouth. White-hot agony shot through
Leone as the powerful jaws slowly closed, the fangs tearing through muscle and bone. In horror, she lay helpless as the arox eased itself down on top of her and bit off her arm.

She struggled to breathe as the huge mass crushed her. Her head rang with lack of air. The last thing she remembered seeing before she consigned her life to the Rest was her arm disappearing down the beast’s throat.

Shanek fell to his knees, retching as the taste of Leone’s blood stung his throat.

‘First Son!’ called Malik. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Get everyone out there, right now!’ he gestured to where Leone lay. ‘The arox. Go!’

The shock of what he had just experienced left him exhausted and dazed. He lay on his back feeling Leone’s agony simultaneously with the arox’s relish at eating her flesh, as well as its annoyance at being pounded by Gayathri. The bizarre combination of images and sensations threatened his grasp on sanity. He groaned and writhed in pain as he lay, feeling Leone’s lifeblood pour out onto the soft earth.

Unconsciousness was a welcome guest, bringing a gentle release.

Shanek came to under a clear, bright sky. The sun shone down benignly and nearby a river meandered past, bubbling over rocks. For a moment he lay comfortably, revelling in the feeling of sunshine on his face. The sound of voices intruded on his pleasure.

‘Will she live?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Are there any of her Fyrd still alive?’

‘Just me and Hofie and Gayathri.’

‘So it’s just the two, then. You’re the Coerl of our Fyrd.’

‘I keep forgetting that.’

Shanek stirred. ‘Where’s Leone?’ he asked.

Malik leaped to his feet. ‘First Son,’ he said. ‘Leone is over there.’

Shanek lurched unsteadily to his feet. Leone was lying on a makeshift litter. She was grey. Her right arm was heavily bandaged, but that could not disguise the fact that half her upper arm was gone. Blood seeped through the wrappings, mostly torn blankets, that covered most of her body. Her breathing was shallow and sweat beaded her face. As Shanek approached, a member of Malik’s Fyrd stood.

‘First Son,’ she said. ‘I am Myandra. I have some training in medical care.’

‘How is she?’ he asked.

‘She will die soon, First Son,’ Myandra said. ‘Caldorman Leone has lost too much blood and the shock of losing her arm will kill her.’

Shanek nodded. ‘Keep her warm. We wait here until she is gone.’

Myandra saluted.

Rather than sit and watch her die, Shanek walked away to regard the surroundings. The campsite was beside a river that ran slowly along the base of a range of hills that stretched away to the east and the west. To the east they turned south, seeming to merge with the forest, and to the west they gradually reduced, leading into a plain. The forest ended about
fifty paces away from the river. To the north lay the Great Fastness, its grasses waving and rippling in the wind. The hills that rose from the other side of the river were covered in low bushes. They looked lush and inviting.

Hunt!

No, we must not, not yet.

There is more to do.

Thoughts that were not his own rang in his mind. Shanek’s recent experience with the arox beast gave him pause to think. This was a voice, not an instinct. Someone intelligent was out there.

He looked back to where Leone lay dying. His emotions were in more turmoil than he was used to. He knew that he could not simply sit and watch her die, and this gave him a perfect excuse to leave.

He thought about taking an escort but decided against it. There were too few of his Fyrd left alive, and he did not trust the members of Muttiah’s old command. Briefly he toyed with the thought of letting Cherise know what he was planning to do, but he could not see any point. The old Diplomat was not his keeper, and the First Son did not answer to him. He waited until Cherise was deep in conversation with Malik, and slipped away.

The river was shallow. His feet tingled with the icy chill as he made his way across. As soon as he stepped onto the opposite bank, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He stopped and breathed in the clean, crisp air with relish. Without looking back, he started walking up the hill.

It was late afternoon by the time he reached the summit. The sun had already dropped behind the hill, leaving the forest in darkness, but Shanek stood atop the hill and watched the sun dip beneath the horizon. To the north, the Great Fastness shone gold in the last rays of the day. Beyond the grassland, he could just make out the first of the volcanoes that dotted the Arc Mountains. From the reddish glow that was visible against the darkening sky, it was clear that some were becoming active again. He wondered why.

A movement on the slope below caught his eye. He strained to make out what it was. As he looked, he froze. Skrin Tia’k. A knot of about ten was making its way up towards him. From the way they were moving, it did not look as if they were a war knot, although Asan knowledge of wild Skrinnies was limited, so it was possible they were unaware of the camp.

Shanek looked back towards the campsite. They had a fire burning, making it impossible to miss. He regarded the Skrinnie knot. They were moving fast. Out here, alone, armed only with a bolas, he could not hope to survive in a fight. Could he make it down to the camp before the Skrinnies? Not a chance, he realised. The arthropoid creatures could move with astonishing speed, even through undergrowth. He could never outrun them now, and if he tried they would cut him down before he came within earshot of the camp.