The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (25 page)

The great horned panther pounced from one animal to the next, even swiping the brahma to the ground, jumping from meal to meal, coveting every moving thing as a meal for later. The snapping of bones, ground shaking with great leaps and bounds, and growls of an immense predator happened so quickly as it staked its claim on the herd of beasts in its territory.

Saberrak lowered his horns, seeing the beast turn its side to him, spotting the easy flank and ribs of the cat. He raised his greataxe and drew the bone blade from his side as he charged. The gray minotaur was sure this cat would not let any of them live if things kept this way, and he had no intention of being a meal.

“Saberrak! What in the hell are you doing?!” James started to jog after the minotaur, his head aching from the days wine. Raising his shield, the old knight followed.

The elf moved quickly into the woods off the trail again, moving to the rear of the ferocious feline, her steps making barely an issue of sound. Azenairk put the steel shield high over his head, marching forward, unsure of what to do besides crush the cat’s leg and paw with his hammer. Yet nonetheless he moved in on the predator as well. “Vundren bless these insane travelers, bless their blades and their souls, protect them from harm father!” prayer always proceeded battle in Boraduum and the last Thalanaxe kept tradition intact, even far from his home.

The gray gladiator huffed, growled out his breath, stewing his anger and energy in his chest. He lunged head first at the side of the panther, just as the beast turned to see him, the white horse still kicking in its jaws. With all his weight, shoulders and neck locked tight, Saberrak hit into the ribs of behind the white and black fur, knocking the feline monstrosity back a foot or more and getting its complete attention. An ear piercing hiss issued from the bloody mouth of the beast, backed up on all fours, hair raised on its lower back, it turned to face the thing that had just hurt it. Not wasting a moment, horns red with streaked blood, the twin bladed axe swung at the cats face clipping hair as it snapped its head up and away. Then the bone blade hurled from Saberrak’s hand, lodging into the face of his enemy just below the eye. The great horned panther let a foul hiss and high pitched growl, a growl of warning. The minotaur stepped in, paying no mind to the noises or threats, and swung at the beasts’ throat. Before the axe could land its mighty edge into his foe, a paw struck out and toppled the horned warrior from the side sending him tumbling into the snow bank ten feet away.

The bestial feline hunched back to pounce on the downed menace of a minotaur just as two blades dove deep into its lower back and hips. Shinayne pulled her swords free, ducking in anticipation of a rear kick from the cat which she guessed correctly. The howling roar was followed by the rear legs swiftly and reflexively scraping the ground where the elf had been a moment earlier. The beast looked, green eyes the size wagon wheels, right at the stealthy elf and then its front paws felt the pain of a sword plunging through the left, and a warhammer crushing bone on the right. The great panther reared up on its back legs, snapping its head forward, seeing two little men with shields raised. It dove down in anger and hissing fury at the taller one on its right, James Andellis.

Crouching behind his shield, James suddenly saw a pair of giant canine tusks on either side of him, just as tall as him, and felt the grip of something on his shield as the moonlight vanished and he was lifted by his shield into darkness. James did not reason to hang on to the shield, just reflexively his muscles tightened, as he was lifted by the fanged cats mouth, his feet dangling ten feet above the ground. Staring at the back of his shield, noting the scratches he had put there over the years, one for each ogre he had killed, James swung his body, tensing his muscles, and swung up to the side of the panther’s nose, driving his broadsword deep into the soft black flesh on the end of its face. The face wrinkled and hissed in pain, whipping its head side to side, and James hung onto the hilt of his blade and the shield for his life. A clawed paw swatted him off, cutting his leg and arm as the knight flew over the dwarf and skidded across the ground, his shoulder numb from the impact, his shield arm likely broken. The cat reared again, growling and roaring as pain shot again into its left paw, the crack of bones heard loud this time as the priest of Vundren swung into the middle of the top of the paw with the large steel hammer. Limping, favoring that leg now, the great horned predator beat at the dwarf with its good paw, raking claws across the dwarfs shield, and sending him back almost five feet. Azenairk stayed his ground and did not tumble or fall, his stocky girth and forward weight on his shield.

Another cut from the elf, this time across the hind leg of the wounded cat. Dancing around its scrambling hind paws, Shinayne plunged her shortblade into the hip muscle, and cut downward like it were cloth, spilling blood to the snow covered ground. Now having its full attention and no other enemy within reach, the enormous feline turned on the elf. Lowering its head to the ground and backing her against a small maple tree, the beast turned its mouth sideways to take its meal in one quick bite, then recoiled quickly as an axe head hurled from many feet away, lodged into the side of the cats neck with a thud and slicing sound upon impact. The minotaur staggered forward toward the hissing beast, now curling in pain and losing pots of blood from the wound. Shaking violently, the cat freed the axe from its flesh, growled the high pitch feline warning, subdued and backing away from the minotaur. It turned, sinking its canines into a spasming horse, and leapt off south, limping and growling into the darkness of the moonlit night.

Saberrak picked up his axe, in one fluid motion with his steps and kept after the giant feline hunter.

“Thank you Saberrak. Have you ever seen anyth…hey, where are you going?” Shinayne was heading toward the dwarf and James who still had not gotten up from his fall. “The other knight ran with the horses, there is no way we can catch him on foot in the middle of the night.”

“I am not going after the rider.” His focus on his axe, and the bloody trail into the woods, the minotaur would not chance the beast returning in the night for another attempt for a meal. Saberrak followed the great horned panther, alone, to finish the fight. He knew not to let an injured enemy survive.

“You can’t go alone, that is insane! James is hurt, get back here!” the elf was talking to no one that would listen and her horned friend walked into the darkness, alone. “Very well, go get yourself killed then.
Men
.” Shinayne went to see her human friend, and see what the dwarf was talking about over him.

“Lay still brave human, let me see your arm there.” Azenairk looked at the posture of this man, saw the arm raised up a bit too high, muscles tense. “Ahh, your arm is broken there, son. I will have to set it before I heal ye up, and it will hurt. A lot.”

“Are you a priest, dwarf?” James was squinting, trying to loosen the straps on his shield with his good arm, not wanting to move.

“Ay. I am Azenairk Thalanaxe. Man of Vundren, the creator of the mountains, God of devotion and strength. I can heal this, but if we don’t set it right first, well, you will never be thankin’ me since ye will have little movement there. So bite down there,
James
, is it?”

“James Andellis, formerly of Southwind Keep, formerly a knight thereof.” James pulled off his leather gauntlet, and bit down seeing this dwarf setting his shield and hammer to the side and getting into position to set his broken arm.

“Formerly? Well James, ye fought like any knight I have ever heard of, formerly or no. Now hold there, and don’t move.”

Snap
, the bone fit back into where the dwarf was sure it was meant to go, looking straight and normal, he held it together trying not to look at the face of this man as he was in severe pain. Azenairk had set quite a few breaks over his decades in the temple, forge incidents, mining collapses, mountain falls, but never from the assault of a giant panther.
“Obrildin avgen ledbrorem Vundren, velk verden brelm Vundren, Femraal Vundren, hamannt Vundren.
” his dwarven dialect and temple prayer perfect as his hands held the trembling arm and the moaning human. The last Thalanaxe, feeling his prayers were heard, repeated three more times the passages of healing and removing pain of the flesh derived from battle. Azenairk felt the trembling cease a minute later, deep in trance, merely uttering the prayer under his breath and beard with his eyes closed. He then began the prayers of thanks and gratitude to Vundren.

Shinayne watched as the pious dwarf opened his eyes and James moved his arm freely. She had always been amazed by divine worshippers of Siril, the power of faith and belief, yet trusted her blades much more than any prayer.

“Vundren told me to watch you closely, James Andellis. His power through me would not have come if ye had been a coward or unworthy to bless. However, you need to watch yourself with the wine. It can ruin a man if he not be careful.” Azenairk smiled, standing up and helping the veteran knight to his feet as well with an outstretched hand.

“Vundren told you
all that
?” James was pessimistic about those that claimed to hear God in their prayers or have conversations with their deity and it showed in his words.

“No, the wine I figured by your smell and the redness of your eyes. The rest, well, I just know to be true.”

“Huh. Where is Saberrak?” the aging warrior picked up his shield and his broadsword from a few feet away, cleaning the blood of the great horned panther off in the snow. James looked around, surveying the carnage of dead horses, a deceased knight of Southwind, and a torn up, still twitching brahma. His arm felt no pain and he nodded to the dwarven priest.

“He went after the cat by himself.” Shinayne replied, picking up the bone shortblade from the blood splattered snowy trail. “He forgot this. We should go after him.”

“And where is our other traitorous escort?” James asked, looking at the dead rider still partially in the saddle of a mutilated horse. He looked through his pack, looking for perhaps, an order or writ or something that would explain why these men would abandon them in the night taking their steeds. He found nothing, but his hand did pick up something hard and heavy, smooth and cold inside the leather pack. The brave veteran soldier pulled out the smooth stone scroll belonging to the minotaur, weighing close to ten pounds for certain, he put it in the dwarfs pack. “Hold onto this, it must be more valuable than we were told. Let’s go save our foolish horned friend, shall we?”

The three walked, following the easy trail of blood and cat prints big enough for them all to stand in. Saberrak’s booted tracks following as well, Shinayne took the lead, weapons drawn and ready for the panther to spring out any moment. The walk took half an hour and then they all heard it. The roaring, the hissing, and the sounds of trees snapping in the winter forest were undeniable. Following the sprinting elven woman, all three ran to save their friend before it was too late.

The shadow was evident in the open moonlight at the edge of the trees, the minotaur walked slowly out of the lowland near a stream. They saw the shadow of his axe in one hand, and the other arm seemed unusually long, as if injured, dragging on the ground. Besides heavy breathing and footsteps, he made not a sound. They stopped, waiting for the cat to lunge out of the forest any moment, watching the silent shadowed minotaur walk closer, coming toward them. A thud in the ground in front of them sent their reflexes into motion, shields and weapons went to the ready. They looked down, seeing a spiraled horn longer than a man lying before them without the attached feline owner. Saberrak kept walking, silently, in need of rest and water, his body aching slightly from a few blows and the exertion of tearing one of the horns from the dead panther. “It’s dead.”

The elf, the veteran warrior, and the priest all looked in amazement at the horned gladiator who kept walking back to camp, his enemy’s life taken. Shinayne peered into the pass by the stream, seeing the panther, bloody and unmoving, laid out with massive cuts in its chest and neck. She was sure, regardless of the horn, that it was dead.

“So that is Saberrak then? Huh. Glad he is on your side I suppose?” the dwarven priest turned, following the horned warrior back to camp, thinking about what he just saw his first four days outside his city of Boraduum. Only in stories and histories had he heard of giant panthers, minotaurs, elven nobles, or knights of Southwind. Only in the tales of merchant families and traders from the other dwarven kingdoms in other mountains far away did these things truly live. He reached into his pack, removing the heavy scroll, jogging up in his armor to hand it to the minotaur. Saberrak paid him a glance, still walking off his intensity, clearing his focus on the panther, not really interested in anything the dwarf he did not know, or anyone else, had to say at this moment. Azenairk recognized that the minotaur was needing silence and respected it, keeping in stride, but not bothering the gray warrior. The priest knew that quiet meditation was healthy for the soul, and tried to concentrate on his father. Wherever he may be, whatever this strange journey was, he hoped he was safe with Vundren. Saberrak took the scroll from his hand and nodded to the stout priest beside him.

“Those two are sure quiet, aren’t they Shinayne?”

“Yes, best leave them be. How far walk to Vallakazz?”

“Maybe the end of a hard two days march.” James was rolling his arm around and around, loosening the muscles and feeling no pain from the injury that the priest had healed.

“Let’s take enough food from the horses and get ready then. I feel that Azenairk knows something, let’s talk to him in the morning.”