The Blight of Muirwood
Page 108
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“Quickly, Colvin,” Lia murmured. She strung the bow, noticing that her hands were shaking. She readied another full quiver of arrows against her leg and brought one out and rested it on the string, holding it firm with her finger. They left the barren cave made of tree roots and started down the mountainside. It was much faster going than the previous day. Mist shrouded the mountaintop, not as thick as in Muirwood, but thick enough to hide the immediate surroundings from them, giving the beast a good amount of cover.
“I pray it is not a grey-rank,” Colvin said, his hand still on his hilt. They walked swiftly, watching the ground for broken rocks that would trip them, but glancing backwards into the mist.
“What is that?” Lia asked, for she had not heard of them.
“They are beasts that live in the high country. They are big, like bears, with gray fur and claws. They walk like men. I have heard the rumors but very few ever see them. I did not remember the myth until I heard the roar.”
As Lia listened to Colvin’s words, her ears picked out the sound of crunching steps, heavy and spread wide apart coming down the mountain behind them. She swung to a halt, spinning around with her bow and pulled the shaft back to her ear. Colvin’s blade rang as it cleared the scabbard.
The following footsteps silenced.
A spasm of fear shot through her, primal – like the Myriad Ones, except she did not sense their typical mewling around her body. The feeling was in the fog.
“What is it?” Colvin whispered.
“I heard something following us.” She waited, gazing into the mist. Studying the trees for any sign of a shape. It worried her even more that the sound had stopped. Beasts reacted by instinct. A bear intent on attacking charged straight ahead. A beast could not reason.
Something moved in her vision on the right. There was no sound. She spun and aimed, but she only saw the shadow of a giant redwood.
“Let us go. And listen,” she warned, turning around and heading down the mountainside. Colvin followed, but he kept his sword in his hand. As they walked, the sound of crunching steps began to follow again.
“It feels like the Medium,” Colvin whispered. It was cold but his face was wet with dewdrops. “Does not it?”
“Yes, like a Leering,” Lia admitted. “But it is behind us and following. A Leering cannot move. As we get further, the feeling should be fading.”
“A warning then,” Colvin said. “Check the orb.”
She was afraid it would not work. She was terrified. “I better not,” she whispered. “I cannot control my feelings. I think we should run.”
“Run?”
The feeling of dread was so intense it made her sick. She grabbed his hand and together they ran down the mountain. Each bony step jarred at her legs and knees, but she did not care. They ran hand-in-hand as they had off the Tor. No horsemen in black this time, something huge and menacing. She could hear it now, the crunch and crack of it as it rushed down the mountain after them. The mist grew thicker.
“Stop!” Colvin warned, squeezing her hand and pulling her. They had almost ran into a tree. Her chest was burning with the run, but the fear had not diminished. It was getting worse. Even after they stopped, the sound of crashing and stamping continued. There was a growl and a huff in the fog behind them. The size of it sent shudders through her.
Colvin spun around, sticking his sword tip into the dirt at his feet. He raised his arm in the maston sign. It brought back all of her memories of the Abbey – the feelings of safety, the chaen that she wore. She set down her bow and mimicked the sign.
“We are mastons, Lia,” he said hoarsely. “We hold dominion over this world and any creature from it. Do you believe that?”
“Yes,” she said, almost sobbing with fear.
Colvin jutted out his jaw. The sound of the pursuit slowed. A snuffling noise came through the mist. As Lia watched, a hulking shadow could be seen in the fog.
“We are mastons,” Colvin told her bracingly. “We will leave the mountains in peace. It will sense that, Lia. It will sense our intentions. Hold your hand steady. Show no fear.”
She clenched her teeth, wanting nothing more than to pick up her bow and send a shaft into it. But what damage would her arrows do to something so big? Even Colvin’s sword seemed like a pitiful weapon.
Lia struggled to subdue her panic. The creature hesitated just beyond the pale of vision. A low growl came from its mouth. A snuffling noise that disturbed the air like a wheezing hiss. The mist concealed it, showing only a shadow of its bulk. A smell of rottenness and decay flowed into her nose and mouth. She gagged.
“I pray it is not a grey-rank,” Colvin said, his hand still on his hilt. They walked swiftly, watching the ground for broken rocks that would trip them, but glancing backwards into the mist.
“What is that?” Lia asked, for she had not heard of them.
“They are beasts that live in the high country. They are big, like bears, with gray fur and claws. They walk like men. I have heard the rumors but very few ever see them. I did not remember the myth until I heard the roar.”
As Lia listened to Colvin’s words, her ears picked out the sound of crunching steps, heavy and spread wide apart coming down the mountain behind them. She swung to a halt, spinning around with her bow and pulled the shaft back to her ear. Colvin’s blade rang as it cleared the scabbard.
The following footsteps silenced.
A spasm of fear shot through her, primal – like the Myriad Ones, except she did not sense their typical mewling around her body. The feeling was in the fog.
“What is it?” Colvin whispered.
“I heard something following us.” She waited, gazing into the mist. Studying the trees for any sign of a shape. It worried her even more that the sound had stopped. Beasts reacted by instinct. A bear intent on attacking charged straight ahead. A beast could not reason.
Something moved in her vision on the right. There was no sound. She spun and aimed, but she only saw the shadow of a giant redwood.
“Let us go. And listen,” she warned, turning around and heading down the mountainside. Colvin followed, but he kept his sword in his hand. As they walked, the sound of crunching steps began to follow again.
“It feels like the Medium,” Colvin whispered. It was cold but his face was wet with dewdrops. “Does not it?”
“Yes, like a Leering,” Lia admitted. “But it is behind us and following. A Leering cannot move. As we get further, the feeling should be fading.”
“A warning then,” Colvin said. “Check the orb.”
She was afraid it would not work. She was terrified. “I better not,” she whispered. “I cannot control my feelings. I think we should run.”
“Run?”
The feeling of dread was so intense it made her sick. She grabbed his hand and together they ran down the mountain. Each bony step jarred at her legs and knees, but she did not care. They ran hand-in-hand as they had off the Tor. No horsemen in black this time, something huge and menacing. She could hear it now, the crunch and crack of it as it rushed down the mountain after them. The mist grew thicker.
“Stop!” Colvin warned, squeezing her hand and pulling her. They had almost ran into a tree. Her chest was burning with the run, but the fear had not diminished. It was getting worse. Even after they stopped, the sound of crashing and stamping continued. There was a growl and a huff in the fog behind them. The size of it sent shudders through her.
Colvin spun around, sticking his sword tip into the dirt at his feet. He raised his arm in the maston sign. It brought back all of her memories of the Abbey – the feelings of safety, the chaen that she wore. She set down her bow and mimicked the sign.
“We are mastons, Lia,” he said hoarsely. “We hold dominion over this world and any creature from it. Do you believe that?”
“Yes,” she said, almost sobbing with fear.
Colvin jutted out his jaw. The sound of the pursuit slowed. A snuffling noise came through the mist. As Lia watched, a hulking shadow could be seen in the fog.
“We are mastons,” Colvin told her bracingly. “We will leave the mountains in peace. It will sense that, Lia. It will sense our intentions. Hold your hand steady. Show no fear.”
She clenched her teeth, wanting nothing more than to pick up her bow and send a shaft into it. But what damage would her arrows do to something so big? Even Colvin’s sword seemed like a pitiful weapon.
Lia struggled to subdue her panic. The creature hesitated just beyond the pale of vision. A low growl came from its mouth. A snuffling noise that disturbed the air like a wheezing hiss. The mist concealed it, showing only a shadow of its bulk. A smell of rottenness and decay flowed into her nose and mouth. She gagged.
