Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) (42 page)

He had to. That thing needed to die. Something that would do the things that creature had done . . . He had to kill it. Then as soon as Fist was better, they would leave so that the farmers would no longer be in danger. He didn’t know where they would go next, but now was not the time to worry about that. Now was the time to hunt.

The creatures couldn’t hide their tracks this time. Gwyrtha had a clear trail of blood to follow. They didn’t have far to go either.

A short way into the woods, they came to the top of a rise. Below them was a small clearing and Justan could see the two creatures doing battle. The fight wasn’t going well for the injured one. She had several small glowing wounds from the magic sword.

It looked as though the creature with the sword intended to slay her. Even through the darkness Justan could see that she was horrifically damaged. There was a gaping wound where his arrow had hit her in the side. Yet she must have had a remarkable healing ability because she was no longer bleeding and somehow still managed to dodge the other creature’s attacks. It was clear to Justan that the male creature was not trained with the sword.

Justan watched as she ducked a swipe of the blade. The moment the strike passed by, she twisted and sent out her tail with the wicked spike on the end. In an amazing show of dexterity, the male twirled around, knocking her tail aside with his own, and thrust out with the sword.

This time his strike was true. The shimmering blade pierced her belly just below the place where Justan’s arrow had struck. Flames erupted from the wound, some even spouting from within the hole Justan’s arrow had left.

She screeched and collapsed to the ground, chirping and hissing at the male in a pleading manner. The male creature took a step back and cocked his head before replying with a regretful sounding chirp of his own. He drew back his sword for a finishing strike.

Justan willed Gwyrtha forward. Once the female creature was dead, he couldn’t let the male get away. He drew his swords.

The sky!
Gwyrtha sent in warning.

Justan looked up just in time to see an enormous winged shadow descend from the night sky. It struck the ground in front of the female creature and as it touched the earth a wave of heat emanated from it with such force that it knocked Justan off of Gwyrtha’s back. A nearby tree and the forest floor around the beast burst into flames. The male creature was thrown back several yards.

The female creature squealed as the beast scooped her up in one clawed hand and took off back into the sky. Once it cleared the trees, the beast banked and soared to the east. Justan watched its departure in stunned silence as the female creature’s terrified screeches faded into the night.

He rose to his feet and checked to make sure Gwyrtha was okay. Despite some singed patches of hair, she was uninjured. He looked back into the clearing and in the light of the burning tree, saw the solitary remaining creature rise and look to the sky in the direction she had been taken. It let out a horrible keening sound.

A sudden lance of pain shot through Justan’s skull. He fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. A scream nearly pierced his lips and an intense feeling of emptiness flooded his mind. It was over. She was dead. What was his purpose now? What was left? He was alone.

The thoughts were cut off as Gwyrtha struck the male creature, throwing it to the ground. She stood over it. Her claws dug in, cracking its ribs under her weight. The creature made no move to defend itself. Why bother? It, no,
he
was ready for death. Gwyrtha’s maw full of teeth descended on his head, eager to oblige.

“
Gwyrtha stop!
” Justan cried out and forced his body to stand despite the pounding in his head.
Do not kill him.

Why?

Just . . . don’t.
It was hard to think straight.

With reluctance, Gwyrtha backed off of the creature. It stayed on the ground for a moment, blinking its eyes in confusion. Then it sat up and regarded the two of them warily.

“You are not alone.” Justan stumbled towards the creature and reached out. He absently noted that his hand was shaking. “I am Justan.”

It cocked its head, sizing him up like a large puzzle. No human had ever approached it so. It did not take his hand but stood and took a few steps back. Why was there no fear in the human archer’s eyes?

“Please,” Justan said and extended his arm once again. With difficulty, he formed a picture of what he wanted it to do and sent it through the bond. He took another step forward.
Take my hand.

Its clawed fingers reached tentatively towards his, but stopped a few inches short. A hiss escaped its lips and it turned to run.

“Wait!” he shouted.

The creature only made it a few steps away, before stiffening and falling to the ground. It was then that Justan registered the sounds around him as multiple men on horses entered the clearing. The headache had been so intense, he hadn’t heard them coming.

Master Coal leapt from Samson’s back and strode over to Justan. As he approached, the creature on the ground screeched and struggled against the threads of air that bound it. The loneliness leeching through the bond turned to fear. Something about Master Coal terrified it.

“Master, please let it go.” Justan’s words were slurred. For some reason the pain wasn’t going away this time. It had been over quickly in the past. Why wasn’t it going away?

“But it is . . . Edge are you alright?” Coal looked. He stepped forward and opened Justan’s eyes wider with thumbs and forefingers. “Did you take a blow to the head?”

“No, or I don’t think so. My head hurts though.”

“We need to find out the reason for the attack,” the wizard said. “Why do you want me to let it go? What if it comes back with others?”

“He didn’t have anything to do with the attack,” Justan explained, his head still pounding. “He was only here to hunt the other creature down.”

“But . . .?” Master Coal’s eyes widened in understanding. He turned back to look at the struggling creature and Justan knew that the wizard had switched to spirit sight.

“How do you know?” Samson asked.

“His name is Deathclaw,” Justan said, his head still pounding. “We’ve just bonded.”

Justan awoke in his room at the lodge. At least he thought it was his room. The bed felt strange. The oddness of the sensation wiped the vestiges of sleep from his mind. Actually, it wasn’t that the bed felt strange, it was more like there was too much of it. He sat up and tried to figure out how there could be too much bed.

He looked around and saw that he was indeed in his room at the lodge. He must have slept through the morning hours. His eyes ached as he noted the bright sunlight streaming through the one small window. The bed wasn’t any different than it had always been. Instead, his perceptions of the bed had changed. He could feel every detail of the fabrics against his skin.

That wasn’t all. The rest of his senses were intensified as well. He could smell the food cooking in the kitchens below: baked Honstule and eggs with some of Becca’s famous bread. He could hear the excited chatter of women in the kitchen. All the intense sensations flooded his mind and that feeling of disorientation came back again.

Justan knew that these changes had something to do with the intense headache that had come on after bonding with Deathclaw. Something about that headache had worried Master Coal so much that he had put him to sleep. Justan shook his head. At least the headache was gone now.

He closed his eyes and checked on Fist. He felt a rush of relief. The ogre was alive and somewhere nearby. He was asleep, probably in his own room downstairs. Gwyrtha was also asleep, somewhere in the vicinity of the stables.

His new bond with Deathclaw had a different feel than the others. He couldn’t get an immediate grasp of Deathclaw’s location. Had Master Coal been right the night before? Had his new bonded fled far away?

Justan switched to spirit sight and reached deep inside himself until he found the place where their bond began. It was somehow swollen and raw, almost like a newly healed wound. He felt around the edges of the bond and immediately felt a rush of agony pour through from the other side. Deathclaw was in pain; awful, searing pain.

Justan didn’t hesitate. He pushed his thoughts through their connection until his mind was flooded with the creature’s thoughts.

Deathclaw was in the woods somewhere not far south of the farms. He had burrowed deep into the leaves under a large bushy tree in an attempt to evade any humans that followed. He lay there without movement to betray his location, but his head was afire. It was like his brains were boiling in his skull.

The pain had started the moment Talon had been carried away and it had gotten worse the further he had fled from the humans. It had to be the wizard. That wizard had done something to him. He was sure of it. First it used a spell to bind him that he couldn’t break and then it had planted this pain inside his mind. He should have killed the wizard the moment it released him from its spell. He had thought about it, but something had stopped him. Why?

Justan took Deathclaw’s thoughts in. His immediate instinct was to dart in and ease the pain of his new bonded, but he did not quite know how to approach him. Such confusion churned within its-, no,
his
mind. The raptoid, or at least that was how he thought of himself, was quite intelligent, but he was still a creature. Would he take offense if Justan entered his mind without permission? Could he create a rift between them that could be impossible to heal?

He had to explain to Deathclaw what the bond was and what their connection meant. Only then could he ask permission and ease the raptoid’s pain. But how should he go about introducing himself?

Um . . . Hello?

Deathclaw hissed. It took all his concentration not to move and risk giving away his position in the leaves. He had heard no approach. He couldn’t smell any humans. Surely one couldn’t have snuck up on him without a trace of his presence. Was the burning in his head that great of a distraction?

My name is Justan.

Deathclaw still made no movements. He had heard this voice before, in the night, after Talon had been taken. Where was this human?

It is okay. I am a friend.

Friend?
He did not know the meaning of this human word.

A friend is someone who cares for you.
Justan sent.
We are bonded.

How did it know his question? Deathclaw made the sudden realization that the voice was not coming from the forest above, but from inside his own head. The voice rang out from somewhere beyond the source of the boiling pain deep within his mind.

I am not causing the pain.
Justan assured, hoping he wasn’t wrong.
But I can help it stop.
Again, he hoped that he wasn’t wrong. He began to pull up thoughts and images to explain to Deathclaw what the bond meant and how he could help.

Get out of me!

Justan was not prepared for the mental onslaught of the raptoid’s fury. It tore at him with frightening intensity. He fled back through the bond and nearly fell out of the bed, gasping and sweating.

Justan heard a shuffling sound in the hallway outside his room and a slight squeak as the doorknob slowly turned. He pulled up the blankets and turned to see the door open. Master Coal peeked his head in. The intensity of the aroma that came through the doorway started Justan’s mouth watering. When the wizard saw that he was up, a slight smile touched his face.

“Ah, it is good to see that you are awake. May I come in?”

“Of course, Master Coal.” Justan wondered why the wizard seemed so hesitant.

Coal walked in and shut the door behind him. He carried a steaming plate filled with the foods Justan had smelled cooking below.

“I was sent to see if you would be able to eat something.”

Justan snatched the plate from his hands. “Yes, thank you!”

“Uh, yes, well Becca was quite insistent. So . . . how do you feel this morning? Any lingering effects from last night?”

“Well . . .” Justan paused around a bite of food. “Actually, I do feel pretty odd this morning. This food is amazing!” The flavors of the food were alive in his mouth. They were intensified, not too strong, but complex. He tasted things in the food, he had never noticed before. He could pick out the individual spices Becca had used.