Rise of the Valiant (8 page)

Dierdre looked
at her.

“I’m famished,”
Dierdre said.

Kyra, too, felt
the hunger pangs.

“Whoever it is,
on a night like this,” Kyra replied, “I have a feeling they won’t be keen to
share.”

“We have plenty
of gold,” Dierdre said. “Perhaps they will sell us some.”

But Kyra shook
her head, having a sinking feeling, while Leo whined and licked his lips,
clearly famished, too.

“I don’t think
it’s wise,” Kyra said, despite the pains in her stomach. “We should stick to
our path.”

“And if we find
no food?” Dierdre persisted. “We could all die of hunger out here. Our horses,
too. It could be days, and this might be our only chance. Besides, we have
little to fear. You have your weapons, I have mine, and we have Leo and Andor.
If you need to, you could put three arrows in someone before he blinked—and we
could be far off by then.”

But Kyra
hesitated, unconvinced.

“Besides, I
doubt a hunter with a spit of meat will cause us all any harm,” Dierdre added.

Kyra, sensing
everyone else’s hunger, their desire to pursue it, could resist no longer.

“I don’t like
it,” she said. “Let us go slowly and see who it is. If we sense trouble, you
must agree to leave before we get close.”

Dierdre nodded.

“I promise you,”
she replied.

They all headed
off, riding at a fast walk through the woods. As the smell grew stronger, Kyra
saw a dim glow up ahead, and as they rode for it, her heart beat faster as she
wondered who it could be out here.

They slowed as
they approached, riding more cautiously, weaving between the trees. The glow
grew brighter, the noise louder, the commotion greater, as Kyra sensed they
were on the periphery of a large group of people.

Dierdre, less
cautious, letting her hunger get the best of her, rode faster, moving up ahead
and gaining a bit of distance.

“Dierdre!” Kyra
hissed, urging her back.

But Dierdre kept
moving, seemingly overcome by her hunger.

Kyra hurried to
keep up with her, and as she did, the glow became brighter as Dierdre stopped
at the edge of a clearing. As Kyra stopped beside her, looked past her into a
clearing in the wood, she was shocked by what she saw.

There, in the
clearing, were dozens of pigs roasting on spits, huge bonfires lighting up the
night. The smell was captivating. Also in the clearing were dozens of men, and
as Kyra squinted, her heart dropped to see they were Pandesian soldiers. She
was shocked to see them here, sitting around fires, laughing, jesting with each
other, holding sacks of wine, hands full of chunks of meat.

On the far side
of the clearing, Kyra’s heart dropped to see a cluster of iron carriages with
bars. Dozens of gaunt faces stared out hungrily, the faces of boys and men, all
desperate, all captives. Kyra realized at once what this was.

“The Flames,”
she hissed to Dierdre. “They are bringing them to The Flames.”

Dierdre, still a
good fifteen feet ahead, did not turn back, her eyes fixed on the roasting
pigs.

“Dierdre!” Kyra
hissed, feeling a sense of alarm. “We must leave this place at once!”

Dierdre, though,
still did not listen, and Kyra, throwing caution to the wind, rushed forward to
grab her.

No sooner had
she reached her when suddenly, Kyra sensed motion out of the corner of her
eyes. At the same moment Leo and Andor snarled—but it was too late. From out of
the wood there suddenly emerged a group of Pandesian soldiers, casting a huge
net before them.

Kyra turned and
instinctively reached back to draw her staff, but there was no time. Before she
could even register what was happening, Kyra felt the net falling down on her,
binding her arms, and she realized, with a sinking heart, that they were all
now slaves to Pandesia.

Alec flailed as
he fell backwards, feeling the cold rush of air, his stomach dropping as he
plummeted toward the ground and the pack of Wilvox below. He felt his life
flash before his eyes. He had escaped the venomous bite of the creature above
him only to fall to what would surely be an instant death below. Beside him,
Marco flailed, too, the two of them falling together. It was little solace.
Alec did not want to see his friend die, either.

Alec felt
himself crashing into something, a dull pain on his back, and he expected to
feel fangs sink into his flesh. But he was surprised to realize it was the
muscular body of a Wilvox writhing beneath him. He had fallen so quickly that
the Wilvox had had no time to react and he had landed flat on its back, it
cushioning his fall as he knocked it to the ground.

There came a
thump beside him, and Alec looked over to see Marco land atop one another
Wilvox, flattening it, too, at least long enough to keep its snapping jaws
away. That left only two other Wilvox to contend with. One of them leapt into
action, lowering its jaws for Alec’s exposed stomach.

Alec, still on
his back, a Wilvox beneath him, allowed his instincts to take over, and as the
beast leapt on top of him, he leaned back, raised his boots and put them up
protectively over his head. The beast landed on top of them and as it did, Alec
shoved with his feet and sent it flying backwards.

It landed
several feet away in the snow, buying Alec precious time—and a second chance.

At the same
time, Alec felt the beast beneath him wiggle out. It prepared to lunge and as
it did, Alec reacted. He spun around quickly, wrapping one arm tightly around
its throat in a chokehold, holding it close enough so that it could not bite,
and squeezing as hard as he could. The creature struggled like mad in his grip,
trying desperately to snap at him, and it took all of Alec’s might to contain
it. Somehow, he did. He squeezed tighter and tighter. The beast jerked away,
turning and rolling in the snow, and Alec held on and rolled with it.

Out of the
corner of his eye Alec spotted another beast charging for his now-exposed back,
and he anticipated the feel of fangs sinking into his flesh. He had no time to
react, so he did what was counterintuitive: still holding the Wilvox, he rolled
onto his back, holding it out in front of him, its back atop his stomach, its
legs kicking in the air. The other beast, airborne, landed with his fangs—and
instead of finding a target in Alec, the fangs sunk into the exposed belly of
the other beast. Alec held on tight, using it as a shield, as it shrieked and
squirmed. Finally, he felt it go limp in his arms as its hot blood poured out
all over him.

It was a moment
both of victory and of profound sadness for him: Alec had never killed a living
thing before. He did not hunt, like most of his friends, and he didn’t believe
in killing anything. Even though he knew the beast would have surely killed
him, it still hurt him to see it die.

Alec suddenly
felt a searing pain on his leg and he cried out and looked down to see another
Wilvox biting him. He kicked his leg away before the fangs could sink any
deeper and immediately jumped into action. He shoved the dead beast off of him,
and as another Wilvox lunged for him, he scrambled to think. He felt cold steel
pressing into his belly, and he remembered: his dagger. It was small—yet it
might be just enough to do the trick. In a final act of desperation, Alec
grabbed the dagger, stiffened his arm, and held it out in front of him.

The Wilvox came
down and as it lowered its jaws for Alec, its throat was impaled on the blade.
It let out an awful shriek as Alec held tight and the blade sank all the way
in. Its blood poured all over Alec as it finally went limp, its razor-sharp
fangs just inches from his face, its dead weight atop him.

Alec lay there,
his heart thumping, unsure if he was alive or dead, covered in blackness from
the beast’s matted fur, which stuck to his face. He felt his leg throbbing
where he had been bit, heard himself breathing, and he realized he was,
somehow, still alive.

Suddenly a shriek
ripped through the night air, and Alec snapped out of it and remembered: Marco.

Alec looked over
to find Marco in dire straits: he was wrestling with a Wilvox, rolling in the
snow, it snapping at him as he barely held back its jaws. As the beast snapped
again, Marco’s hands, slick with blood, slipped, and the beast’s fangs came
down and grazed his shoulder.

Marco cried out
again, and Alec could see there wasn’t much time. The other Wilvox lunged for
Marco, too, who lay there prone, his back exposed, about to be killed.

Alec burst into
action, not stopping to think twice about risking his life to save his friend.
He ran for Marco with all he had, praying to God he made it before the beast
did, each of them about ten feet away. They leapt into the air at the same
time, the Wilvox to tear Marco apart and Alec to jump in the beast’s way and
take the injury in his stead.

Alec made it
just in time, and as he did, he suddenly felt the horrific pain of the Wilvox’s
fangs sinking into his arm instead of Marco’s. He had achieved his objective,
had spared Marco from a lethal bite, but he had received a horrific bite in his
stead, the pain intense.

Alec tumbled
with the beast, throwing it off of him, clutching his arm in pain. He reached
into his belt for his dagger, but he could not find it—and he remembered, too
late, that he had left it lodged in the other beast’s throat.

Alec lay on his
back, barely holding back the Wilvox, now on all fours on his chest, and he
felt himself losing strength. He was exhausted from the wound, from the
fighting, and he was too weak to fight off this creature, all muscle, and
determined to kill. As it leaned in, ever closer, its saliva dripping onto
Alec’s face, Alec knew he was out of options.

Alec looked for
help from Marco, but he saw his friend still wrestling with a Wilvox himself,
and losing strength, too. They would both die here, Alec realized, beside each
other in the snow.

The Wilvox on
top of him arched its back and prepared to sink its fangs into Alec’s chest
with one final strike, which Alec knew he was too weak to resist—when suddenly,
it froze. He was baffled as it lingered there, let out an awful cry of agony,
then collapsed limply on top of him.

Dead.

Alec was
stumped. Had it been shot in the back by an arrow? By whom?

As he sat up to
figure it out, Alec suddenly felt something awful and cold and slimy slithering
up his leg—colder even than the snow. His heart skipped a beat as he looked
down and realized it was the snake. It must have slithered down the tree and
struck the Wilvox, killing it with its lethal venom. Ironically, it had saved
Alec.

The snake-like
creature slithered slowly, alternately crawling on its legs, like a millipede,
around the dead Wilvox, coiling itself around its body, and Alec felt a terror
even greater than he had when the Wilvox was on top of him. He scurried out
from under it, eager to get away while the snake was distracted.

Alec scrambled
to his hands and knees and rushed forward and charged the Wilvox still pinning
down Marco. He kicked it as hard as he could, its ribs cracking as it went
rolling off his friend, right before it could bite him. The beast whined and
rolled in the snow, clearly caught off guard.

Alec yanked
Marco to his feet, and Marco turned and charged the beast, kicking it as it
tried to get up, again and again in the ribs. The beast rolled several feet,
down a bank of snow, until it was out of sight.

“Let’s go!” Alec
urged.

Marco needed no
prodding. They both took off, racing through the wood, the snake still coiled
around the Wilvox, hissing and snapping at them as they went, barely missing
them. Alec sprinted, his heart pounding in his chest, wanting to get as far
away from here as possible.

They ran for
their lives, bumping into trees, and as Alec glanced back over his shoulder,
wanting to make sure they were in the clear, he saw something that made his
heart drop: the final Wilvox. It just would not stop. It scrambled back up the
snow bank, and now hunted them down as they ran. Much faster than they, it
bounded through the snow, bearing down on them, its jaws widening, more
determined than ever.

Alec looked
forward and spotted something up ahead: two boulders, taller than he, a few
feet apart, a narrow crevice between them. He suddenly had an idea.

“Follow me!”
Alec cried.

Alec ran for the
boulders as the Wilvox closed in behind them. He could hear it panting behind
him in the snow, and he knew he had only one chance to get this right. He
prayed his plan worked.

Alec leapt over
the boulders, landing on the other side in the snow, as Marco did the same,
right behind him. He stumbled in the snow, then turned and watched the Wilvox
follow. It leapt up, too, and as he had hoped, the beast, unable to climb, and
slipped on the rock and got lodged in the narrow crevice between the boulders.

It wiggled,
trying to break free, but it could not. Finally, it was trapped.

Alec turned and
examined the beast, breathing hard, flooded with relief. In pain, scratched up,
the small bite on his leg hurting, and the big bite on his arm killing, Alec finally
realized the nightmare was over. They were alive. Somehow, they had survived.

Marco looked at
Alec, eyes filled with admiration.

“You did it,”
Marco said. “The kill is yours.”

Alec stood
there, hardly a foot away from the helpless beast, which was snarling, wanting
to tear them apart. He knew he should feel nothing but hatred for it. But
despite himself, he pitied it. It was a living thing, after all, and trapped,
helpless.

Alec hesitated.

Marco reached
down, picked up a jagged rock, and handed it to him. Alec held the rock, sharp
and heavy, and knew that one decisive blow could kill this creature. He held
the rock, feeling the cold weight of it on his palm, and his hand trembled. He
could not bring himself to do it.

Finally, he
dropped it in the snow.

“What is it?”
Marco asked.

“I can’t,” Alec
said. “I can’t kill something helpless. However much it may deserve it. Let us
go. It can’t harm us now.”

Marco stared
back, shocked.

“But it will
break free!” he exclaimed.

Alec nodded.

“It will. But by
then, we shall be far from here.”

Marco furrowed
his brow.

“I don’t
understand,” he said. “It tried to kill you. It wounded you—and me.”

Alec wished he
could explain it, but he did not fully understand it himself. Finally, he
sighed.

“It was
something my brother once said to me,” Alec said. “When you kill something, you
murder some small part of the world.”

Alec turned to
Marco.

“Let’s go,” Alec
said.

Alec turned to
go, but Marco held out a hand and stepped forward.

“You saved my
life,” Marco said, reverence in his voice. “That wound on your arm you received
because of me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead back there. I owe you.”

“You owe me
nothing,” Alec replied.

“You risked your
life for me,” Marco said.

Alec sighed.

“Who would I be
if I did not risk my life for others?” Alec said.

They clasped
arms, and Alec knew that no matter what happened, no matter what dangers lay
ahead of them, he now had a brother for life.