23. D（ire） Bears #2
ROAR. The dire bear lunged, and the wind flowing from Tarantula just barely stopped him from being ripped to shreds. His magic faltered, the glow dimming around his hands. He’s been poisoned.
One of Tarantula’s legs gave out, his face blue under the strain . . . and then his other leg. He kneeled beside the pool, shirt fluttering, shaking with effort as the beast roared above him. A thick sheen of sweat covered his face.
Please let my blades be steady and my aim true.
“No, Zora.” Tarantula’s eyes widened as I leaped past him with my daggers extended. “No!”
Claws swiped. I tilted my head to the side, and the very end of my braid sliced off, hair unraveling as I slammed both blades deep through layers of fur, going for the heart. My aim was true, but the pelt was impossibly thick.
The dire bear howled as we careened around the room. Its maw angled down. Long teeth snapped in my face, a hair’s breadth away. I flinched and closed my eyes, expecting to feel the blow of claws against my back, but it never came.
Magic hissed, and the dire bear growled as its paws were yanked above its head, pinned together by silver tendrils of power. The bear craned its head down, fangs gnashing as it tried desperately to get to me. With its arms held up, I was just out of reach.
With all my might, I held my daggers in place. Struggling for purchase as we careened, I glanced over my shoulder. Tarantula was slumped with his back against the wall, his legs slack on the floor.
His head lolled to the side, and his eyes were barely cracked open. But his hands were still raised high, silver pouring off them. His decorative platinum wrist cuffs glowed brightly beneath his shackles.
Tarantula’s slitted gaze promised me a deadly retribution if I didn’t stop my current course of action.
I held tight.
The dire bear charged forward. BOOM. We exploded through the wall, wood splintering around us, and I was violently thrown off its body, my daggers dislodged from its chest.
Bathhouse patrons screamed. Groaning, I slowly got up to my feet, body aching from the blunt force trauma. The dire bear looked bizarre, front paws trapped above its head. Leaning its neck forward awkwardly, it roared, spit flying from its awful maw.
A boy cried out, his back against the side of the large pool right in front of the monster. He can’t be more than ten years old.
The dire bear focused on him.
Pointing my bloody daggers, I ran.
Screaming, I tried to distract it, but the dire bear was already lunging forward. In slow motion, the boy closed his eyes, hands covering his head.
I jumped, arms outstretched.
Halfway above the pool, I collided with the dire bear. We smashed down into the hot water. I stabbed as the mammoth body kicked out. The claws on its foot clipped the side of my leg, scoring deep.
In a blur of violence, we sank downward, finally coming to a stop at the pool’s surprisingly deep bottom.
I stabbed at the dire bear’s chest, twisting to get a better position. Crimson floated up in inky clouds, turning the heated water red. The beast twitched and roared as Tarantula’s magic somehow kept its paws pinned.
Temples pounding, I pointed a glowing hand at its head. The water slowly spun around us, forming a whirlpool. Silver streamed into its open mouth as I drowned it.
Heart in my throat, I willed the water into its orifices as I tried not to pass out.
Silver pinned the monster against the bottom of the pool, but exhaustion made it hard to think.
I had only a few seconds, sustaining so much magic.
My headache intensified as the dire bear kept fighting, thrashing and kicking desperately.
My lungs burned unmercifully. Panic mounted.
I need air.
Air.
Air.
Air.
I was running out of time.
End it now. Sinking deeper into a hunting headspace, I dug my daggers farther into its chest and ripped them with all my might in a square formation, yanking off the thick layer of fur and then blubber. The pieces drifted away, up to the surface.
Kicking desperately to stay low, I brought my knives down, breaking through the thick rib cage with a loud crack. Blood gushed out, fully blinding me as the dire bear twisted.
Eyes squeezed shut, I skinned it by feel, just like I’d done with other beasts a thousand times before. Despite its larger size, the anatomy occupied the same general positions.
I sliced the four thick vessels of the heart as it contracted against my hands. Next I dislodged the broad windpipe, severing the breathing tube from the back wall of the rib cage.
I dropped one of my daggers, and it sank to the bottom of the pool as I reached in with a free hand and ripped the heart clean out of the exposed cavity. A horrible bubbling growl rolled through the water, and the dire bear went still.
Air.
I kicked toward the surface with everything I had.
Gasping, I sucked in oxygen greedily as I threw the still-beating heart onto the pool deck. I clutched a dagger in one hand and the edge of the pool with the other. The boy huddled in the corner, staring at me with an open mouth. Shock and awe on his face.
Coughing up water, I clung to the edge, resting my throbbing skull against the cool tile.
Lucky girl—
Fingers wrapped tightly around my ankle and wrenched me down. I screamed, bubbles exploding upward.
A snarling man with long, dark hair hung suspended under the water; a human heart beat within his open chest cavity. Shifters have two hearts. Blood turned the water red between us, and my fingers cramped around my last weapon. Light glinted off bone in his hand. The dagger I dropped.
Time slowed to a horrible crawl.
He lunged.
With everything I had, I drove my knife deep into his exposed chest. He sliced his blade clean across my neck.
Everything went eerily still. Peaceful. My body was—gone—detached from my soul as I hung suspended in the murky water. The man’s eyes widened as his heart stopped.
Darkness; nothing less.
* * *
Eyelids heavy, my lashes fluttered open. Ice-covered branches swayed above, snow sparkling in the bright light.
A haze of emerald light took the shape of a tall person as they bent over me. The willowy figure had long hair, soft effeminate features, and a muscular build.
Every time I tried to focus, they disappeared. It was like trying to stare straight at the sun.
“Zora Ravenal,” they said, voice vibrating with the might of a blizzard. It came from every direction all at once. “Your soul has been judged. You have been found worthy and have earned the title Keeper of my forest.”
Like the fairy tales? I thought, exhausted with certain death.
“This is no tale,” the emerald figure boomed, somehow hearing my thoughts.
Who are you?
“I am Barren, one of the great.”
Great?
“Elves.”
Oh.
“I tasted your soul when you were ten years old,” Barren said with gravitas. “I marked your face with silver—a warning for all to stay away and not interfere, because you have been under my trials. I have been watching you.”
Unmerciful pain burned down the longest scar on my face as if it was being opened anew. I screamed through gritted teeth.
“You have passed your trials. You have been found worthy.”
I didn’t do anything?
“You sacrificed your soul for a helpless child,” Barren continued. “Zora Ravenal, you are now bonded to my forest—to me.”
What does that . . . mean?
Barren’s voice intensified, howling like an ice storm. “You must fight for those who cannot help themselves.”
With great effort, I turned my head. Blood was splattered across virgin snow.
A few feet away, icicles hung delicately from a single rose, sitting lonely in the white, aflame with magic.
The bloody droplets on the snow vibrated, coagulating together, and slowly traveled toward me.
Warmth burned across my throat, skin knitting itself back together.
Barren shimmered in and out of focus. A faint memory played of Mom describing elves as worlds unto themselves and more magic than people. In rare instances, elves used their powers to create Keepers, who were granted a secret strength—a power—and Mom always spoke of Keepers with great reverence.
What is the power of a Keeper? I thought wearily.
As if reading my mind, Barren said, “Your power is to act for those who cannot.”
But how does a Keeper do that?
Barren shook their head like they were disappointed in me.
“That is the point. You act on behalf of those who cannot help themselves . . . Good luck to you on your quest. I have foreseen. You are going to need it.” Barren paused cryptically. “Before you go, you may have your memory back.”
A glitching emerald finger pressed against my forehead. Barren’s touch felt like snowboarding down a mountainside, jumping high, and landing a backflip perfectly . . . But then time warped in a blur of white as a bizarre falling sensation stretched me in different directions.
Abrupt stillness.
I blinked.
It was summertime in the Barren Forest, and I was ten years old, screaming in agony.
A dire bear’s claws had just slashed down my face. Turning desperately, I covered my head, pain streaking across my back as the beast sliced me open. I collapsed face-first onto the ground. Choking, I stared at a tree, smiling sadly. To the forest, I return.
I coughed out blood. Snow melted as a silver puff of magic rose into the air. Droplets sizzled as they sank through the frozen dirt as if pulled by a force below.
The ground shook, and trees rustled together. Pine cones rained down. A burning warmth reached through my chest, straight into my soul. The shaking intensified, and my teeth rattled.
A green stem sprouted from the exact spot where my blood had disappeared, a splendid rosebud unfurling with delicate red petals.