Twelve #2
Lovec, guide my steps.
I scream in pain, in resolve, in violence, and I’m up the second swell before the beast crashes through the gold. The sliding piles disrupt my climb, and I slip backward, but I keep moving, keep living.
Lovec, grant me strength.
My face burns where he marked me, and I feel the hunter’s power wrap my bones in warmth. The reptile behind me barrels for his meal, but I roll down the second hill without falling victim to his fangs. One more swell, and I’m at the sword.
Lovec, do not abandon me.
My lungs burn. My muscles cramp. Sweat coats my skin, and the monster’s foul breath is hot on my neck.
Its snapping jaws rattle the air, and on slipping legs, I vault over the coins to the weapon.
My fingers grip its hilt, and I rip it free from the horde.
My hips crash hard against the gold as I land, but I ignore the bruising as I roll onto my back, swinging the sword just as the monster leaps for me.
Its jaw unhinges, readying to swallow me whole, and I barely have time to position the blade before me.
I scream as the beast’s fangs slice into my arm, but with a surge of energy and a burning face, I thrust the sword into the creature’s mouth.
Metal meets flesh, and as its fangs carve into my biceps, my blade carves into its brain.
I roar as my blood runs thick and hot, but I keep pushing, forcing the weapon further into its skull.
For a moment, I fear my fight is too little, too late, and the reptile will devour me, sword and all, but with a shudder that shakes the entire cave, the creature dies.
I stare in disbelief as its eyes fade into death, and then its body collapses.
His protruding jaw lands on my stomach, and I jerk underneath its bloody weight until I’m free.
I scramble backward, pulling the weapon with me, but as I extract my arm, the monster inflicts one final wound, slicing through my forearm.
My entire right arm is a gory, mangled mess, but I’m alive. I am the hunter, not the prey.
I stand on unsteady feet and hold my bleeding fist over the beast’s skull. His death is offering enough, but I add my blood to the worship.
Lovec, accept my sacrifice.
I lift my bloody fingers to my face and trace the mark the god of the hunt made on my skin. My flesh burns excruciatingly, but I savor the pain. It’s Lovec’s mark, his acceptance of my offering, for I am his. We are much the same. The gods have not forsaken me.
* * *
It takes three excruciating tries to force my shoulder back into its socket, and then I slide down the gold to the lake’s edge.
I clean my arm as best as I can, but the blood won’t stop flowing.
The deep punctures worry me, but I’ve no way of treating them here.
Removing my shirt, I bind the many wounds as tight as the fabric allows.
At least in the nothingness of the Mitte Midagi, there’s no one to judge my nakedness.
I would remove my pants and shred them into bandages as well, but the thought of trekking through that grass without protection on my legs keeps them firmly in place.
The Stranger stitched my thigh with skill.
Perhaps he’ll grace me once more with his presence to prevent me from bleeding out.
Wounds bandaged, I dip my hand into the lake to drink when I see them.
The bones. Hundreds of them line the bottom, and I let the water drip through my fingers, suddenly not thirsty.
Remains of all the monster’s prey lay in white heaps below the surface to pile in the silt, but there’s one limb with flesh still perfectly preserved.
An arm. His arm, the black magic preventing him from decaying.
I dive, exhausted lungs aching as I hold my breath, and the second his skin touches mine, the poison burns my fingers.
Two punctures mar his biceps from where the crocodile must have tasted him.
If the monster wasn’t dead, I would kill him for desecrating his body, but if the sting of the black magic against my skin is any indication, the creature’s mouth probably burned with an unholy vengeance.
When I surface, I set his handless arm down on the stone and search for something amidst the treasure to carry it.
This dark poison hurts worse than his other limbs, and I’m not sure if it’s because it’s one of his final pieces or if it’s because my body is so weak.
Thankfully, I find a sack filled with gold and priceless jewels, and I start to dump them out before I freeze.
If the sheer number of bones is any sign, hundreds before me tried and failed to steal this horde.
I’ve no interest in greed, but if The Stranger can do what he promised, Kaid and I will need coin.
So, I shove his arm atop the wealth and then slip back into the lake to return to the grasslands above.
It takes the rest of the day and some of the night to escape the Mitte Midagi, but when I finally locate my horse, I can barely stand. With weak triumph, I throw the bag of treasure onto the cart, and I hear The Stranger laugh in my mind.
“Well done, my child. Well done.”