Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,12
it would have been, against any other, any human, any natural opponent.
But the creature's obscene musculature suggested an inhuman strength, and Shins now proved that theory right. With impeccable balance, she landed on the broad haft of the spear itself, and though the weapon bobbed downward at the unexpected weight, the monster kept from dropping it, kept it held close to horizontal.
She had only fractions of a second, but she needed less. Still at a full-out run, she closed half the remaining distance and leapt once more.
Everything slowed, or so it felt. The breeze fell still; the rustling of the leaves grew hushed. She saw the creature tilting back, fighting to keep its eye on her, to bring its spear up behind her in her flight.
Hands reached out, snagging the beast's horn. Her grip secure, Widdershins swung her feet forward, spinning around the horn like a dance partner, the entirety of her weight and her momentum hauling back on the creature's head.
Strong it might be, but it still required solid footing.
The creature rocked, dropped its spear in a mad scrabble for balance—and toppled, wailing, down the slope.
The first fall slammed its back against the trunk, bark and skin both cracking at the impact. The second—as it must have, given the curve of the bole itself—came when the creature slid off the side and plummeted to the earth. The whump when it hit was almost tectonic; breath blasted from its lungs, and its single pupil grew wide and unfocused.
Panting a bit, Widdershins huddled farther down the sloped tree, where she and Olgun had barely managed to right themselves before she, too, took a short journey in a bad direction. The fall hadn't killed the thing—she could see that even from here—but then, she hadn't expected it to.
It did appear stunned, momentarily, and that would have to do. After it practically shrugged off the flintlock ball, Shins had been unsure if her rapier had even the faintest chance of penetrating its hide.
If the thing would lay still for just a moment, though, it wouldn't have to.
Shins drew her sword, measured the distance between her new perch and the earth, and dubbed it workable. Then she plunged.
The inhuman thing thrashed once only as the steel slid through its lone eye and into the brain beyond.
Knees throbbing from the hard landing, shaking as the last of Olgun's energies faded and his fatigue mixed and mingled with her own, Widdershins straightened. She groaned once, low and quiet, then winced at the squeal of steel on bone as she yanked her weapon free.
“Okay, Olgun,” she began, pressing at the twisted muscles near the small of her back, “what in the name of every god is going—?”
The body melted.
Like a snowman in the hot sun, but accelerated, the dead creature dissolved away in less than half a minute. Rivulets of liquid—well, liquid monster—dribbled away in snaking curves. From there it evaporated, forming tiny puffs and walls of mist before vanishing utterly.
Even stranger, however, the corpse very quickly split into two smaller bodies as it faded. Shins clearly saw the melting, dissolving substance form a pair of humanoid shapes, as though one had been standing atop the other in some sort of monstrous costume.
That was rubbish, of course; she'd seen enough, felt enough, to know the creature had been quite solidly real. Still, she clearly and distinctly saw what she saw.
“Olgun? What just happened?”
Confusion and bewilderment formed the bulk of his answer, but Shins could not possibly miss the fear mixed within—or, perhaps most importantly, the nagging sense of familiarity.
“You've seen this before?” she asked incredulously. The only thing she could think of that was even vaguely similar was a spell she'd experienced last year, allowing two people to share their strength, and even that was a far cry…
But no, Olgun hadn't meant anything that concrete. Finally, sifting through the sensations, she realized it was something about the magic of the creature—its basic nature, yes, but even more so its disappearance—that reminded him of something. It frustrated him more than a little that he couldn't place what it was.
“Come on,” Shins told him, forcing a lightness she didn't feel. “Let's go collect that horse so the poor thing doesn't starve, and find somewhere to bunk down for the night. I want to make Davillon tomorrow, okay?”
Home. It was a lovely thought, one with which the tiny god firmly agreed. So they moved once more into the woods, each of them pretending not to know precisely what the other