CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Man Against Beast

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The flametail leopard was a fight that pushed Bram, Bridget, and Chris to their utmost limit. By the end of it, all three of them were bloodied and bruised but they did survive the encounter. The same couldn’t be said for the flame-tail leopard. The beast that had shown such savage fury dropped dead at Bram’s feet just before it could take one final swipe at him with its claws.

 

 

 

 

Bram didn’t feel too bad about this. It was enough that Bridget and Chris had earned the same reward as the total amount of experience earned from the kill would have been divided among the three. Of course, the seventh prince had something else to be glad about too.

 

 

“I need more…life-and-death encounters,” he said, half-breathless.

“Speak for yourself,” said Bridget who’d fallen on her butt from fatigue and now sat cross-legged on the forest floor. “I’ll stick to wolpertingers and blackheart stags, thanks.”

‘Grrr…’

Two pairs of eyes snapped toward the shadows creeping beyond the light of Bram’s sunstone.

“Y’all had to jinx it,” Chris said.

The Texan raised his shield just as two more flametail leopards stepped into the light. Both were slightly smaller than the beast the trio had just slain, but their gazes shared the same glint of hunger that the first flametail leopard did.

As he pulled his longsword out of the dead flametail leopard’s spine, Bram noticed an odd thing. “They all have the same eyes…”

He didn’t mean it literally. Only that the same glint of rabid hunger had been present in the wolpertingers' gazes too.

“Tis a curse,” Rowan answered.

She, Hajime, and the guide the Stargazers loaned their party crossed over to where Bram and his two squires formed a defensive line against the two flametail leopards. Correction, a third flametail leopard—one even larger than the first dead beast—arrived to send shivers climbing up the party’s collective spines.

“These beasts have been driven to hunger by an ill will.” Rowan glanced to her left. “Can you feel it as well, Vice Master?”

“Yes…I can sense a dark presence in the forest,” answered Ravi Samal, who, besides playing the role of gatekeeper, tea server, and coven representative, was now the party’s guide inside the Red Forest. “It’s like a fel voice in the air.”

‘Grrr…’

The largest of the three flametail leopards—the one with a garish scar around its left eye—let loose a guttural growl that caused the ground to shake.

“It seems we’ve outworn our welcome, My Prince,” Rowan said in her usual impish tone.

“I would welcome the danger”—Bram brandished his sword at the largest of the beasts—“if it meant we were much closer to finishing this quest.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite go as the seventh prince hoped. For even with Rowan and Ravi supporting them from the rear, their battle against the cursed beasts soon turned disastrous for Bram and his otherworlders. Seven more flametail leopards arrived during the fierce struggle where every clash of steel and bone was a brush against death. This leap of leopards drove Bram’s party into dire straits where they had no choice but to flee or lose most of their members in this struggle.

Bram, who stood as rearguard while the others gathered behind the sorcerers, was separated from his party by the largest of the flametail leopards, which, besides its abnormal size, seemed special in comparison to the rest of its leap. The fires sprouting out of this leopard’s spots coated its entire body in flame, making it extra-resilient against the party’s sorcery.

“Rowan!” The seventh prince turned his gaze over to the trickster who was singlehandedly fending off three beasts with only her Bloody Falchion in hand. “Take care of them!”

Bram didn’t wait for a reply. He plunged into the shadows of the trees in the opposite direction to force the largest flametail leopard into chasing after him. In his mind, Bram calculated that if he could take this beast out of the equation, then Rowan and the others could deal with the rest of the leap on their own. Only, as the sounds of pursuit followed him, Bram couldn’t help wondering if even ‘Status Emulation’ was enough to challenge such a savage beast as the one that hounded him now.

“What doesn’t kill me”—he tore through the forest floor like an arrow in flight—“will make me stronger…”

His bravado pushed him onward and right into the path of an exposed tree root that latched onto his foot.

“Phoebus’—”

Refusing to fall completely, Bram dropped shoulder-first so that he could roll forward and use the momentum to slide out of the way of the flametail leopard that just pounced on his back.

“—Cock!”

He’d been angry at the root that tripped him, but this anger evaporated once he realized that the fall also saved his life. For had the root not forced him to stumble, his head would have been skewered by the dagger-sized claws of the flametail leopard’s paw.

‘Crash!’

Without the seventh prince to cushion its landing, the beast crashed into the trunk of a tall red pine, stunning it long enough for Bram to get back on his feet and flee.

“The god of fortune”—a grin flashed on the seventh prince’s face—“truly does favor the bold!”

It was a grin that was short-lived.

The beast’s roar caused a shiver to climb up Bram’s spine. Instinctively, he turned around, his longsword twirling forward in an arc, and then—wham—sparks flew as the seventh prince’s blade met an outstretched paw coated in flames.

“Argh!”

Bram just barely managed to block the attack, though the force of the flametail leopard’s strike was so strong that he was sent hurtling toward a line of pines behind him. He crashed spine-first against a tree and then crumpled to the ground with a groan.

“No…”

Black spots hovered over Bram’s vision. His back ached terribly.

“Not today…”

Groggily, he sat up.

“I won’t d—”

‘Grrr…’

A growl forced Bram’s gaze forward.

The flametail leopard crouched nearby. Close enough that it need only pounce for a third time, and it could pin Bram down onto the forest floor. Strangely, the beast that bared its fangs against the seventh prince took not one step forward.

“What…?”

This behavior change seemed so unnatural to Bram that his gaze was forced to flit left and then right in search of the reason for the beast’s hesitation. That’s when he noticed where he’d fallen. Bram lay half-prone between a pair of young pines whose red leaves had yet to darken like the older trees spread throughout the forest. Other young pines surrounded these two trees, and all of them had knotted silver cords tied around their trunks.

“These trees…” Realization dawned on Bram’s face. “…They’ve been made sacred.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Behind him was a small clearing of wildflowers bordered by an encirclement of young pines. The same ones that seemed to be repelling the cursed beast that wanted to rip Bram into shreds.

When his gaze returned to the flametail leopard’s, he couldn’t help flashing it a taunting grin. “You’re not allowed in here, are you?”

Hungry eyes drifted to Bram’s feet which were still on the other side of the fence of sacred pines.

“Oh, right.”

The flametail leopard pounced, but Bram was quicker. He tucked his feet in, bringing them into the protection of the fence of sacred pines before the beast’s claws could get at them. Instead, those savage paws smacked against one of the young pines—and then came a sound akin to a thunderclap. The cursed beast was thrown back while the flames that licked at its body winked out as if the beast had been doused in water.

It sent the seventh prince an indignant glare, and Bram replied with the middle finger.

“Not today.”

Meanwhile, Bram’s other hand brushed against one of the wildflowers scattered around the clearing. Only then did he give this flower the proper inspection it deserved.

“White sage…?”

It was a fact on Aarde that the scent of sage was repugnant to evil things. Bram even had a bundle of ‘Sage Torches’ neatly packed inside his bag for when the night came, and his party was in a place where the blessings of nature—a blessing that seemed all around him now—were nowhere in sight.

His gaze drifted from the white sage beside him to the silver cord tied around the nearest young pine.

“A double dose of sacred blessings to drive away evil…but for what purpose?”

Bram rose to his feet, dusted off the dirt and leaves clinging to his trousers, and then he moved deeper into the clearing.

“Is this a natural sanctuary or perhaps…?”

He spotted a mound of stones in the middle of the field.

“I see now.”

The rough stones piled one on top of the other rose to his waist height.

“This is a cairn.”

Scrawled on the surface of the stone at the very top of the cairn was an arcane array whose patterns resembled the constellations appearing in Aarde’s sky. Bram had seen this magic circle enough times now that he knew it activated the ‘Door of Dimensions’ sleeping within this arrangement of stones.

“This must be the last waypoint that the expedition made…”

Once more, Bram’s gaze drifted to nature’s protections scattered around him.

“The other waypoints didn’t have this sort of protective measures…” Bram’s brow furrowed. “What dangers did the coven encounter to require—”

From the gap between pines, he caught a glimpse of a large feline form.

“Ah, right…a silly question.”

The flametail leopard walked the fence of sacred pines as if contemplating how it could enter a place that had been made to repel the evil it brought with it. No, Bram didn’t think the beast itself was evil, but the curse of hunger that turned it savage must have been. For how else could a creature of this woodland realm be barred from any part of it?

“You’re not getting in here, so why don’t you just give up, you whore’s swine!”

In truth, the seventh prince didn’t want this flametail leopard to surrender. He needed the beast to remain fixated on him so it wouldn’t return to where his party was. It’s why Bram kept cursing the flametail leopard using such foul language that Sir Anthony would blush to hear coming from his prince’s lips.

“Not even Alcaeus would let you lick his ass with your crooked tongue!”

To lick the ass of a statue of the god of war after a victorious battle was considered a great privilege among his followers. For one to be told that they were barred from this sacred rite was akin to besmirching the honor of one’s entire house.

‘Grrr!’

A growl most menacing reached his ears, forcing Bram to back away from the fence.

“Bloody hell…”

Yes, he may have gone too far with that last round of cursing for it seemed the flametail leopard had heard enough. The beast disappeared from Bram’s sight so that he could no longer catch a glimpse of it through the trees. He could still hear it though. Only, with each awful sound spilling into the clearing, Bram was convinced that unfathomable devilry was afoot. For what first had been the labored growls of a beast soon turned to the gasps of a man in great pain.

“Emulate,” Bram whispered.

 

 

Even when the flametail leopard chased him across the forest, Bram chose not to use ‘Status Emulation’ because he believed it wasn’t yet the time to spend such a valuable boon. Now, however, the threat from beyond his sight—one that caused his spine to tingle—made it necessary to throw caution to the wind.

 

 

 

Before Bram could say the magic words, he heard a voice from right outside the fence of sacred pines. “You are not welcome here…”

It was a deep, guttural voice that seemed more beastly than man.

“Who are you to say this to me?” The seventh prince growled back. “Show yourself!”

A naked man stepped through the gap between trees as if nature’s blessing no longer barred his way from entering the clearing. Well, calling him a man might have been a stretch for there were few men in all Aarde as tall or wide as this one. Indeed, it had been a long while since someone dwarfed Bram’s size.

He had a muscular, reddish chest that seemed unaffected by the chilly late afternoon air. His dirty blonde hair was short and wild, brushed back and set like twin demon horns. It served to enhance the savage countenance of a face disfigured by a single jagged scar across his left eye and cheek. This was how Bram knew that the great flametail leopard that chased after him and the beastly man before him now were one and the same.

“You’re a wearg,” he realized.

The seventh prince had heard tales of humans cursed by the gods to live half-lives. One half as men who walked with two feet, while the other half as beasts who ran on four. Bram had never met one before now, but he was certain this man was such a creature.

The man’s lips curled into a snarl. “I am Scarfang…of the Flametail Leopard tribe.”

Scarfang was at least a head taller than the seventh prince, with shoulders much wider than Bram’s. His arms and legs were thick like tree trunks, and the nails on each toe or finger were sharp like a beast’s.

“I am Bram, Seventh Prince of the Atlan Imperium and Governor of Lotharin…”

One of Scarfang’s thick brows hitched upward. Clearly, he recognized the meaning of Bram’s title.

“Then you’ve come to rape our forest like those others before you…

Bram’s brow knotted together. “Your forest…?”

“Our tribe has lived here longer than when you outsiders built your walls outside its boundary…and we have grown tired of watching while you pillage our land and rape our mother.”

“The Red Forest is…your mother?”

If he hadn’t met Rowan, Bram might not have taken Scarfang’s words literally. However, it was no longer outside the realm of possibility to assume that something as old as this vast woodland realm might also have a consciousness—a spirit—that guided its growth.

“We did not come here to rape and pillage,” Bram insisted.

“Your actions speak louder than your words,” Scarfang argued.

“You came at us first,” Bram argued back. “We were merely defending ourselves.”

Scarfang scoffed. “You came to our home with your steel and your sorcery…killing the creatures who live under Mother’s care.”

This was a truth that was hard to argue against, though Bram knew that he had to try. For even now, the cogwheels of his mind were turning. If he could have a proper conversation with this wearg, then perhaps Scarfang and his people could become allies in the coming conflict with the north. There were other considerations as well. Chief of which was the search for the missing Stargazers. With the aid of these weargs, tracking the expedition would be much easier.

“We don’t have to fight.” As a show of good faith, Bram lowered his blade. “As I’ve said, we’re not here to take anything from you…”

This was technically not a lie because the problem of trade and security could be dealt with another time and with more diplomacy than Bram could achieve during this heated encounter.

“We’re here in search of our companions who’ve gone missing.”

“The conjurers who liked to watch the stars.”

“You know of the Stargazers…?”

“They went where they shouldn’t…and woke Mother from her slumber.”

“They woke the spirit of the forest…” Bram didn’t raise his sword again, though his grip on its handle tightened. “Did you hurt them?”

“Mother was angry.” Scarfang took a single step forward. “Angry at them… Angry at us.”

“I understand now…the spirit of the forest,” Bram’s brows knotted together, “that’s who cursed you with rabid hunger.”

As soon as Bram uttered those words, pain flashed on Scarfang’s face.

“Yes…”

Suddenly, as if the civility he’d just shown was beginning to wilt away, Scarfang growled.

“Always hungry now…hard to suppress.”

He bared his teeth at Bram.

To the seventh prince, this was a familiar scene. One that reminded him of his former coachman’s sudden and drastic change during their deathmatch.

“Don’t do it…” Despite showing restraint, Bram readied himself for the attack he knew was coming. “We can still—”

Scarfang leaped forward.

“Damn it!” Bram drew his longsword.

Sword and fist would have collided then and there, but in that moment between life and death, an interloper made her flashy appearance.

The red-haired trickster in her green traveler’s cloak fell from the sky to land right between Bram and Scarfang so that she caught his fist in one hand and the blade of Bram’s longsword in the other.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan smiled impishly at the wearg, “did I step on your moment?”

 

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Note:

• A group of leopards is called a ‘leap’ or ‘prowl’.
• Wearg is very old German for warg, which can mean wolf or outlaw.