T'aakshi

The beast stalked forward through the blistering snows, finally coming into full view. It howled again at the sight of them, a deep, primal sound that set T’aakshi’s teeth on edge. He stood, rooted to the spot as though bound there, mouth agape. It towered over them, shaggy white fur tinted crimson around its slathering mouth, baring teeth as long and wide as his arms.

For a moment, the only motion came from the storm itself. He had been wrong—not even in stories had T’aakshi heard of a creature like this. Bear-like, but staggering in size, its limbs resembled the trunks of the great pines in the forests far south of them. Across its back and shoulders, he could make out what looked like obsidian fish scales overlapping each other to form some kind of armour; and, strangest of all, its muzzle was undoubtedly that of a plainswolf, its amber eyes sweeping across the hunters as it stalked towards them.

Chaos erupted. A flurry of arrows burst forth from the hunters behind him, some sinking into the creature’s flesh, others bouncing off of the strange, scaled armor across its shoulders. T’aakshi’s legs were like lead. He tried to will them into motion, but he could not tear his eyes away from the Beast.

It exploded into motion, crossing the space between it and them in a few, loping strides, straight through the flurry of arrow-fire. T’aakshi knew he should move, knew he should do something. Instead, his father stepped forward, putting himself between the creature and the rest of his tribe.

Everything else in his vision seemed to melt away into nothing, and the sight of his father dashing through the snow at an abomination that dwarfed him filled his eyes. T’aakshi knew what would happen. He had to move, had to help. His throat tightened, heart thundering in his chest and finally his legs moved, carrying him across the snow towards his father.

Ahead of him, his father ducked under a lunge from one of the beast’s clawed paws. He darted underneath it, and his spear danced, targeting the tendons at the back of its legs. The beast roared, breaking its stride to twist around and face his father again. It was unnaturally fast, lashing out with its arms like a whip. His father dived to the floor to avoid a first swipe, vanishing into the deep snow. A second followed, a slamming strike into the space his father had disappeared into.

The beast moved on and headed towards the source of the arrows still raining down on it, but T’aakshi only had eyes for where he had last seen his father. He staggered forward, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears overwhelming even the storm raging around them.

His father lay on his back in a pit of flattened snow. Blood frothed at the corners of his mouth, and he took horrible, gurgled breaths with his eyes held tightly closed.

T’aakshi knew, even as he collapsed to the floor beside the man that had raised him and lifted his head gently into his lap.

“No—” he gasped, but still he knew.

So did his father. Saamu opened his eyes at the sound of his voice, but they seemed to stare right past T’aakshi, unable to focus on anything.

“Shi?”

“I’m here, father.”

His breathing was already weaker. Gasping breaths further apart. His head trembled, but T’aakshi knew it was his own hands that were shaking.

“You need—”

Saamu coughed, spraying a fine crimson mist and staining his furs. T’aakshi did not look away from his father’s face. He knew what he would see if he dared to glance below.

“You need to help them.”

Every inch of him wanted to protest, wanted to tell his father that he couldn’t. That he needed to stay by his side. But he couldn’t refuse him. Not now.

“I promise, father.”

T’saamu smiled, and his breathing became so light it was almost imperceptible. He mumbled something, but the words came out more like a throaty exhalation of breath. No more came.

T’aakshi froze. His eyes darted back and forth across his father’s face, searching desperately for any sign of movement—any sign at all that he was alive. There were none.

“No. No. It can’t—”

His vision blurred as tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough—not without his father, not alone. Help them. It was the only thought that he could separate from the furious blizzard of emotion raging through his mind.

Help them.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I promise, father.

That thought alone dragged him to his feet, the pulsing drumbeat of his heart overpowering the battle-din in the distance and whipping winds in his ears. He swayed, legs weak, but the bodies of his kin that lay scattered behind where his father had fallen hardened his resolve. They had been good men and women. Folk that had taught him to fish, hunt, and fight. To build fires and tan leather. To survive.

Saka was closest to him, eyes wide and a pair of gaping tears in his chest. Saka had taught him to shoot. T’aakshi could see the memories of it, clear as a midsummer sky. He took the strongest of them—his first kill with a bow— and held it in his mind. His fists clenched as the tension of that hunt filled him, and the pride that came with preparing his catch for his family’s table flooded through him. He could see the arrow sail through the sky, even as the taste of seal-meat touched his tongue.

It burned. Flame tore through the vibrant colour of the memory of one of the greatest days of his life, leaving only empty grey in its wake. Pride and tension and joy left him, and in return for his sacrifice, the Gods filled him once more with power. It filled his veins like a river bursting its banks, a raging torrent of force ready to be turned to his will. Using this power, Self, was one of the few things T’aakshi had been forced to teach himself. Of his tribe, only he could touch it, could do the things that Self allowed one to do.

Thrumming with invincibility, he looked at the beast, the wrongness he had felt before tainting the wonder Self normally brought, a crystalline mountain spring spoiled by the rotting corpse of a drowned animal. It had paused in its rampage and turned back, allowing what was left of the hunting party to regroup behind it.

Plainsbeasts were said to be drawn to Self, and this one had known the moment T’aakshi had embraced his power. With more restraint than he felt capable of, he channelled a sliver of power to his eyes, and the world sharpened, every detail magnified and clear. Even from here, T’aakshi could see the shift in the animal, its black eyes gazing at him warily, no longer the look of a hawk observing scurrying mice.

Good. He allowed Self to flow through him fully, binding it to himself, to his muscles and skin. There was a tightness in them as his muscles grew and skin hardened, changing him into a true warrior of Tagaya. Burning different emotions had different results—anger allowed him to conjure the fire from before, whilst memories laced with pride or determination allowed him to fortify his own body.

The beast lumbered over in response, but T’aakshi didn’t wait. He sprung forward into the air, faster than any normal man, and was eye-level with the beast in a heartbeat, spear reared back to strike.

Fast as he was, it was faster. The creature struck out and T’aakshi twisted, bringing his spear across his body to block as the enormous paw crashed into him, swatting him to the floor. He landed on his back, skidding across the snow, strengthened skin taking the worst of the impact.

The beast turned away again, back towards the rest of the hunters currently peppering arrows into its back, even as T’aakshi clambered back to his feet. The self within him seemed to boil and froth in his veins as he realised it had thought him dead. Snarling, he redirected as much self to his spear-arm as he could manage and hurled the weapon full-force at the retreating creature.

It flew true, lancing straight into the beast’s left thigh and punching right through to the other side. The beast staggered, howling dreadfully as it felt the first genuine pain of the battle. But it didn’t fall. It only lumbered around slowly and made for him with a slow, terrifying fury behind its eyes.

T’aakshi couldn’t afford to let up, not now he had done actual harm to it. He reached for the hunting knife at his belt and readied himself to leap once more. The Self he had gained by burning his memory of Saka was noticeably less now and faded further every second he used it to increase his strength. This had to be ended quickly.

He darted towards the beast, feet falling light on the snow, knife in a reverse grip. It saw him coming, raising his arm to strike at him once again, but T’aakshi was ready for it. He waited for the beast to move, its movements slowed by pain, before flooding his legs with power and leaping inside the creature’s strike and delivering a vicious slash powered by magic and the force of his jump.

The throat had been the target. An instant death. Instead, a horrific wound on the beast’s shoulder opened up, spraying blood behind it. The beast swung a pained backhand at T’aakshi. In mid-air, he could only try to block with his arms to reduce the damage, and the blow carried him once more into the snow.

He landed face first, with his ears ringing and arms unmoving and throbbing with pain. The scraps of self left in him did nothing to ease it. Whatever was wrong with his arms was beyond his ability to heal, even with magic. He forced himself to move, using all of his natural strength to haul himself upright via some combination of core muscle strength and his forehead to steady himself.

T’aakshi searched for a fresh memory to restore his power, trying to ignore the warmth of whatever his head had fallen into as it trickled lazily down his face. He froze as it touched the corner of his mouth, and he tasted its distinct copper tang. The beast limped towards him, slowed by its wounds and exhaustion, but T’aakshi only had eyes for where he had dragged himself upright, and the crimson-slick snow where his head had been. He could still feel the warmth of it on him and knew that it covered his face with it.

The blood of his father.

Self left him like breath after being punched in the gut as his eyes met those of his father. He scrambled back from the body, trembling and gasping for air, falling back into the snow in his desperation to escape. Suddenly, a colossal weight slammed into him from above, driving him deeper into the snow and squeezing what little air he had left out of him.

The beast’s claws dug into his shoulders and T’aakshi’s mouth filled with snow as he squirmed wretchedly to find some air. His chest tightened and spots flashed across the back of his eyelids as consciousness slipped away from him. He was going to die here in the snow, alongside his father. There was a large part of him that was just fine with that.

Then, the weight disappeared and T’aakshi rolled onto his side, spitting snow and taking gasping breaths that burned in his lungs. Shouts of battle surrounded him, alongside the distant roaring of the Beast as what remained of the hunting party chased the wounded creature away.

The very last thing T’aakshi remembered of the day his father died was a hand resting on his shoulder, a voice like iron telling him to rest and the glassy, lifeless eyes of his father staring as consciousness abandoned him.