The possessed bull was ready to charge any moment. It would cover the distance in a matter of moments and crush Ymdaton, who was too weak to run or defend himself.
An unexpected movement close by distracted both the man and the thing. A heavy spear flew through the air and struck the animal in the side. The doppelganger turned its head right and left furiously, looking for the enemy. Without making it wait, the attacker rode from the woods on an enormous bakhmat. The steed was at least a time and a half larger than an average one. The warrior in dreavlyani armour riding upon it was similarly of an imposing build.
He halted right between Crewslayer and the false bull, dismounting and unsheathing a long straight sword. He held the blade in one arm, although the size of it was more fitting for a two-hander. On his back was strapped a tear shaped shield size of a door with an image of a mountain painted upon it. The newcomer stood still as if daring the beast to attack.
The thing did not hesitate a bit. Its head lowered, the animal charged, sending large chunks of soil and grass flying from under its hooves. The unknown warrior did not move a step. With a held breath Ymdaton waited for him to be smashed aside.
Instead, when the shapeshifter was at hand’s breadth, the man grabbed it by the horn with a free palm and bent its head to the ground with a single powerful motion.The monster struggled to get free, kicked at the ground with all four feet, rocked with its whole body, yet the warrior’s grip was unbreakable. He lifted the sword and pierced beast’s cranium right through the hollow eye. The giant twisted the blade several times and then pulled it out. The bull was not moving anymore.
The warrior cleaned his weapon against victim’s fur, put it back into the scabbard and mounted again. Crewslayer called out, but the man either did not hear or simply ignored him. He rode away as quickly as he appeared, never even turning his face to Ymdaton. Crewslayer felt his breath getting heavy. He leaned on a closest tree. In several heartbeats his sight darkened and the warrior lost track of the world around him.
He was brought back by the feeling of wetness and scratching on his face. Crewslayer opened his eyes to see himself lying on the grass. Beside him was standing a bakhmat, the one that tried to escaped from the shapeshifter earlier. The animal pocked Ymaton with its snout, urging him to wake up. Grabbing the steed by the fur and the tack, with a massive effort he managed to stand up. The beast waited patiently, allowing him to take his time. While catching his breath, the warrior glanced at where he remembered the doppelganger fell. Again, only a rotten carcass remained here.
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Ymdaton gathered his strength and mounted bakhmat. He strapped the reins to his belt, in case he lost consciousness. It was a wise decision, for before the steed carried him even half a league, he passed out again.
When the light returned, the first thing he saw was Dragomir’s concerned face. Ymdaton looked around. He was in the bed in his personal chambers, in the merchant’s house, back at Khladnetz, bandaged all over.
“This is a dream, isn’t it?” sighed he.
The trader did not answer, but simply patted Crewslayer’s arm. The warrior flinched in pain.
“You should be thankful to bakhmat handlers,” said Dragomir, “the beasts are trained to return home no matter from where and how long it could take.”
“What about the medicine?” asked the warrior quietly, “in all that excitement I kind of lost track of it.”
“You had a sack of a tree bark with you,” told the merchant, “it was more than enough to cure my son. He is feeling much better now. I will be eternally grateful to you.”
Ymdaton closed his eyes. A peaceful smile appeared on his face.
“Now if there was someone left alive to be rewarded,” said Dragomir with unclear notes in his voice.
There should have been a feeling of sadness, thought Crewslayer. Three good men died in the hopeless confrontation. But the sheer joy of being alive despite all the chances was stronger. Besides, his noble mission was complete, the child saved, so they did not perish in vain.
“Will I do?” asked he.
“Rest well and rebuild your health, warrior. For you would not even lift a sack of gold which I have prepared for you in your current condition,” answered the merchant with a laugh and left the room.