Chapter 5 — Weapons

The black-lit sky twinkled as usual above them. Soranth and his mother rested in the shade of the courtyard, peering up through the dense foliage of the goldenglow’s silver leaves. Beside them, an offshoot of Nahaliel River circled around, rejoining the main river branch through one of the older corridors that had eroded from constant water pressure. Thin branches had fully claimed over the disintegrating walls in a tight lattice of vines and twigs.

Soranth, still small enough to be tucked into his mother’s warm embrace, looked up at the pale veins of the silver leaves and allowed his gaze to slip past them.

“What is that, Mother?”

She looked at where he was pointing. The sky had always been dotted with multicoloured lights of bright red, white, yellow, green and blue. Yet this seemed like a more mottled yellow that speared through the sky like a small rip in a cloak, allowing a bright light to filter through.

“That, my darling, is a comet. You see,” she said as she settled her cheek on his short curls, “while our planet Earth is swept up in this uncontrollable journey through the universe, all we can see from down here are the small leftovers of other, bigger things out there.”

“A comet?” He looked up at her. “I’ve never seen one before.”

She laughed. “But you have, sweetie. Along with shooting stars, meteor showers. The comet acts like a boomerang, flying out in a curve until it returns to the same spot it started from. Usually, they go in circles around a bigger planet, it’s probably not going to return for quite a while,” she mused before looking up at a sudden noise.

“Milady, my Prince,” Chulsa interrupted with a respectful bow. “There are... ambassadors here to see you.”

“Ambassadors?” she repeated, puzzled.

“They’re in the throne room.”

“Come, Soranth. We can stargaze next time.” He pouted but jumped to his feet, eager to meet these mysterious ambassadors even his mother didn’t know about.

The sheer outer skirt of his mother’s gown flared out majestically as they swept into the throne room, throwing a protective veil over Soranth who had to jog to keep up with her. All at once, she stopped and he almost bumped into her.

“Ma?” He peered around her.

Two humanoid shapes stood in the centre of the open-aired room, looking small with their hunched shoulders. Soranth stiffened.

“Humans?” He whispered. He felt his mother’s arm draw protectively over his shoulders.

“No, darling,” she said in a low voice. “But something close to it.” They walked up together, taking note of the differences between them and the newcomers.

The first thing that stood out was the fact that they had red skin. Bright crimson as if they were running permanent high fevers. Yet, the red of their skin was all too similar to something that Soranth stared at every day: the Vermillion Plains.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” a clear, high voice rang out. “The answer is yes, we are from the western plains.”

“Don’t let the first thing we say to them be a lie!” A lower voice hissed that was obviously not intended for their ears.

The red figures turned around and Soranth hid a gasp. They were his age!

A girl and a boy with gaunt cheeks stared back at them with steady pitch-black eyes. “Are you going to kill us too?” the girl asked bluntly. He recognised her voice as the first person who spoke.

His mother drifted up the wooden steps and seated herself on her throne. “We never, ever kill ambassadors,” she answered seriously. Soranth perched next to her, atop a thicker branch that served as the arms of the chair. It had grown larger on the right side, giving him a place to sit during the longer meetings. “Can you tell me who tried to kill you?”

The boy elbowed the girl, his textured, rough skin scraping against her bare chest. “My sister is too serious sometimes,” he offered. “The only ones who tried to kill us are the beasts in the plains but we managed to escape.”

“Do you seek asylum in Maraciel?”

Soranth almost hopped impatiently on the spot. There were so many other questions he wanted to ask them. What they were, why they were red, where their parents were... Yet his mother had yet to remove the gentle hand she had placed on his arm, a sign that she didn’t want him to speak.

“What do you want if we agree?” The girl asked in a rude manner, holding her nose high.

She smiled back. “To befriend my son.” At that, her hand rose from his arm to the centre of his back as she pushed him forward off his perch.

“What?” Both of them looked confused.

“What I ask for is simple,” she repeated patiently. “I want you two to stay in the castle for a few days, wear our clothes, eat our food and play with my son. If, after those few days, you find that you simply cannot stand the sight of him—”

Soranth jerked around in outrage at her words.

“Then I give you leave to walk out those doors, pick a place anywhere within the borders of Maraciel and claim it as your own so long as it doesn’t intrude on another’s territory.”

“What’s the catch?” the girl challenged. She looked even younger than him. Her short stubby limbs looked incapable of holding a weapon, let alone escaping the untold monsters that lurked from wherever they were from.

“That’s it,” his mother said with a shrug. “Although I hope that if you do end up liking my son,” she continued while ruffling his shorn hair, “then you might consider staying for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“We can leave anytime we like?”

The Queen nodded and pushed him slightly harder when he refused to move.

“You won’t stop us?” This time, the boy chimed in. “Valda, come on! This is perfect, this is exactly what we need!” He pulled at her arm, a pout forming readily at her reprimanding glare.

“I suppose,” she said grudgingly. “Some food...”

Soranth could feel the displacement in the air as Chulsa disappeared from behind the throne where he’d been hiding in case the newcomers proved to be more dangerous than they looked. “It’s being made right at this moment,” the Queen said, opening her arms in wide. “Welcome, new citizens of Maraciel. May you find peace in the shelter of our woods and joy in the embrace of our people.”

She rose from her throne, pushing Soranth in front of her. “If you don’t mind, however, I believe my son has many questions for you.” With those words, she departed, leaving three lonely children to stare at each other.

Valda, as he had just learned was the girl’s name, glared at him hotly as if he had personally insulted her. The boy on the other hand bounced on his heels eagerly. His hard heels dug into the soil, leaving deep imprints that looked as if a rock had pounded into the ground.

Then the boy spoke. “So, where’s the food?”

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“Can we at least talk about this?” The voice cut through a thick silence, heightening the icy atmosphere.

Soranth and Haraldr lowered their heads even more as they hunted through the hidden trove of treasures that had been revealed when the boulders had been disturbed by Uzza. A scout had discovered the newly exposed entrance near the top of Boulder Ridge leading down to the cave, guarded by the mangled remains of what must have once been a sturdy metal door. It required them to rappel down on a rope to reach the bottom, much to Haraldr’s reluctance and the nagacougar’s absolute refusal. Valda had uttered a tearful goodbye—even though they would return before long—at the top before jumping in with an excited whoop.

Somehow, several chemyci had managed to make their way down including one, red-headed Lieutenant. She had pulled Valda aside and proceeded to have a one-sided conversation that didn’t stay quiet for long.

“No,” was the uncaring reply of Haraldr’s twin as she too sifted through a heap of gold bars and sparkling gems with her foot. Mixed in between were copious stacks of faded green slips of paper that flaked away at a gentle touch. They had yet to figure out how such a marvelous hoard had come to be, although Chulsa had speculated that the crumpled panels of lead lining the cave had once protected it from the elements, before cracking under the weight of the shifting earth.

“Why not.” Alizar’s tone was dangerously low, her hair glowing demonically in the flickering flames of the torch one of the soldiers carried.

“I don’t want to.”

“Look! How about these daggers, Prince!” Haraldr yelled, his voice suddenly booming in the small cave. He winced as the two females shot him a furious look at his interruption and meekly handed over a jewel-encrusted pair of daggers. “What do you think?” he whispered.

“Well, they’re a bit on the heavy side,” Soranth murmured, testing the weight. He couldn’t help but tense as two chemyci archers who had joined them in the cave giggled and stopped the second he glanced at them.

“NO!” his Lieutenant exploded, shocking him and everyone else for the second time in a row. Haraldr dropped his voice again, “I mean, what do you think they’re talking about?” He nudged his head in Valda and Alizar’s direction.

“Why don’t you find out?” he suggested, already knowing the answer.

“No way! They’ll both kill me! Look,” his voice rose hysterically, “they’re staring at me again! I can’t take it!”

Soranth dropped his hands by his sides impatiently. “What do you want me to do then?”

“You ask.”

“Look,” Soranth said, massaging his forehead, “I’m not going to ask for you.” Before he could say anything further, Valda called out in a tone of fake excitement.

“Har! Look here!” She waved. Swinging to and fro in her hand was a piece of gaudy jewellery.

“Here we go,” Haraldr muttered under his breath before pasting a nervous smile on. “What is it?”

“I think this’ll suit you perfectly,” Valda skipped up to him, completely ignoring Alizar whose face was steadily turned redder.

“Really?” her twin answered doubtfully, eyeing the necklace as it settled to a halt. It really was a garish piece of jewellery, Soranth thought as he hid a wince. The chain was a heavy white gold that expanded into links halfway down, giving ample room for the large emerald gems that were embedded in the sides. They were followed by a string of twinkling rubies that set off the skin tone of the twins perfectly. Completing the flashy piece was a long oval brick of amber stone in the centre, tapered at the corners and polished to an orange-yellowish gleam.

Haraldr reached for it slowly, transfixed by the showy jewels. “It is rather nice.” Soranth’s mouth dropped open, as did everyone else watching the scene unfold.

“See?” Valda preened. “I know what’s best for my brother. Go on! Put it on!”

He’s going to fall for it, Soranth thought with a fascinated certainty. True enough, with hesitation so minuscule only Valda and Soranth caught it, Haraldr carefully drew the necklace over his head and arranged it so the amber jewel sat at the base of his neck. Soranth had to turn away to hide an unseemly burst of laughter and as he did so, he noticed his comrades doing the same. They all shared a resigned shrug.

In all honesty, the necklace did look good on him, the trio of colours perfectly complimenting Haraldr’s crimson skin. Perhaps this was why when Alizar erupted, Haraldr was less than pleasant to her.

“Take it off!” The chemycus darted forward, reaching for the necklace. “Take it off! She’s just trying to trick you!”

“What are you doing?!” He grabbed her wrist tightly before it touched the necklace, looking shocked at her audacity.

“She’s trying to trick you!” Alizar insisted, red hair falling over her shoulders in waves.

“Valda won’t do that. Wait...” he frowned at his twin. Valda immediately jumped up, the fire of her tongue ready to lash out.

“How dare you say that! I picked it out because it made my brother look good!” she defended with an injured look. “Go on,” she turned to him imploringly, “Go ask anyone in this room what they think!”

Haraldr looked at her thoughtfully before bounding back to Soranth. “Max! Max! What do you think?” The necklace bounced off his bare chest, catching all the firelight in ways that made it glint beautifully.

The Prince almost swallowed his tongue at the black look Valda gave him as she raised a hand and crushed her fist in a threatening motion. “Whoever made it was truly talented!”

Haraldr beamed and Soranth relaxed as Valda shifted to look at the next soldier her twin accosted. The chemycus gulped and nodded rapidly with a muttered, “Such a good-looking necklace.”

Around the cave, murmurs of agreement echoed his sentiment:

“Looks great.”

“Wish I found it first.”

“Those jewels, incredible!”

“I want one too.”

The last sentence halted all movement as everyone turned to stare at the speaker incredulously. It was a young faun with twin curved blades at his back who shrunk slightly under their scrutiny.

“What?” he defended. “It’s a nice necklace!”

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All at once, they seemed to remember Valda’s aggressive gestures and nods of assent filled the room once more.

Alizar stomped away, her eyes glimmering in a familiar way that had Soranth cringing. “They’re lying!”

Haraldr shrugged and turned back to an ornate mirror that leaned against the nearby stone wall. For a second, Soranth felt a pang of sympathy for her as he recalled their impromptu therapy session in the woods. But then he also remembered what she had done to get him alone and how jealous she had tried to make Haraldr. Maybe he should just stay out of matters of the heart next time, Soranth mused as he picked up the nearest gem-encrusted dagger.

“Time for bed, folks!” Clone Chulsa yelled down the shaft, his reedy voice pinging off the walls. The soldiers around him grumbled but slowly lined up to climb up the rope while he and the rest of the Lieutenants held back. Soranth spotted the faun who’d spoken out previously with his two rapiers struggling to climb up—lacking enough arm muscle to draw himself up. The soldier was holding up the line and receiving an onslaught of teasing from his fellow waiting soldiers for it.

“Quiet!” Soranth snapped, suddenly annoyed on the flushed soldier’s behalf. The resounding silence was almost painful. The Prince could almost feel the remaining soldiers’ regard of him drop even more. He hid a wince by picking up a wickedly curved blade on the outside edge while the inside curves of the blade had a leather grip. He waved it experimentally.

Defeating Uzza had somewhat reduced the stigma of being a youthful royal who was, to their knowledge, as inexperienced as a newborn. Thanks to his mother’s over-protectiveness, Soranth never managed to show off his skills during the warrior bouts held at home and it was this that somehow convinced the younger generation he was a weakling. The older guards knew better of course, having grown up training alongside him but they knew that their words would do little to convince others without proof.

Soranth shook his head. There’s no time for introspection, he chided himself before turning his focus back to the blade. It caught in the wind weirdly, the unexpectedly heavy metal singing as it sliced through the air. He tested the weight and felt the thickness of the blade. It felt heavy yet thin, something that was odd for a blade that was so clearly meant for battle. Out of all the other treasures in the cave, this had the least decoration, limited to two narrow lines bordering the length of the blade.

When he angled the blade for an upwards swipe, it seemed to catch the air underneath and almost lifted right out of his hands. He gaped.

“What is that?” Haraldr admired from behind. Valda had gone ahead of them after the remaining soldiers, swinging her way up the rope with ease. Alizar scrutinised the duo, her expression hardening. She heaved herself up while bracing her hooves against the wall, disappearing into the darkness as she climbed higher. They both looked up, however, when they spotted the rope slowly being pulled up by her.

“Hey!” Haraldr shouted, attempting a running leap to catch the dancing rope that hung tantalisingly out of reach. It flicked right out of his hands before he could fully grasp it, leaving Haraldr and Soranth stranded in the dark cave.

“ALIZAAAAR! What do you think you’re doing!?” Haraldr roared up the tunnel, shaking his fist even though he knew she couldn’t see him. He began stamping through the hills of gold coins lying around, kicking the priceless treasure against the walls as they glinted in the faint starlight. Soranth stared at his raging Lieutenant and suddenly felt incredibly old. He looked back at the curious weapon in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Soranth replied to the earlier question before testing out a half-formed theory. He bent his elbow then with all his might, swung out and released the blade. Haraldr stopped in his tracks, his eyes bulging in shock as the blade soared through the air, making a loud humming noise as it spun through the distance in seconds and collided with the ceiling of the cave.

In awe, the duo watched as the blade proceeded to drill through the stone, boring through chunks of rock as if it was as soft as cheese. The blade continued its arc, curving around seamlessly. To Soranth and Haraldr’s utter shock, the blade gained speed as it hurtled down through the air, right back at them.

“It’s coming back! It’s coming—!” Haraldr gave a strangled yelp.

Soranth, who’d managed to hide his panic slightly better, followed his instincts even as his mind screamed at him not to and raised his arm out.

“NO—” the Lieutenant tried to stop him.

Against all odds, the inside curve with the weapon’s leather grip thwacked solidly into the palm of his waiting hand and the humming came to a sudden halt. They stared at the blade for a few seconds.

“I believe,” Soranth’s voice trembled as he spoke, “this is what my mother calls a boomerang.”

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Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait much longer as clone Chulsa, who’d been waiting at the top for the Prince, threw down the rope Alizar had left at the top. Soranth clambered up, having attached the newly acquired boomerang to the back of his holster belt along with two new daggers that slotted neatly into sheaths in his boots.

The hubbub of the camp continued even though most of the soldiers had turned in to recover. Soranth pulled aside the flaps of the tent he was sharing with Haraldr, noticing the slow exhausted movements of the milling soldiers. The adrenaline had long worn off, leaving nothing but husks of the brave warriors seen on the battlefield. It was times like this that he missed the warm embrace of Maraciel’s tropical forests, their kingdom never falling victim to the hot dry heat of the Vermillion Plains or the merciless glacial winds that swept across the rest of the globe.

He checked the sky once again. To his shock, the Camiel triplets were back where they belonged near the edge of the horizon. They had moved incrementally over the course of their journey, sitting neatly at the mark of two human days from when they started off. Soranth’s mouth tightened.

“Chulsa,” he called out as he gave Haraldr a hand up. “Do the Generals know?”

“Yeeep. They said to give the troops a rest for a whole day before moving, if that’s okay with ya of course, m’Prince.”

Soranth gave a quick nod and added, “Give all the time we need to collect ourselves.” The tiny clone vanished amongst the legs of passing soldiers to deliver his message.

The Camiel brothers had moved to the equivalent of another two days by the time the army had gathered their strength back. Weapons were redistributed and formations were tightened up to fill the missing spots. Haraldr had been overjoyed to learn of Varsuth’s return, staring up at every opportunity he was given.

To Soranth’s horror, all subtle hints had failed in getting Haraldr to remove the necklace. On one memorable occasion, Nathanael, still cradling the broken arm in a makeshift linen sling, had stared at the jewellery expressionlessly, gave a nod and briskly walked in the other direction, shoulders quaking. Haraldr had excitedly turned to Soranth, “See? Even teacher likes it!” He stroked the amber gem. His sister had proceeded to avoid him after that, citing that he looked too eye-catching with it on. In truth, Soranth knew it was because she couldn’t stop laughing whenever she caught sight of him.

Instead, she focused on soaking in the praise as soldiers admired her pet’s instrumental actions during the battle, polishing her new weapons and spoiling the nagacougar in equal measure. Soranth had decided to make use of the time by practicing with his new boomerang, drawing a bigger crowd of onlookers with every throw as the weapon hummed through the air. Valda had given his new toy an approving look and said, “What better weapon for you than something that returns? Hopefully you won’t find a new way to lose this one too.”

Alizar, on the other hand, had proceeded to disappear completely from their sights, not even returning to the camp for last meal. Nathanael had not been happy to learn of his missing Lieutenant and had field promoted Cresil instead, a long black-haired chemycus who fought with a broadsword and an exaggerated limp.

None of the trio was impressed with Cresil, having watched him grow and train with the other guards. Haraldr and Cresil had a bad history and the sentiment had bled over to Valda and Soranth over time. Sablo, in direct contrast to his fellow General, had unexpectedly promoted the faun that had caught Soranth’s eye in the cave to replace his missing Lieutenant’s position. His name, as they soon learned, was Rizoel and he had been the first soldier to draw blood against Uzza.

The Maraciel contingent soon began to move, slowly trekking its way across the tundra of the Vermillion Plains. As Camiel and Varsuth moved across the sky to cover a total of six rests from when they first left the forests, Valda was forced to choose a new constellation as hers disappeared on the other side of the sky. While she and Haraldr argued over what she would name it, Soranth stayed alongside the two Generals in the leading platoon.

As they marched, Soranth kept an eye on the map in his hands. They had already passed the Flatlands a few rests ago and were currently circling the ‘exploding holes’ as Haraldr put it. The Generals agreed that it was far too dangerous to risk the troops on shaky ground. It was only a short time after they set off when the Prince noticed the phenomenon once again.

“Send for the twins,” he ordered, not waiting for Clone Chulsa’s cheerful “Yep!” before he turned to the Generals. Both of them looked tired. He could see the shadows hanging in the recesses of their minds from the way Nathanael clenched his spear with his good hand and how Sablo kept his new Lieutenant close by, constantly giving quiet advice to help with his new duties. “The stars are gone again.”

His Generals tensed and unable to stop their automatic reactions, craned their necks upwards to check for themselves. As Soranth had stated, the usual celestial bodies they were used to seeing were gone, in their place an unsettling vacuum of darkness that stretched above them ominously.

“What is causing this?” Sablo hissed to the side in annoyance.

“I don’t know,” the Prince said with a frown, “But I have a theory.”

“Which is?” Nathanael asked in his deep voice.

Haraldr ran up with an urgent look, the necklace bouncing off his chest as he breathed heavily. “Prince! We have company!”

“I knew it,” he muttered and gave his Generals a grim nod. They bowed and turned to stop the soldiers while Soranth kept walking alongside Haraldr. “Tell me.”

“Valda and the clone have gone ahead to scout. We heard footsteps, Max.” His Lieutenant dropped all pretense of formality, tightening and loosening his fists in worry. Soranth shot a look at his childhood companion. He knew Haraldr inside out and it didn’t help Soranth to know that his friend was truly worried. “Max, it’s a Slyrdion hound. Sounds hungry too, we could hear it panting all the way from here.”

“Har, what’s the worry here?” Soranth stopped and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “We’ve already killed one, we’ve got proof.” He flicked the razor tooth hanging in his braid, sending it swinging.

“We got lucky!” Haraldr protested. “Plus, there’s way more people this time,” he shot the loud army behind them a look as they came to a grumbling halt. Weapons and armour clanked loudly. If the beast didn’t know where they were previously, it sure did now. Soranth knew what he was implying. More victims.

“More people means more people killing it,” he stressed before patting his Lieutenant on the shoulder. “Just to cheer you up, I suggest you look up.”

He pretended not to hear Haraldr’s choked cry of “Varsuth!” and strode towards a black shape that looked vaguely like Valda, ignoring the irate murmurs of soldiers from left and right questioning their latest orders. Instead, he looked towards the sky. The weak light of the remaining stars was not enough to illuminate the landscape, something that worried Soranth more than anything else. After all, how were they supposed to fight an enemy if they couldn’t see it?

“Where is it?”

She turned towards him, the wind from her ponytail whipping across his cheek. “In a few seconds,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. He followed her gaze, focusing on a star that suddenly disappeared. It was at eye level, meaning the beast was either really tall or really close.

That was when he heard it, the low, quick pants Haraldr had been talking about. It was accompanied by a deep growling from the base of the hound’s throat as the beast stepped into view. Soranth could feel the stirrings of fear bloom in his soldiers standing behind him—as far as he knew, the trio had been the first recorded people to ever take down a Slyrdion hound.

No fires had been lit for the march as they had to ration their limited supply of wood from Maraciel. This usually wouldn’t have posed a problem except for the mysterious disappearance of most of their available starlight. Not for the first time, Soranth wished they had found a way to sustain the light of crushed pixy bines so it lasted beyond a few rests.

Peeling away from the shadows as it inched closer with flattened ears and flared nostrils, the Slyrdion hound began to stalk them. Size-wise, the beast was at least a head taller than the chemyci, the tallest species of Maraciel.

Soranth made his body go still, his hand resting on the scabbard of his sword. Valda had vanished along with her pet. As a self-professed silent assassin, she had tasked herself with creeping up and lashing out from the shadows. With Uzza, her skills went almost entirely unused, what with its lack of intelligence. However, the hounds that stalked Vermillion Plains were famed for their hyper-sensitive senses, paired with a phenomenal speed that made them brutal predators.

They had yellow-slitted eyes that narrowed as they focused on Soranth and his army. An elongated snout, so long it could have doubled as a trunk except for the hard bones that pulled taut its leathery skin. The tongue was twice as long and sharp with stiff, small barbs that helped clean flesh off bones as it ate. Its canines were the length of the daggers Soranth kept and most definitely as sharp with their wicked gleam.

Velvet ears were folded back against a burly, bull-like neck. Looking almost ridiculously out of proportion, its slim body was hairless and pitch black, tapering down stick-thin legs suited for chasing down prey. The predator’s flicking tail sported an odd feature—a series of bulbous rings that produced a chilling sound that became the main reason Slyrdion hounds were feared.

“That damn rattle tail.” Clone Chulsa spat in disgust from beside Soranth, surprising him. Behind him, not a single sound was heard from the massive army. Fear, the Prince recognised. They’re hearing the sound they’ve been told about in horror stories. He grimaced. Scared soldiers were perfect for bait but not if he wanted to win the fight.

“Chulsa,” he said, turning his head incrementally to whisper in the arthropod’s direction, “tell them to hang back. Valda, Haraldr and I will handle this.”

“Yessir!” A cloud of dust, barely seen in the darkness, was all that was left of the clone.

“Valda, Haraldr,” he continued equally softly, knowing they would hear him regardless. “Same thing as last time.”

There was a breath of silence and for a moment, Soranth could feel the blood pounding in his ears. The loud ba-dump of his heart as adrenaline spiked through his veins and his feet tensed. Then a whistle through the air as Valda finally acted, having reached the position she was aiming for.

All the way from the back, a silver-fletched arrow flew true to the beast’s head but missed by several inches as the hound danced out of the way, snarling as it turned to face the unknown enemy. Then it was Haraldr’s turn as he darted forth from the right where he had positioned himself. He roared loudly, distracting the beast while swinging his favourite sword—Soranth recognised the swaying braid held together by the trophy fang of the Slyrdion hound they had previously killed.

This time, the hound seemed to have predicted his attack. Soranth recognised the way it lifted a corner of its mouth to reveal a blood-stained canine and yelled a warning. “Watch out!”

He jumped into action, pulling the boomerang out from behind him and swinging it at the beast in one smooth motion. The boomerang vibrated through the air, thrumming with anticipation but it was dodged with ease.

The Prince was forced to run for his life towards the left as the beast snapped at his direction, the tips of its razor teeth snagging on one of the protruding daggers at his heels. He almost stumbled, catching himself as Haraldr tossed a random rock he’d picked up and it collided with its snout. Valda’s arrow thudded into the ground at its feet, inching closer to hitting it as the beast grew more and more distracted by all three combatants.

“PINCER!” Soranth yelled desperately as the beast broke into a run, deciding to chase after him. He could almost feel its acrid breath roll over him like a physical wave, not daring to turn in case it slowed him down even by an inch. He could hear Haraldr’s war cry as he charged after them and absolutely nothing from Valda which was to be expected.

However, he did notice their efforts when the Slyrdion hound suddenly skidded to a halt behind him. Soranth slowed down, panting and finally turned around. His Lieutenants had performed admirably, he thought impressed. His shout had been a training strategy they had devised that consisted of baiting plus two people attacking from either side in a pincer-like movement. Of course, he hadn’t expected himself to be the bait.

A string of arrows lined the ground between them, warding the beast off. Haraldr had gone for the rattle tail that everyone feared, slicing it off right at the base. The hound howled uncomprehendingly as it twisted fruitlessly to try and catch sight of its tail. Over the sound of its howling, however, Soranth realised there was a deeper, throbbing noise that he couldn’t quite place. It was only when he noticed the dim stars blink out in the distance that he realised what was happening.

His boomerang was returning.

His boomerang which he had thrown a good few minutes ago in another direction was flying back straight at him. Of course, the beast was standing solidly between the weapon and its owner. The curved blade didn’t seem to take any notice of its size as it sliced right through the hard tendons of its neck, severing the carotid artery. The hilt thumped solidly into Soranth’s instinctively raised hand, spraying him in hot blood.

The twins, the Generals, the entire army and even Clone Chulsa stared at him in shock as the beast swayed and stumbled a few paces before falling into a lifeless heap with a resounding thud. In the silence of their disbelieving awe, a sound echoed that drew chills down Soranth’s spine that wasn’t the result of the quickly cooling blood.

It was a howl.

Haraldr was the first to break the silence as usual. “Don’t tell me this thing has a mother!”

xxx

A Visitor’s Guide to Maraciel — by Royal Adviser Chulsa

I have been informed that it is best I start taking your lessons personally from now on. Today we will uncover more about the weasel-lizard kingdom and what makes them so special.

As you know, they’re very good with their hands. Weasel-lizards are the best tailors in Maraciel, they made the very clothes you wear now. As one would expect from their name, their bodies are like the weasels of old Earth. Their tails however are that of a lizard, giving them exceptional balance but also their ultimate weakness. A weasel-lizard without a tail is a dead weasel-lizard.

Now, despite their peaceful natures, the hybrid society is a strict one. They have a very hierarchical system of clans, with the noble clans of Goldenlake, Amblecrown and Vinesceptre taking the lead. Unfortunately, those at the bottom of the hierarchy don’t tend to do so well, despite our best efforts to stop the discrimination.

When Maraciel started getting busier, they decided to retreat further into the forests and made their home in the far south. Cahethal, and Cahethal Lake by manner of association, is a thriving village but the one thing they treasure is their isolation. The Queen feared that the distance might make them more fanatical but they seem to have mellowed out over time.

Now, the hybrids are unfortunately rather short-lived—their lifespans are only a quarter that of a faun’s and chemycus. In normal human time, I believe this would be considered to be about 10 years long?

What are years?

Ah, fascinating question Valda. Perhaps this is a good time for us to delve into time and how we calculate it.