The shaman was right to call it a pack.
The first dark shape appeared seconds after he spoke. Despite being only about thirty feet away, I could barely see it through the snow and darkness, and I certainly couldn’t make out any details. I’d lost my Keen Sight ability with the loss of my bonded beasts, and I deeply missed it at the moment. Even so, I could tell that the thing was large, the size of a Great Dane or wolfhound but longer, low-bodied with at least four legs. It moved swiftly and smoothly like a predator, and when it paused and uttered a long, mournful howl, I quickly equated it with a very large wolf of some sort. Another of the creatures appeared in the shadows, both beasts hanging back out of clear vision, prowling at the very edge of sight without coming close enough for us to make out details.
“Do you recognize them?” I asked quietly, holding my spear low and probably inexpertly pointed at the animals.
“Yes. An ishvarn pack.” Aeld’s voice was even but tight as he spoke. “Possibly a large one. Six or seven, I’d say.”
As I thought, the description meant nothing to me, but I mentally associated them with wolves, just as I mentally termed the stornbyor a bear. I didn’t know these things, but I did know a little about wolves, and I’d learned a lot more about predators from Renica and Sheriff Ramka.
“Do you think they’ll attack?” I asked after a moment’s thought. “They don’t seem to be in a hurry to.”
As I spoke, one of the hunters—the largest of them, in fact—stepped up beside Aeld and I, holding his spear much more competently than I was. The hunter stood nearly a foot taller than me and was significantly wider, as well. His fur had more gray mottling it than the rest of the hunters, which I guessed could have meant that he was older than they were. The guttural growl of his voice, harsher and more gravelly than Aeld’s, reinforced that guess.
“If they weren’t going to attack, young one, we never would have seen them. Ishvarn packs usually avoid menskallin—we aren’t their normal prey, after all. This one must be starving.”
“That, or they’re protecting their territory,” I pointed out. “If we keep moving, they might let us be.”
“Ishvarn are nomadic. They only claim territories during the whelping season, which is at the time of The Crawl, a full Passage ago. Now, the pack should be following their prey south, out of the heights in preparation for the Darkness.” He glanced at Aeld. “Letharvis, this…”
“Would you have Freyd trying to build the shelter, Bregg?” the shaman cut the hunter off gently but firmly. The hunter and shaman shared a long look that lasted for a few seconds before the larger man grunted and looked away.
“He’s not of the valskab, Letharvis.”
“He’s earned…” Aeld fell silent as a series of howls tore the evening air, drawing everyone’s focus back to the pack. As I turned, a sudden flicker of movement caught my eye, and I spun and struck reflexively. Months, possibly years—I really wasn’t sure exactly how long I’d been in the Doorverse at that point—of battle with things faster and stronger than me had honed those reflexes, and I attacked without thinking. Unfortunately, I also attacked as if I still held an axe or sword, sweeping my spear in a wide arc. The clumsy sweep still worked; the spear’s shaft slammed into the side of something large and dark springing at me, knocking it sideways. The thing yelped as my blow slammed it into a large rock with a muffled thump, but it scrambled back to its feet and rushed forward.
I got a good look at the creature as it charged, along with the two others just behind it. The thing did vaguely resemble a wolf, with a long muzzle and round, ruffed head, but it clearly wasn’t. Its jaw was larger and wider than a wolf’s to accommodate its longer, serrated teeth. Its eyes were small and beady, practically buried beneath its heavy, charcoal fur. Its coat looked to be several inches thick, fluffy, and had an oily sheen to it that I guessed meant it was waterproof—probably useful in a land of ice and snow—and its feet were broad and well padded, again probably handy to running in snow without sinking into it.
The wolf lunged at me again, and this time, I got my spear up in between myself and it, intending to let it impale itself on the weapon. Before I could, another spear darted out and slammed into it, piercing its neck below the jaw. It scrambled back, snapping at the spearhead as if trying to yank it from the hand of the large hunter who’d moved up beside me, but he slid the spear fluidly out of the way and slid it forward again, this time stabbing at a second wolf.
“Thrust, Hemskal,” he growled at me. “Like this!” His spear darted out once more, drawing another line of blood from one of the wolves.
“Hemskal means…” Sara paused. “Well, it isn’t very nice, John. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I ignored her explanation and the man’s insult as I took his advice, thrusting awkwardly at the closest wolf. Sadly, the thing was a lot nimbler than the bear had been, and it dodged my first clumsy thrust, staying out of my reach. It snapped and snarled at me, but I caught another flash of movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see another of the wolves rushing at my flank, bounding through the snow. It leaped at me, and I once again swept the spear sideways like an axe, batting the creature aside. The blow carried it off the path and onto the icy mountain slope, and it yelped in a disturbingly canine fashion as it slammed into a rock outcropping and tumbled for several feet before catching itself.
An orange flare lit the darkness to my left, and I glanced over to see that the first wolves we’d seen had charged while my attention was diverted by the others. One of those still loped forward, but bright flames licked the fur of the other, and it rolled about in the snow, snarling and yelping as it tried to extinguish the flames. The other didn’t even hesitate as it raced past its burning comrade and leaped, but another surge of energy rolled out of Aeld, and the animal’s flight slowed as if the air around it had thickened into jelly. It hung, twisting and writhing as it sank slowly toward the ground, no longer moving forward. It seemed that the shaman had things well in hand on his side.
I, on the other hand, didn’t. I turned back to see the large hunter dealing with two of the wolves, leaving one for me. That one sprang toward me, and while I swept my spear across to knock it aside, it landed easily, twisted, and darted forward before I could recover. Pain flared in my right leg as the thing’s fangs sank into me, and I jerked back reflexively. Its serrated teeth hung up in my flesh, though, and the wolf dug its four paws into the ice, locking my leg securely in place. I growled and lifted my spear, shifting the tip to point downward, but before I could strike, another wolf hit me from the side, staggering me as its fangs sank into my arm. I almost fell and only held my balance by jamming the spear into the ground and using it like a crutch.
That was fine because honestly, the weapon wasn’t helping me all that much. I gripped it with my free hand, using it to stabilize myself, then lashed out with my free leg, kicking at the wolf gripping my calf. My heavy, shaggy foot crashed into the thing’s ribcage with a loud crack, and it yelped as the blow tore it free of my leg. With both legs free, I regained my balance and let go of the spear, then reached over and jammed my furry thumb into the eye of the wolf gripping my arm. That one whined as it released my forearm and fell away, one eye ruined. The wolf I’d kicked darted in again, but this time I was ready, and I slipped sideways and swept a low roundhouse kick at it that lifted it into the air and flung it down the mountain slope. The maimed one snarled and sprang at me, but I swatted it from the air with a backfist.
“Pick up your weapon, Hemskal!” the hunter almost shouted, but I ignored him. Instead, I dropped into a fighting crouch and forgot about the spear. Against the huge, solitary bear, I’d done all right with the weapon, but against the numerous, nimble wolves, it was more of a hindrance than a help. The wolves scrambled back to their feet and rushed me, but I was ready for their attack. I batted one aside with a fist, then kicked the other in the head, pulling my foot back before it could snap at me. My wounds dripped red blood that stained my fur and the snow, but I had plenty of practice ignoring injuries, and they didn’t slow me in the slightest as I grabbed one wolf by the ruff on the back of its neck and flung it into the other, bowling them both over. A third creature charged at my back, but I slipped out of its way and kicked out its back legs, then smashed a fist into its skull while it scrambled to recover.
I was actually starting to enjoy the fight a bit. The wolves were quick, but as I became used to my new body, I was faster and much stronger. They had numbers and pack tactics, but I had skill, training, and intellect on my side, and I used those to tumble them into one another and disrupt their strategies. My heavy fur seemed to offer some protection from the creatures’ fangs, and while their coats also softened the impacts of my blows, they picked up numerous small fractures, bruises, and deeper injuries that slowed and crippled them. By the time a fourth wolf leaped at me, I was barely working to hold off the first three, and I simply grabbed its ruff and slammed it into the rockface with a loud crack of breaking bone. A fist shattered the skull of another, and a heavy kick crushed the ribcage of a third. I caught the last as it rushed me, grabbing it by the back of its neck and the heavy coat near its tail. I spun once like an Olympic hammer thrower—well, probably more like a freshman in high school who’d barely done it before—and flung the last one far down the mountain slope out of my sight.
I took a deep breath and glanced down to examine my wounds, but as I did, something larger and heavier than the wolves crashed into me. Caught off-guard, I fell, but I managed to grab the sides of my attacker’s head, burying my fingers in its thick fur to keep its fangs off me. The creature looked similar to the wolves but was larger, with utterly black fur. It snapped and snarled, its paws scrabbling against me as it drove forward, trying to reach my face, but I held it back and lashed up with a knee, slamming a blow into the thing’s side and twisting at the same time. The new animal was heavier than the wolves, but I still managed to roll it over onto its back, ending up astride the beast. Its claws slid along my fur, leaving small, stinging lines where my leather armor didn’t cover me but not seeming to draw more blood, and while it snapped at me and writhed furiously, it couldn’t get out from under me.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I slammed the thing’s skull into the ice, but the snow covering it and its fur muted the impact. At the moment, I longed for a knife, a hatchet, any small weapon, but all I had were my hands. I let go of the wolf’s head with one hand and lunged forward, slamming my forearm against its throat and leaning my weight on it, trying to choke it out or even crush its windpipe. It thrashed and squirmed, but I held it tight and increased the pressure. Something crumpled beneath my arm, and the wolf coughed, sending out a spray of blood that splattered my fur, mingling with my own blood there—and suddenly, I felt myself rising into the air as the world grew quiet all around me.
I glanced around, confused, concerned, and ready to strike at whoever was lifting me off the doomed wolf. The world seemed strangely muffled and muted; the snow fell in slow motion around me, barely drifting toward the ground, and the wind seemed to have stopped entirely. An odd silver haze filled the air like mist, but the growing darkness no longer seemed to impede my vision, so despite the haze I could see clearly in every direction. Colorful shapes filled the landscape in every direction, mostly amorphous blobs of various sizes and hues. A massive metallic gray shape wrapped around the entire mountain, still and inert. Small blue-white shapes hovered near or filled the wolves I’d killed or wounded. A translucent, white cloud hovered far above me in the sky, and several more floated in the air within my vision.
The large hunter stood behind me, surrounded by the bodies of three of the wolves. He’d apparently stood back and watched as I dealt with the rest, and I felt a minor flash of irritation; if he’d stepped in to help, fighting them would have been a lot easier. A flash of color caught my eyes, and I peered more closely at the hunter as something gray rippled beneath his fur. The amorphous shape vanished, but another appeared a moment later, this one dark crimson. The shapes seemed to cling to his fur and moved erratically in and out of his body, appearing for a moment on his skin before plunging back beneath it and out of sight.
I glanced at Aeld, assuming that he’d used some magic on me, and winced at the brilliant display that emanated from the man. A half-dozen shapes swirled within and around his body, blobs of deep red, bright blue, pure white, and more. Some of them writhed beneath his skin like I saw in the hunter; the rest, though, hovered about him, seemingly held in place by tiny threads of power. His staff, though, truly took my breath away, as it blazed with a prismatic light as bright as the sun. A line of rainbow-hued power as thick as my arm stretched from the staff into the distance, vanishing beyond the horizon, and I got the feeling that the staff wasn’t the source of that energy. It was a receptacle, a channel for it, nothing more.
A growl echoed behind me, and I spun to see a large, lupine shape floating in the air maybe ten feet from me. The shape was larger than me and pulsed with a mottling of crimson and forest green light that was both disturbing and oddly compelling. The shape seemed to tense itself, and a wave of icy fear swept over me, sapping my strength. The wolf loomed in my sight, its presence dominating my vision, and panic surged deep in me, urging me to flee, to turn my back and run as fast as I could.
I pushed the fear aside almost by instinct. Fear was a fairly constant companion. I’d walked with it pretty much every day of my old life, and we’d grown even closer since I entered the Doorverse. Only an idiot or a fool wouldn’t have been terrified by some of the things I’d seen, and I didn’t think I was either of those. I shoved down the panic and straightened, facing the wolf and preparing to fight it. Compared to half the things I’d faced already, the creature was little more than an annoyance, not a threat.
It rushed toward me, and I moved forward to meet it. I felt its killing intent and met it with my own. Its teeth snapped, but I batted them aside and struck at it with fists and feet. Its presence washed over me, trying to fill me with fear, but I pushed the emotion aside. It wanted me to be its prey, but I was a predator like it—no, I was the greater predator. I’d hunted and killed things it would have fled from; I’d slaughtered more predators than it had probably ever seen. I wasn’t its peer; I was its better.
The wolf seemed to shrink in on itself as a growl rose unbidden from my throat. I swarmed over it, overwhelming it with blows. It snapped and snarled, but now it seemed like it tried to escape rather than kill. It was prey, my prey, and it knew it. It steadily diminished as I drove it back, finally grabbing it by the throat and holding it at arm’s length. The wolf wasn’t much larger than a fox at that point, and it whimpered as I squeezed its throat.
“I yield! I yield!”
The voice in my mind almost startled me enough to make me drop the wolf, but I managed to hold my grip. “Sara, is that you?”
“No, John,” she replied quietly. “It’s the ishvarn. The wolf.”
I stared at the creature and for the first time saw the burning intelligence in its eyes. It wasn’t just a beast; it was aware somehow.
“You—you yield?” I echoed numbly, unsure what was happening.
“Yes! I yield! You are greater hunter, and I submit.”
Part of me reveled in its words. It was right—I was the greater hunter—and its submission felt…proper. I shook that feeling off, though.
“What will you do if I release you?” I asked it.
“I will die,” it said simply. “I die now.” It seemed to hesitate. “Unless bond.”
“Bond?” I repeated, flashing back to Puraschim and my bonded pets.
“Bond with greater hunter. Then live, hunt with you, new pack. More together. We bond?”
“Sara, do you know what it’s talking about?” I asked the AI silently. “Is this like a pet bond in Puraschim?”
“I don’t know, John. It does seem to think that if it bonds to you, it’ll live, so it’s possible—but I think it’s something different. I think this is a bond of spirit, not mind or body.”
“Spirit? You mean, it’ll bond to my soul?”
“No, your spirit. It’s different. Your soul is the one thing that carries from Doorworld to Doorworld, the essence of you. Your spirit is more like your life force, the power that animates your body in each world.”
“So, if I agree, could it hurt me? Kill me?”
“No,” she said firmly. “If it could harm your spirit, it already would have. Your spirit already overcame its during the spiritual battle. It’s no danger to you.”
“Wait, what kind of battle?” A shock of surprise ran through me at her words.
“Look down, John.”
I did and gaped at what I saw. There, below, I knelt atop the wolf, my elbow in its throat, the bloody spray of its cough still hanging in midair as it rested below me. I looked at myself and realized that my body was as hazy and amorphous as everything around me, a shape that looked more human than sasquatch and flickered a dark gray that was almost black. My form looked far more solid than the wolf’s, though, heavier and denser somehow.
“I’m a spirit? Wait, did I die?” Panic rose up in me at that thought. I had a pretty good idea the kind of place I was going when I died, and I wasn’t excited at the prospect.
“No, John,” Sara said quickly, her voice soothing. “You’re alive. You’re just fighting in spirit, outside your body. This is somehow part of this world’s magic; I can feel the energy field keeping you separate from but connected to your body, and it comes from the world itself.”
I calmed down quickly, then looked at the cringing wolf. I didn’t really like the idea of bonding something to my spirit, but then, I’d been fine bonding things to me in Puraschim. This couldn’t be that different, I suppose. And if Sara said it was safe…
“Yes,” I finally told the wolf. “We can bond.”
The wolf’s body suddenly turned into an amorphous blob, and my fingers closed as its from stopped resisting them. Icy cold wrapped around my hand and wrist, and my palm burned as I felt something seeping into it, pushing its way through my skin and into the veins beneath. I cried out and shook my hand, trying to dislodge the creature, but its shape clung to me like glue, and when I tried to push it off using the other hand, my fingers passed through it like mist. The icy cold sank into my veins as the blob around my hand shrank—vanishing inside me!—and I felt it flow up my arm, down my shoulder, and sink down past my heart into the pit of my stomach. It settled there, a weight I could feel, and that part of my stomach glowed with a dull crimson and green light.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, I felt myself plunge back downward, and I gasped as I sank back into my body. The pain I hadn’t even realized I’d stopped feeling slammed into me, and I hissed at the fire stabbing into my arm and leg. My body felt heavy and clunky compared to what it just had, and the world around me looked oddly dull and dark as darkness shadowed my vision once more. I looked down at the wolf beneath me, but it lay quiet and motionless, its eyes blank and unseeing. Its sides heaved once, twice, then fell still as it shuddered into death. As it did, a notification began blinking in my vision, and I quickly pulled it up.
Spirit Bonding: You have bonded a Predator Spirit!
Spirit Rank: 3.2
Spiritual Power: 28
Spirit Type: Hunt
Benefits: Perception +3, Vigor +2, Skill +1, Enhanced Senses
Ability Gained: Enhanced Senses
Passive Ability
Your sight, hearing, and sense of smell are increased by 50%.
As I read the notification, I felt the energy of the spirit rise from my stomach and spread out to fill my body. The pain of my wounds lessened slightly, and my muscles felt surer and nimbler. My awareness, though, changed the most: the musky scent of the wolf beneath me seemed suddenly overpowering; the darkness shrouding my vision lightened to grayness; the sounds of Aeld and the hunters all around me echoed in my ears. My head reeled for a few seconds as I adjusted to the increased input, but fortunately, I’d gotten somewhat used to having excellent senses in Puraschim, so I adapted quickly.
I rose unsteadily to my feet, my arm and leg burning, my skin stinging from dozens of tiny scratches all over it, and my head swimming from the increased sensory input. I looked around and realized the rest of the hunting party had joined us. The remaining wolves were either dead or had fled, I didn’t know which. The hunters stood, watching me in silence, their spears resting on the ground. I glanced toward Aeld, who stared at me, his gaze cautious and somehow appraising. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed that something had shaken the shaman, and his entire demeanor radiated uncertainty.
After a moment, though, he straightened and glanced past me toward the largest hunter. That one snorted in what I thought was contempt but looked at the rest of the party in turn. They all turned away silently and walked back down the path toward the cave, leaving the large hunter and Aeld alone with me. Aeld stepped closer to me—but not close enough to be in arm’s reach. My spear, I realized, still stood in the snow a few feet away, leaving me weaponless, but nothing in Aeld’s posture or body language radiated threat. The man watched me quietly for several moments before seeming to steel himself to speak.
“I’m not good with words, Freyd,” he said in his rumbling voice. “Letharvisa are supposed to be, I know, but I’m not, so I beg your pardon if my words offend, but—who and what are you?”