It was a woman, Nienna realised, and this, somehow, made the cankers a thousand times worse. One thing to be a monster; but to be a monster created from a human shell? To think that through a series of twisted decisions, of incorrect choices, of random bad luck, one could end up…like that?
“Gods,” she hissed, and the canker tilted its head, focusing on her and Kat as if for the first time. Its tiny gold-flecked eyes narrowed, and raising its head, it bellowed up into the dark night forest in something akin to pain…
Not waiting to see if it attacked, Nienna and Kat turned and ran, sprinting as fast as they could, tearing down forest lanes and leaping fallen trunks, ducking under thick branches, as all around the snow continued to pepper the forest innards and the cold stillness invaded them, their bodies and their minds, threatening with icy chill…
Breaking branches told them they were being pursued. Nienna glanced back to see the canker wedge between two boles of trees that must have been a hundred years old apiece; it roared again, a terrifying squealing bass sound that echoed off through the forest, through the trees which swayed high up as if in hissing appreciation of the gladiatorial hunt taking place within.
With a grunt, and the cracking of wood, the canker broke through the trees. They fell, toppling from high above, crashing through branches and other smaller trees and bringing a whole mass of forest down in a howling crunching terrifying clump.
Nienna and Kat were running, pine needles peppering their hair from above as trees fell and whipped. The canker howled again, and continued to crash after them, clumsy in its passion.
“Thick woods,” panted Nienna, face streaked with sweat and covered by numerous tiny scratches.
“What?”
“Head for thick woods; the trees will stop the canker. Slow it down!”
Kat nodded, and they veered left. The canker altered its course, crashing and smashing, thumping and tearing its way through the forest like a whirlwind. Soon, the trees grew more closely placed, but this plan didn’t work as well as Nienna and Kat anticipated; for one thing, the more dense sections of forest were the younger sections of forest. The older, thicker trunks were more widely spaced; they had conquered their territory, their particular arena of forest floor, and at their bases where little sunlight reached were simple carpets of pine and discarded branches. Here, now, in the midst of entanglements was where new trees fought for supremacy, for height, for sunlight, and Nienna realised with a pang of horror that the canker ploughed through such trees with ease. There was no halting it…
“I’ve got to stop!” wailed Kat.
“What is it?”
“My feet, they’re cut to ribbons!”
Darkness poured into the thick forest, like from a jug. That was the second downside, Nienna realised, acknowledging her own error of judgement with a sour grimace. The thicker the woods, the more dark and terrifyingly cloying it was. With bigger trees, at least some light, and snow, crept through. Here it was just icy and dark, with little ambient light
Kat stopped, and Nienna stopped beside her. They stood still, listening to the canker falter, and halt; a bellow rent the air, and they heard the deformed beast sniffing.
“Maybe it won’t see us,” said Kat, voice trembling. She shuffled closer to Nienna, and they held each other in the caliginous interior. They could not even make out one another’s faces.
“Yes.”
The canker, snuffling and grunting, came closer. Now they could hear the tiny, metallic undercurrent of vachine noise; the click of gears, the whistle of piston, the spinning of cogs.
“What the hell is it?” said Kat.
“Shh.”
Even now, it came closer, and closer, and both girls held in screams and prayed, prayed for a miracle as their feet bled and they shivered, sweat turning to ice on their trembling flesh…
Something huge moved above them and Nienna felt a great presence in the trees, as if a giant stalked the forest and the canker growled, screamed, and leapt, and there were sounds of scuffling, of claws scrabbling wood and jaws clashing with metallic crunches and then a mammoth, deafening, final thud. The forest shook, as if by a giant’s fist.
Silence curled like smoke.
Nienna and Kat, both trembling, looked at one another.
What happened?
To the canker, but also…out there?
There came a series of sudden hisses, and clanks, and then silence again. Whatever had happened to the canker it had been immediate, and final. Some giant predator? A bear, maybe? Nienna shook her head at her internal monologue. No. A bear couldn’t have killed the-thing-that pursued them. So what, then?
“Come on, let’s move,” whispered Kat.
Something huge and terrible reared above them in the darkness, smashing branches and whole trunks in its ascent and making Kat scream out loud, all sense of self-preservation vanished as primeval terror took over and the dark shadow reared above, and roared, suddenly, violently, a deep and massive bass roar without the twisted undercurrents of the canker…
“I know where we are,” hissed Nienna, clutching Kat in the shade.
“Where?” she wept.
“Stone Lion Woods,” whispered Nienna, her mind filled with horror.
“I’m telling you,” said Saark, “it’s crazy to head out into the snow!”
“Well, I’m going, aren’t I.”
Kell opened the door, and stepped out into the storm. It had lessened now, and small flakes tumbled turning the forest clearing into a haze. Kell’s eyes swept the dark trees.
“Get your sword.”
Saark reappeared in his damp clothes, grumbling, and stood beside the immobile form of Kell in the snow. “What’s the matter now, you old goat? Forgot your gold teeth? Left your hernia cushion? Maybe you need a good hard shit?”
Kell turned on him, eyes wide, flared in anger. “Shut up, idiot! There’s something in the trees.”
Saark was about to offer further sarcastic comment, but then he, too, sensed more than heard the movement. He turned his back on the small hut and faced the trees, rapier lifting, eyes narrowing.
Kell drew his Svian from under his arm, and cursed the loss of his axe. He felt it deeply; not just because it was a weapon, and he needed such a weapon now. But because the axe was…his. Ilanna. His.
“Hell’s teeth,” muttered Saark, as the albino soldiers edged carefully from the trees, gliding like pale ghosts, their armour shining in shafts of moonlight tumbling between snow-clouds.
“I count ten,” said Kell, delicately.
“Eight,” said Saark.
“Two archers, just inside the trees, off to the right.”
“By the gods, you have good eyesight! I see them!”
“Horse-shit. I wish I had my axe.”
“I wish I had a fast horse.”
“Very heroic.”
“Not much use for dead heroes in these parts.”
The albino soldiers spread out, crimson eyes locked on the two men. Kell stepped away from Saark, mind settling into a zone for combat; and yet, deep down, Kell knew he would have struggled even with his axe. With a long knife? Even one as deadly as the Svian? And with his bad knees, and cracked ribs, and god only knew what other arthritic agonies were waiting to trip him up?
He grimaced, without humour. Damn. It wasn’t looking good.
“Drop your weapons,” said the albino lieutenant.
“Kiss my arse,” snarled Kell.
“Superb: weaponless and an idiot,” said Saark, eyes fixed on the soldiers.
“You can always run back through the woods and jump in the river.”
“Now that is a good idea.”
