over it. Then he rose to his feet, and stood statue still. Time to climb your tree, I think,’ he said softly. Rabalyn scrambled to his feet. ‘That one there,’ said the axeman, pointing to a tall oak close by. ‘Do it now!’
Rabalyn ran to the tree and leapt for the lowest branch, hauling himself up. He climbed to a fork and sat down, staring back at the campfire. The axeman was still standing quietly, his axe in his hands. Rabalyn scanned the area. He could see nothing, save moonlit undergrowth and trees. Then a shadowy figure flitted across his line of vision. He tried to focus on it, but there was nothing to be seen. Another shape moved to the right.
Rabalyn found himself trembling. What if they could climb?
He felt ashamed of himself. One old man was about to face these creatures, while he hid in a tree. Rabalyn found himself wishing he had a weapon, so he could aid the axeman. Down below he saw the man lift the axe above his head and slowly stretch from side to side, loosening his muscles.
For a while nothing moved. Rabalyn became aware of his heart thumping like a drum. He felt a little dizzy and clung on tight to the branch. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, and darkness fell over much of the clearing. Rabalyn could just make out the axeman, by the glint of reflected flames on his axe and helm. He heard the snapping of branches, then a feral growl. A black shadow fell across the axeman, and Rabalyn could see nothing for a moment. A strangled cry sounded.
Something tumbled across the fire, scattering sparks. Now it was even darker. Rabalyn could hear something moving through the undergrowth, its breathing harsh.
The moon emerged, bright silver light bathing the clearing. The axeman still stood. Across the fire lay the body of a huge beast. Smoke wreathed it, and Rabalyn caught the smell of charred fur and flesh. Another beast leapt over a fallen tree, hurling itself at the axeman. He spun on his heel, the axe thudding into the creature’s massive neck. As the beast half fell the axeman wrenched his weapon clear and struck again. The axe blades crunched through the creature’s shoulder, biting deep. Two more beasts ran in. Tearing his axe clear the axeman turned to face them. They backed away, circling him. One rushed forward, then sprang away as the axe rose.
The second darted in, but also swerved aside at the last moment. Rabalyn saw one of them look up at the sky. The boy followed its gaze. More clouds were looming, and he realized the creatures were waiting for darkness.
The axeman leapt at the first beast. It sprang away. Rabalyn wished there was something he could do to help the man. Then it came to him. He could distract them. Taking a deep breath he shouted at the top of his voice. Startled, one of the creatures half turned. The axeman charged in, his weapon cleaving through the beast’s ribcage. It screamed and fell back, tearing the weapon from the man’s hand. The second creature sprang through the air. The axeman spun and hammered a right cross into its jaws. The weight of the beast bore the axeman back, and they fell together, rolling across the clearing. Rabalyn scrambled down the tree and jumped from the lowest branch. He ran to the body in which the axe was embedded and grabbed the haft with both hands, trying to pull it free.
The beast was not dead. Its golden eyes flared open and it roared.
Rabalyn threw his full weight back. The axe wrenched clear. The beast gave an ear-splitting scream. It half rose, then slumped back, blood pumping from the great wound in its chest. The axe was heavier than Rabalyn had imagined. Struggling with it, he hefted it to his shoulder and stumbled to where the axeman was wrestling with the last creature. The old man’s helm had been knocked from his head, and blood was flowing from a gash in his temple. His left hand was locked to the creature’s throat, straining to hold the snapping fangs from his face. His right was gripping the left wrist of the monster.
Holding the axe in both hands Rabalyn raised it high. It tipped backwards, almost making him lose balance. Righting himself, he hacked the axe downwards. It thudded into the beast’s back between the shoulder blades. A hideous screech came from the creature. It arched up, dragging the axeman with it. Releasing the beast’s wrist the axeman thundered a punch to its head. Behind the creature Rabalyn grabbed for the axe haft, trying to tear it clear. The beast spun. Its taloned arm lashed out, striking Rabalyn in the chest and sending him hurtling through the air. He landed heavily. Half stunned, he struggled to his knees. The old warrior had his axe once more in his hand. The beast backed away, then turned and fled into the trees.
The warrior watched it go, then walked over to Rabalyn. ‘My, but you are a game lad,’ he said. Reaching out, he hauled Rabalyn to his feet.
‘You killed three of them,’ said Rabalyn. ‘It was incredible.’
‘I’m getting old,’ replied the axeman, with a grin. ‘Was a time when I wouldn’t have needed my axe to deal with such puppies.’
‘Truly?’ asked Rabalyn, amazed.
‘No, laddie, I was making a joke. Never was much good at jokes.’ He lifted his helm, wiped his hand around the rim, then settled it back on his head. A low snarl sounded from one of the bodies. The axeman walked back to the creature. Its legs were twitching. The axe swept up, then down into its neck. All movement ceased. Returning to Rabalyn, the axeman thrust out his hand. ‘I am Druss. I thank you for your help. I was beginning to struggle a mite with that last one.’
‘It was my pleasure, sir,’ answered Rabalyn, feeling proud as he shook the old man’s hand.
‘Now I want you to climb that tree again.’
‘Are there more of them?’
‘I don’t know. But I need to leave you here for a short while. Don’t worry.
I’ll be back.’
Rabalyn climbed to the original fork and settled down. His fears returned once Druss had left the clearing. What if the man left him here?
He banished the thought instantly. He did not know the axeman well, but he instinctively knew he would not lie about coming back.
Time passed, and the sky cleared. Wedged against the fork in the branches Rabalyn dozed a little. He awoke to the smell of roasting meat.
Down in the campsite the axeman had hauled the dead beasts from the clearing and had rekindled the fire. He was sitting before it, a thick strip of flesh held on a stick before the flames. Rabalyn climbed down to join him. The aroma of the food made his senses swim. He squatted down beside the axeman. Then a thought struck him. ‘This is not from those creatures, is it?’ he asked.
‘No. Though were I hungry enough I’d try to cook them. Smells good, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘From the dead horse.’
‘My horse?’ asked Rabalyn, horrified.
‘There’s only one dead horse, boy.’
‘I can’t eat my horse.’
The axeman turned to look at him. ‘It’s just meat.’ He sighed, then chuckled. ‘I know what Sieben would say. He’d tell you that your horse is now running in another place. He’d say the sky is blue there, and the horse is galloping across a field of green. All that’s left behind is the cloak it wore.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘That horse carried you from danger — even after it was mortally wounded. In some cultures they believe that to eat the flesh of a great beast is to absorb some of its qualities into yourself.’
‘And do you believe
The axeman shrugged. ‘I believe I am hungry, and that what I don’t eat the foxes will devour, and the maggots will thrive on. It’s up to you, Rabalyn. Eat. Don’t eat. I’m not going to force you.’
‘Maybe your friend was right. Maybe he is running in another world.’
‘Maybe.’
‘I think I’ll eat,’ said Rabalyn.
‘Hold on to this for a moment,’ said Druss, handing Rabalyn the toasting stick. Then he rose and took his axe to a nearby tree. With two swift chops he cut away sections of bark, which he carried back. ‘They’ll make do for plates,’ he said.
Later, after they had eaten, Rabalyn stretched out on the ground. He felt almost light-headed, as if in a dream. His stomach was full. He had helped defeat monsters, and he was sitting by a fire in the moonlight with a
