him scream. It was tasting him.
He needed every bit of mental resolve to resist the urge to pull away, or gag, and the thing’s face was so close, it must have been nearly pressing its short flat nose up against his own. He couldn’t help it — he was going to have to open his eyes, going to have to see what it was doing…
‘Disgusting vermin of the night — cowards, backstabbers, unblinkers, disease carriers.’ It was Eilif, and Arn knew what she was doing.
The hot, greasy breath swung away from him. The Panterran leaned over Eilif, and drew from its robe a wicked-looking dagger. It whispered something into her ear; then, finding a place on Eilif’s shoulder where the armour had been torn open, it dragged the blade across her furred flesh.
Eilif grunted from the pain, but didn’t cry out. Instead, she spoke as evenly as she could manage. ‘Mighty warrior… but only when I am bound.’
Arn knew she was drawing the Panterran’s attention away from him, and continued to saw at his bonds until he felt the coarse threads part and fall away. He considered his options — he could reach across and saw through the ropes binding his other wrist, but the chance of his being detected was high with the Panterran so close. And with his feet still bound, it would only have to step back, and he’d end up a sitting duck — a trussed and sitting duck.
He looked down to his side; the old sorcerer’s heavy water jug and bowl were still there, on the bench — within reach.
Eilif saw that Arn had released one of his hands, and she spoke again to her tormentor, the scorn heavy in her young voice. ‘Be warned, vermin — Fenrir sees all cowardly acts.’
The Panterran hissed back at her, ‘Then Fenrir can watch while the Canites are wiped from the face of the Earth… beginning with you.’ It laughed cruelly, and then sniffed at her. ‘Your very stink makes me unwell.’ It lifted its blade again, this time to Eilif’s face.
‘Perhaps Fenrir sees, but soon you will not.’ He brought the dagger close to one of Eilif’s ice blue eyes, but she refused to blink or look away. Instead, she smiled.
Arn swung the heavy jug down onto the creature’s head. The Panterran fell heavily, and Arn was momentarily confused; he didn’t think he hit it that hard, or that these creatures were so fragile. But its crushed skull was evidence enough of the force he had used.
Eilif spoke quickly, ‘Hurry, Man-kind; time now is against us.’
Arn finished cutting himself free, then stepped down to quickly rummage through his torn clothing and pull on his mangled jeans. Only one leg remained intact; the other had been ripped off at the knee. His shoes were gone.
He looked at Eilif and hesitated.
‘Can I trust you?’
The Wolfen held Arn’s gaze for a second before responding, ‘Always.’
Arn cut through her bonds, and she immediately fell forward into his arms. He helped her to stand. She was lighter than he expected, even though she was still partially dressed in her armour.
‘Can you walk?’
‘Not far. I have lost much blood, and have no strength. I need to find some feninlang leaves — they’ll help to numb the pain, and give me enough energy to travel. Once we get back to one of our outposts, they can treat my injuries properly.’
Arn held the Wolfen upright, and placed one of her arms over his own shoulder. ‘Let’s go… Ahh, which way?’
Eilif pointed with her long nose. ‘East, and fast away from this Slinker encampment.’ She groaned as they started off.
Arn could smell cinnamon again as she slumped against him.
‘Man-kind, if they come, you must promise to leave me. You must get to Valkeryn to tell the king that the Slinkers are near our lands. This unholy alliance they have with the giants… We must be ready for them.’
Arn spoke quietly to the Wolfen without meeting her eye. ‘Not a chance — no one is going to be left behind today.’
He felt her relax slightly. ‘Yes — the Man-kind were said to be honourable. I still don’t know your name. What are you called?’
‘I’m called… I mean, I am Arnold Singer — Arn, to my friends.’
She nodded, as though expecting this. ‘Of course; the Arnoddr-Sigarr — your name means Bringer of victory.’
No wonder the Panterran became excited at hearing my name, he thought. He looked down at her. ‘Quiet now. Show me where this feninlang grows, and then let’s put as much distance between us and these creatures as we can.’
‘To the river, and then home, Arnoddr-Sigarr.’
‘Arn, please call me Arn.’
‘It would be my honour, Arn.’ She gritted her teeth.
Arn felt something warm running down his side, and knew it was the young Wolfen’s blood. The thought crossed his mind that he should check the wound, but seeing he had no real idea of first-aid for himself let alone for a hundred pound wolf-girl, he decided that they should keep moving.
Eilif’s head fell forward, and he spoke to keep her conscious. ‘What does this plant look like?’
‘It grows on the banks of rivers. Some call it the blood-star flower. Its fat leaves are what we seek.’
Arn nodded. ‘I know it.’
Eilif looked at him wearily. ‘Of course you do. This is your world, after all.’ She collapsed against him, and he lifted her in his arms and ran on, hoping he found the river soon.
Chapter 10
A Daemon on Earth
Twilight had caught up with them.
Arn easily found the river, and left Eilif leaning against a large rock, still warm from the late afternoon sun. Blood-star flowers lined the water’s edge, and he pulled free several of the fat juicy leaves. He looked up the bank to the girl… He shook his head. He was starting to think of her as a normal girl, yet she was as strange to him as he probably was to her. She half dozed and her breath now fell in a shallow wheeze. He looked at the small pile of leaves in his hand, wondering if she would be able to tell him how to administer them — was she supposed to rub them on? Swallow them? Burn them and then inhale the smoke? He had no choice; he’d have to try to rouse her.
Arn was making his way back up the bank with a handful of leaves, when he noticed that Eilif was covered in the small, carnivorous yellow butterflies — they were fighting over her wounds. Disgusted, he ran forward kicking and swatting at them.
‘Get outta here!’
They floated upwards in a yellow cloud, content to hover overhead — waiting. It seemed that the smell of blood attracted them like a school of gossamer-winged piranha.
Arn knelt beside Eilif. She was very still. Arn was thirsty, so he guessed she must have been severely dehydrated, given the amount of blood she had lost. He placed the leaves on the ground next to her, glanced up at the hovering butterflies, and then raced back down to the stream. He scooped some water into his hands, and ran back up the bank. Her nostrils twitched as he approached, and her eyes opened slightly. Arn had expected a long tongue to dart from her mouth, and for her to start lapping at the water. Instead, she reached out to grab his hands and guided them to her mouth, sipping the water daintily. Swallowing, she gave a soft croak of thanks, and then lay back.
Arn leaned forward. ‘I have the leaves — what should I do?’
Eilif lifted a hand, palm open, and Arn dropped some of the leaves into it. He noticed that a few of the butterflies were once again starting to flutter close to her head, and he swatted them. Looking at their broken
