Cry For War

Chapter Sixteen

Veronica shuddered at the intense expression upon Ephraim's face, the way his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. It didn't take a genius to assume that whatever beast had injured his retainer had hit him on a personal chord. Was it that much like herself, he had a relationship with his right hand the way she once had? In a moment like this, Veronica could only reflect upon the loss of her dear Xander, the unjust punishment that he had received for merely trying to help her escape this personal hell. As much as this ate away at the very core of her being, Veronica had no choice but to accept it, even if otherwise she had no clue what to do with this immense grief. It was for the sake of her friends and that was reason enough for her to hold her tongue.

As the king brandished his lance, he felt that same desire to fight grow within himself. Ephraim had pushed it down long enough, and seeing Seth wounded was all that he needed to encourage himself to charge blindly into battle, to assert himself over whatever manner of beast had dared to do such a heinous act. Like an overgrown child, Ephraim had convinced himself that he could defeat any challenger he faced. He was certain he could slay the enemy with little difficulty, especially if it were outnumbered four to one. This was all the drive he needed to come forward, not speaking a word as he made for the door, Hector in tow.

  Veronica couldn't help but notice how different he looked without his suit of armor, the way he held himself having changed completely. It was as though he was more attuned to himself or perhaps that was merely the comfort that came with using his preferred weapon. It was enough to make her mouth go dry, but she would try to hide it for the time being.

The march itself took little time, leaving the men to scope out the edge of the territory. On that night in particular, a thick fog drooled from the edges of the forest, giving the border a foreboding energy unlike one either of them could place their fingers upon. But all the same, they moved forward, into the unknown blackness of the night. Through the haze, Veronica watched over the both of them, constantly finding herself wondering if and when the beast would strike. Had she brought it here, the monster from her own world? It was during one such moment of contemplation that they came upon a disturbing scene.

In the tree, hung the carcass of a deer, strewn out and torn into, displaying the deep gashes into the meat and muscle tissue. It still dripped blood, but all the same smelled foul. Whatever this beast was. It was nearby... and energized by its fresh kill.

It was only then that the four heroes lay eyes upon the tall figure, a single human of unusual appearance. The subject stood before them, eyes glowing orange as it gazed up at the tattered stag in the trees, staring longingly at the meat that still glistened in the light of the moon. The wind howled, filling the silence of the small clearing with the omen of the impending battle. In the moment it took them to blink, the stranger lunged forth, tearing a leg from the deer without so much as acknowledging the four strangers in its domain, ripping through both flesh and bone as though it were wet paper. The leg had been impaled upon sharp, taloned fingers.

And still, they were silent, standing awestruck at this... thing. It was no human. It couldn't have been. However, as Ephraim shuffled his foot back, preparing to make a move on the beast, its attention snapped toward him, as though warning him not to move another inch. The orange glow in the creature's eyes, it pulsated, making it very clear that it was a threat, especially as the color coursed down to its maw and talons, claws and saliva emanating a wet heat. There was another pause before the beast let out a guttural growl at the four of them. Suddenly, Ephraim had become very aware that they couldn't be here without being noticed, that there was no way they could be discreet and attempt to flee. It wasn't as though he considered running away to ever be an option anyway. His pride wouldn't allow it.

  Only for a moment, he exchanged a glance with Hector, mouthing a countdown.

"Three..."

"Two..."