The Lost Realm by J. D. Rinehart Page A

irresistible. He crashed into Tarlan, knocking all the wind from his lungs and throwing him to the ground. Fighting for breath, heart hammering with fear and excitement, Tarlan stared up into those blazing eyes.
    â€œKill you!” thundered the bear. His mouth yawned, revealing immense yellow teeth. Saliva dripped onto Tarlan’s face. The bear’s breath was unspeakably bad.
    â€œKill me if you want to,” said Tarlan, barely controlling his terror. “I can’t stop you. You’re free to do whatever you want now, Brock. You’re free.”
    The bear drew back his paw. In the faint starlight, each claw looked like a sword. His rancid breath hung around his gaping jaws in a steaming halo.
    Abruptly, the bear closed his mouth, lowered his upraised paw, and stepped away from Tarlan.
    â€œFree,” said Brock, as if tasting the word for the first time. He looked at the trees, at the sky, then at Tarlan. “You freed Brock. Brock thanks you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    Tarlan rose and stroked the bear’s ragged muzzle with one trembling hand.
    â€œRemarkable!” said Melchior. “I have seen many things in my long days, Tarlan, but never anything quite like that.”
    â€œOy! What d’you think you’re doing?!”
    Tarlan turned to see the burly man from the tavern loping up to the cottage. One of his fists was clenched around a whip. His face was crimson with fury.
    Instantly loyal to their new companion, Greythorn and Filos stepped in front of Brock, lowered their heads, and raised their hackles. Their growls filled the night.
    â€œNo,” said Tarlan, waving them back. “This is Brock’s fight.”
    The bear squinted at him, his ferocity replaced with such a look of confusion that Tarlan’s heart broke.
    â€œIt’s all right, Brock,” he said. “You’re free to do this, too.”
    Understanding dawned on the bear’s ravaged face. Drawing back his lips to reveal those enormous teeth, he reared up on his hind legs. Tarlan gasped. He was tall for his age, but the bear was fully twice his height.
    The man never stood a chance. As Brock crashed back to the ground and charged, he drew back his whip, but the bear was quicker, closing his jaws around the man’s wrist and clamping them shut. Tarlan heard a sickening crunch , then the man’s severed hand dropped to the ground.
    â€œAieee!” the man shrieked. “Don’t . . . don’t . . .”
    Grabbing the man with his huge paws, Brock picked up his torturer and hurled him into the cage, still screaming. The man landed upside down, blood squirting from the stump of his wrist. His eyes rolled up to show the whites and his howls of pain reduced to faint bleating sounds.
    Brock advanced on him once more.
    â€œNo,” said Tarlan, blocking the bear’s path. Brock snarled at him with such ferocity that Tarlan thought for a moment he’d gone too far.
    â€œDon’t kill him.”
    The bear swayed on his hind legs, staring down at Tarlan with rage-filled eyes.
    â€œWant to bite him! All the way through!”
    â€œNo. Let him live. He’ll tell his friends what happened here. They might think twice about keeping animals locked up after that.”
    The bear’s black brow contracted as he considered this.
    â€œBrock wants to kill him,” he said, but his growling voice had lost its angry edge.
    â€œI know. I understand.”
    At last, with a low grunt, Brock dropped to all fours and turned his back on the man who’d kept him prisoner.
    â€œWhere will Brock go?” the bear said.
    â€œThat isn’t for me to say,” Tarlan answered. “It’s for you to choose.”
    After a long moment the bear asked, “What is your name?”
    â€œTarlan.”
    Another pause. Then:
    â€œBrock will come with Tarlan.”
    Tarlan grinned. “I was hoping you were going to say