vile thing, having her baby taken at the moment of life into those wretched hands. Was the child dead at birth, or did the Bar’dyn kill it? Tahn looked again at Wendra, pallor in her face and sadness etching her features. He watched her close her eyes against the words.
The rain now pounded the roof. But the sound of heavy footfalls on the road was clear, close, and Tahn abandoned hope of escape. One Bar’dyn, let alone several, would likely tear him apart, but he intended to send this one to the Abyss, for Wendra, for her dead child.
He prepared to fire his bow, allowing time enough to speak old, familiar words: “I draw with the strength of my arms, but release as the Will allows.”
But he could not shoot.
He struggled to disobey the feeling, but it stretched back into the part of his life he could no longer remember. He had always spoken the words, always. He did not release of his own accord. He saw in his mind the elk of his afternoon hunt. Neither should that life have been taken; yet the man in the black cloak had suffered it to die, had made certain Tahn saw him end a life that should not have ended.
Tahn relaxed his aim and the Bar’dyn howled in approval. “Bound to Will, and so will die!” Its words came like the cracking of timber in the confines of the small home. “But first to watch this one go,” the Bar’dyn said, and turned toward Wendra.
“No!” Tahn screamed again, filling the cabin even as the sound of others came up the steps. Tahn was surrounded. They would all die!
Just then the Far woman shot through the fallen door, a sword in each hand. Close behind her came Vendanj, a look of determination on his face that frightened Tahn. The man came to the center of the room, placing himself between Tahn and the Bar’dyn. The Far—Mira—moved so quickly that Tahn could scarcely follow her. At the door, Sutter and Braethen filed in, each brandishing a short knife.
“Hold, foul!” Vendanj commanded, his voice a deep horn.
The Bar’dyn whirled, and Tahn thought he saw a worried look pass across its thick features. But it did not hesitate. It tossed the child onto the bed and lunged at Vendanj with a speed Tahn did not think it possessed. Vendanj prepared to take the blow, but before the Bar’dyn reached him, Mira stepped in, crouching low and driving her swords up in a sharp thrust. One blade bounced harmlessly off the Bar’dyn’s thick skin; the other made a small cut in its chest. The beast came on, swinging its knife—as long as a man’s sword—in quick back and forth motions. Mira had no problem avoiding the knife, but the Bar’dyn forged a path toward them, causing Vendanj to retreat. The creature from the Bourne was coming for Tahn. Helpless, he dropped his bow.
A whistling sound grew. He turned toward the sound and saw that Vendanj’s hands had begun to rotate. The man raised them in a swift gesture and pounded one fist into the other. Mira dove out of the way, and a streak of light shot into the chest of the Bar’dyn, driving it back. The smell of burning flesh immediately filled the room, attended by a horrible shrieking. At the sound, far out into the wood, a chorus of shrieks could be heard above the din of the rain. Tahn and Sutter looked to the door, half expecting a band of Bar’dyn to crash in. None came.
Vendanj’s blow threw the Bar’dyn back into the nook beneath the loft. The beast got to its knees quickly, and reached onto the bed between Wendra’s legs, snatching the child’s body. Mira rolled out of her dive and came up prepared to strike. But the Bar’dyn stood and, with a great howl, rammed the wall with its arm and shoulder. The wood gave and the beast tumbled out through the sundered wall into the rain. Vendanj rushed forward, Mira a step ahead. Tahn finally found his legs, and came up between them at the hole in the cabin wall. Together, they stared into the stormy night. The Bar’dyn, cupping Wendra’s babe in one hand, moved incredibly fast,
The rain now pounded the roof. But the sound of heavy footfalls on the road was clear, close, and Tahn abandoned hope of escape. One Bar’dyn, let alone several, would likely tear him apart, but he intended to send this one to the Abyss, for Wendra, for her dead child.
He prepared to fire his bow, allowing time enough to speak old, familiar words: “I draw with the strength of my arms, but release as the Will allows.”
But he could not shoot.
He struggled to disobey the feeling, but it stretched back into the part of his life he could no longer remember. He had always spoken the words, always. He did not release of his own accord. He saw in his mind the elk of his afternoon hunt. Neither should that life have been taken; yet the man in the black cloak had suffered it to die, had made certain Tahn saw him end a life that should not have ended.
Tahn relaxed his aim and the Bar’dyn howled in approval. “Bound to Will, and so will die!” Its words came like the cracking of timber in the confines of the small home. “But first to watch this one go,” the Bar’dyn said, and turned toward Wendra.
“No!” Tahn screamed again, filling the cabin even as the sound of others came up the steps. Tahn was surrounded. They would all die!
Just then the Far woman shot through the fallen door, a sword in each hand. Close behind her came Vendanj, a look of determination on his face that frightened Tahn. The man came to the center of the room, placing himself between Tahn and the Bar’dyn. The Far—Mira—moved so quickly that Tahn could scarcely follow her. At the door, Sutter and Braethen filed in, each brandishing a short knife.
“Hold, foul!” Vendanj commanded, his voice a deep horn.
The Bar’dyn whirled, and Tahn thought he saw a worried look pass across its thick features. But it did not hesitate. It tossed the child onto the bed and lunged at Vendanj with a speed Tahn did not think it possessed. Vendanj prepared to take the blow, but before the Bar’dyn reached him, Mira stepped in, crouching low and driving her swords up in a sharp thrust. One blade bounced harmlessly off the Bar’dyn’s thick skin; the other made a small cut in its chest. The beast came on, swinging its knife—as long as a man’s sword—in quick back and forth motions. Mira had no problem avoiding the knife, but the Bar’dyn forged a path toward them, causing Vendanj to retreat. The creature from the Bourne was coming for Tahn. Helpless, he dropped his bow.
A whistling sound grew. He turned toward the sound and saw that Vendanj’s hands had begun to rotate. The man raised them in a swift gesture and pounded one fist into the other. Mira dove out of the way, and a streak of light shot into the chest of the Bar’dyn, driving it back. The smell of burning flesh immediately filled the room, attended by a horrible shrieking. At the sound, far out into the wood, a chorus of shrieks could be heard above the din of the rain. Tahn and Sutter looked to the door, half expecting a band of Bar’dyn to crash in. None came.
Vendanj’s blow threw the Bar’dyn back into the nook beneath the loft. The beast got to its knees quickly, and reached onto the bed between Wendra’s legs, snatching the child’s body. Mira rolled out of her dive and came up prepared to strike. But the Bar’dyn stood and, with a great howl, rammed the wall with its arm and shoulder. The wood gave and the beast tumbled out through the sundered wall into the rain. Vendanj rushed forward, Mira a step ahead. Tahn finally found his legs, and came up between them at the hole in the cabin wall. Together, they stared into the stormy night. The Bar’dyn, cupping Wendra’s babe in one hand, moved incredibly fast,
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