Tin Thoughts (The Downfall Saga Book 2) Page 30
“Where?” asked Caddaric, massaging his injured shoulder after the long climb. He was pale, but had a look of determination on his face.
“The manticores. I think their nest is behind the waterfall.”
“Any sign of the other teams?”
“I didn’t see any.”
The three of them moved away from the cliff so they could watch the waterfall while they talked.
“I only saw one of them,” said Ravyn. “If we can lure it away from the nest, then one of us can run in and grab the trophy.”
“What do we do?” asked Kort. “It’s part lion, right? Maybe we can get it to chase a light across the ground like a cat.”
“That’s the stupidest idea that I’ve ever heard,” said Caddaric.
“I’ve got more.”
Caddaric let out a soft groan.
“Why don’t you think of something better, and you’d better make it quick,” said Kort.
Kort pointed towards the far end of the plateau. Six small figures, dress in grey, were climbing down from the higher plateau.
“There’s no time to make a plan,” said Ravyn. “I’ll lure it out, and you two sneak around to its nest.”
“No,” said Kort, grabbing her arm.
“Caddaric’s injured and I’m faster than you, Kort. We don’t have time to argue. You have to trust me.”
She twisted free of his grip, and splashed her way across the stream flowing from the pool under the waterfall towards the edge of the plateau.
“You get the trophy,” said Kort.
He didn’t wait to hear Caddaric’s answer before hurrying after her.
The manticore walked around the waterfall, and bared its teeth at Ravyn, before letting out a growl.
It moved with a fluid grace at odds with its large size. It was larger than the biggest bull he’d ever seen. It had the body of a lion, with fur the color of fresh blood. It had a long, segmented tail which ended in a thick bulb with a barbed stinger, as long as a man’s forearm, sticking out of it. The tail curved forward into the air and hung dangerously above its back. Two black, leathery wings were pressed tight against its body.
When Ravyn showed no sign of moving away, it let out a booming roar.
Kort glanced behind him and saw Caddaric gliding his way along the base of the cliff. Looking the other way, he saw that the dwarves had just about finished their climb down the cliff.
The manticore leapt towards Ravyn. It was an effortless leap which covered half the distance between them.
She fumbled at her waist, before remembering that she’d taken off her sword before climbing up the chute.
She drew a knife from the sheath on her leg and backed away.
“Keep eye contact,” said Kort. “Don’t look away.”
“Or what?” she turned to look at Kort.
The manticore bounded towards her and knocked her to the ground with a casual flick of its paw. It let out another growl, and started to circle around her prone body.
“Hey!” yelled Kort, splashing across the stream towards it.
He drew his knife and threw it as hard as he could. It spun end over end, before bouncing harmlessly off its haunch.
It turned and stalked towards him.
Kort backed up. The water was knee deep and the rocks at the bottom were slippery.
He’d made it halfway back across the stream before the manticore leapt into the water in front of him, spraying him with the icy water.
It let out a low growl.
Kort froze. He stood there, staring into its striking blue eyes.
It raised its haunches and lifted its tail high in the air. It sniffed at him before whipping its tail towards him.
Chapter 32
With a final heave, Donovan pulled himself out of the shaft and rolled onto the cold, rocky ground. He followed the trickle of water with his eyes from where it fell into the shaft back to a stream of water flowing out of a pool underneath a waterfall.
He saw movement by the waterfall. He did a double take when he saw that it was Caddaric running behind the waterfall, his arm hanging in a sling.
Ravyn lay crumbled on the ground not far away. He didn’t see any blood, but she wasn’t moving.
He was about to call out to her when he heard a loud splash from off to his right. He turned and saw a nightmarish image. Kort was standing shirtless in a stream of knee deep water, eyes wide, and a look of terror etched across his face. A manticore stood in front of him, its blood red fur dripping with water.
It let out a deep growl, loud enough that he could hear it over the sound of falling water.
Donovan charged towards it, all thoughts, except trying to help Kort, had disappeared from his head.
It cocked its tail high in the air and Donovan knew that he’d never make it there in time.
Time seemed to slow down.
He watched as the muscles in its haunches rippled beneath its skin, before tensing, and the tail started to descend.
He pumped his legs as hard as he could, his injuries from the altercation with Brighid and Finian completely forgotten. He wasn’t sure if he was moving faster than he thought or if the manticore was slower than he’d expected, but he was nearing the edge of the stream and the tail had only descended halfway towards Kort.
His mind raced, despite how slow everything was moving around him. He thought about drawing his sword and trying to chop off the stinger before it struck Kort, but if he missed, Kort would be dead. It would take a precise swing which he wasn’t sure he was capable of.
He launched himself towards Kort and knocked him out of the way a moment before the stinger would have pierced his heart.
He felt a pressure near his shoulder and turned his head to see the stinger sinking into his flesh. He could feel the pressure of the barbed end forcing its way inside of him, but he didn’t feel any pain.
The bulb on the end of the tail throbbed and a moment later the pressure he was feeling increased a thousand fold. His whole body erupted in a burning pain that felt like someone had filled his skin with flaming coals and they were burning their way out of him.
The tail undulated and the stinger pulled free. A chunk of skin tore off and remained stuck to the barb.
Then he was falling.
He felt the blessedly cold water embrace him as he sunk below its surface.
Chapter 33
The tail whipped towards him, and at the last moment an unseen force knocked him aside. The impact was powerful enough that he flew into the air and hit his head on the hard rocky ground beside the stream when he landed.
Kort looked up, still dazed from what had happened.
Four short figures, clad in grey, rushed towards the waterfall. It took him a moment to realize that the dwarves were almost at the manticore nest.
His eyes flicked over to the nest behind the waterfall in time to see Caddaric emerge, something gold and shiny held in his good hand. He held it above his head, and sunlight glinted off its surface.
Two dwarves were running towards something on the far side of the stream. Kort thought it was Aplite and Syen, blades held high in the air, a war cry issuing from their mouths.
They paused beside someone laying on the ground. Syen brushed aside the thick black hair, revealing a pale face that rarely left his thoughts.
He staggered to his feet to rush to her side, and saw the manticore standing in the middle of the stream watching something under the surface of the water.
Donovan bobbed to the surface of the stream and floated there, unmoving.
Kort looked around, searching for a weapon of some sort. He picked up what he thought was the humerus of a drakon.
“Get away from him!” he yelled, as he ran towards the fearsome beast.
A loud crack rent the air, louder than any thunder he had ever heard.
Kort looked up, expecting to see a massive storm cloud in the air, but the sky was still clear.
The manticore looked spooked. It sniffed the air, tr
ying to find the source of this new danger.
Kort caught sight of Headmaster Marrok standing atop the higher plateau, looking down at them.
The manticore turned towards Kort, and he wished he hadn’t moved so close to it.
Another crack sounded, and the water between them exploded, sending a shower of steam into the air.
The manticore fled to the far side of the stream and began cautiously walking towards its nest.
Kort turned back to when Donovan had been floating in the water only to see that the stream had carried him towards the edge of the plateau.
“No!” screamed Kort, as the body toppled over the edge.
Kort ran to the edge.
There was another plateau below them, this one much narrower than the one they were on. The water pooled below him, before flowing over the edge and falling into the large pool that they’d seen on their way to the cave. The water eventually joined the river that flowed into the bay they’d swam across hours ago.
The water roiled and foamed below him and Kort held his breath, waiting for Donovan to surface.
When he did, his left arm was bent at an odd angle, and he floated around in the pool before the current began pulling him towards the edge.
“I love you Mom and Dad,” said Kort.
He plugged his nose with one hand and jumped off the cliff. He only had a moment to panic before he landed feet first in the pool of water.
It felt as if a giant hand had slapped his entire body. He sunk deep below its surface and the water momentarily held him in its belly, before releasing him, and he rose to the surface. He swam towards Donovan and just missed grabbing his slippery arm before he tumbled over the edge.
In his haste to reach Donovan, Kort hadn’t prepared himself for another dive. He tumbled over the edge and through the air, as he tried to keep sight of Donovan below him.
If the first fall had been a slap, then this one was a kick to a very sensitive area of his body. Everything ached, and all of the air was knocked out of him.
He gave himself the barest of moments to draw a deep breath before he stuck his head back under the water and searched for Donovan. He found him floating near the bottom of the pool, slowly rising towards the surface. Kort took a deep breath and dove down to get Donovan. He wrapped one arm around his chest and started kicking his way back the surface.
Kort had to catch his breath after they had broken the surface before he could call out.
“Help! I need help!”
He propped Donovan on top of his chest and kicked his way towards shore.
When his foot hit the bottom of the pool, he stood up and carried Donovan towards shore.
“Help! Help!”
He laid Donovan down on the rocky ground beside the pool. He held his fingers against Donovan’s neck and felt a faint pulse, but he didn’t seem to be breathing. A mucous green pus was oozing out of a wound near his shoulder, which he assumed was where the manticore had stung him. There was an odd bend in his left forearm where a bone had obviously been broken.
Kort knelt there beside his friend. He had no idea how to treat the sting and he came to a grim realization that he didn’t know how to get him breathing again either.
Tears ran down his face and rained onto Donovan’s body.
“I’m so sorry.”
He heard hurried footsteps coming towards him, and Osmont appeared at Donovan’s other side. He dropped to the ground and placed his ear next to Donovan’s mouth. He lifted his head and noticed the wound near his shoulder for the first time.
“Is that?” he asked, pointing at the wound.
Kort nodded. “Waterfall ... breathing.” He choked on the lump in his throat.
“Right. One thing at a time. Help me roll him onto his side.”
The two of them rolled him onto his right side, Kort did his best to support the broken arm while holding him there.
Osmont placed one hand on Donovan’s chest and the other near his mouth. His eyes seemed to lose focus and he stopped breathing.
Kort was worried that something had happened to Osmont when he hadn’t moved in over a minute, not even to draw a breath, when a trickle of water started flowing out of Donovan’s mouth. Kort tried to hold him still while his body shook with spasms as the puddle of water on the ground continued to grow.
Donovan finally drew a deep, gurgling breath, before falling still again.
Kort rolled him onto his back again and looked up at Osmont.
Osmont looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and spent the last few hours trying to chase down a horse that had escaped from the corral.
“Thank you,” croaked Kort.
Osmont stared down at Donovan, but showed no signs of hearing him.
“Damn that boy. Why can’t anything work normally with him?” He looked up at Kort. “I’m going to need help healing him?”
“What can I do?”
“Scream and holler until you find someone who can help me. Otherwise, build a large fire. I’m going to need it when I’m done.”
Osmont hovered his hands above Donovan’s heart, and showed no signs of moving.
Kort stood up and began collecting firewood. Every few seconds he screamed as loud as he could for help, but he had no idea where to go to find anyone.
When he returned with the first armful of firewood, he looked up and saw eight people standing on the edge of the second plateau high above him. He couldn’t see Headmaster Marrok on the cliff above them, but he would never be able to get down here in time.
“Help!”
He dropped the wood onto the rocky shore. He snapped the thin branches into shorter lengths and dumped them in a pile on the rocks. He began leaning the large sticks against each other over top of the kindling, before concentrating and using his magic to start the fire. He had just finished adding the last of the wood to the fire when a set of heavy footsteps approached.
“Help!”
Tuff burst out of the trees and ran towards him.
“What’s the matter, Kort?”
Kort pointed over to where Osmont was still crouched over top of Donovan.
“How long?”
“Too long.”
Kort headed out to find more wood, fearing what he’d find when he returned.
When he returned he saw Osmont curled up in a ball beside the fire, his skin was ashen and there was no sign of movement. Tuff knelt by the water’s edge, retching up everything that he’d eaten recently. He looked up when he was finished, and saw Kort standing there.
“Help me over to the fire.”
Kort hurried over. He reached down to grab Tuff’s hand, but quickly withdrew his own hand. It had felt like he had touched the icy hand of death. There was no warmth, no life left in Tuff. Reluctantly he grabbed Tuff around his thick chest, and dragged his heavy body over to the fire, where he set him down none too gently.”
“Thanks, boy.”
“What happened?”
“Stubborn old goat. He refused to release it and it nearly snuffed out his own spark.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Something’s preventing us from healing Donovan. It’s like his own body fought off our help, and Osmont refused to give up. He flared his Gift for too long. I’m surprised that he is still alive. I had to crack him over the head to get him to stop.”
“But he’ll live?”
“Keep him warm and he should recover in a few days.”
“And Donovan?”
Tuff shook his head. “There was nothing we could do. We both fought against it, but couldn’t do anything to help him.”
“The venom?”
“No. The venom we could deal with if we got to him in time. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I didn’t think it was possible to resist healing, let alone when you’re unconscious.”
***
“On your feet,” said Marrok. “We’re leaving soon and you need to pack.”
“I’m not going, Headmaster,” said Kort.
“I don’t remember giving you a choice. Now go.”
Kort stared up at Headmaster Marrok, hatred in his eyes.
Marrok calmly looked back at him, and again Kort was reminder of how ragged he looked. When he had first met the Headmaster, he had reminded Kort of a jovial old storyteller who visited their village every year. The last year had been hard on him, and now he looked shrunken and withered. Loose folds of skin hung from his face, his eyes were dark and swollen, and he never smiled like he used to.
“Are you abandoning Brighid and Finian?”
“Don’t you worry about them. We’ll have people searching until they’re found.”
“Why can’t I stay with them?”
“You have responsibilities back at Haven. If we leave now, you’ll still have a couple of days to prepare for your exams once we’re back.”
Kort hadn’t thought about any of his classes since leaving for the Paragon Prize Tournament, and he doubted that he’d be able to focus on them while Donovan hovered between life and death.
They’d carefully transported Tuff, Osmont, and Donovan back to the camp, and spent the last day tending to them. Tuff had made a full recovery, and was up and about again as if nothing had happened. Osmont finally woke up that morning, but he still hadn’t gotten out of bed. Nothing had changed with Donovan, who laid on the floor of the tent, wrapped in blankets, unresponsive but alive. Most of the other professors had stopped by to look at him, but none had been able to help, nor explain why the venom hadn’t killed him yet. Listening to them talk, it sounded like they were more interested in figuring out how Donovan had managed to resist the venom, than actually finding a way to help him.
Kort pushed himself to his feet. He’d been sitting outside the tent since before dawn, and his muscles protested the sudden activity.
“I’ll have my stuff packed within the hour, sir.”
“Fair enough.”
Marrok walked towards his own tent.
No one on the team had felt like celebrating, so the feast which was planned for the night before had been cancelled, and everybody was morosely waiting to head home.
The tent flap opened behind him, and he turned to see Eva exiting the tent.