Beastly (29 page)

“Lia!” Grief edged its way into his voice. He shouted her name again, but received only the whispering wind for reply. He hobbled to a nearby stump and gingerly lowered himself. The pain throbbed worse with each stricken heartbeat. He had failed her again.

“The Donovan I know would not give in so easily.”

The Beast spun to the trees at his right.

“My queen! You’re alive!” The Beast rushed to Polaris and wrapped his arms around her, relieved to no end. “Where’s my daughter? And the pirate?”

Polaris gestured behind her. A shroud of shimmering invisibility fell to the forest floor, revealing the hidden pirate. Poogs sat awkwardly, leaning against a snow laden pine. Giant beads of sweat trickled from his brow.
An outstretched arm with trembling fingers clutched the grip of a flint lock pistol. The pirate cradled a bundle of blankets to his chest. Locks of damp chocolate hair flowed over the swaddling.

Forgetting his wound, the Beast scrambled over and knelt by
Poogs’s side. Carefully, he took hold of the little girl in the pirate’s arms. Poogs grimaced but managed a portion of a smile. The Beast placed a paw on Poogs’s
shoulder. “This is the second time I find myself in your debt.”

“Twas nothing my savage friend. Only what any father would’ve done.”

The Beast rocked Lia in his arms. Her breaths labored in little wheezes. She yet clung to life, but none could say for how much longer. He regarded the remains of the fallen ship. The shattered masts, gashed side, and chewed stern painted a picture of grim prospects for flight.

“How much further to the fountain?”

The North Star smiled at Poogs,
then pointed through the wall of snowy trees towards the sounds of rushing water. “The masterful skill of our captain friend has all but delivered us.”

The Beast jumped to his feet, searching for the fountain, incredulous that they should be so lucky to have survived all they had
and
managed to land on top of their destination.

“If only it were that easy,” Polaris said, with an air of sympathy. She motioned for her champion to lower his head. She stretched the chain of the medallion wide,
then set it around the Beast’s neck. “Much better.”

The medallion’s ruby warmth caressed Lia’s face and she burrowed into the thick of the Beast’s mane. He had all he required to see things done.
Once and for all.

“Follow the stream through the woods. It shall lead you to the glade the fountain calls home. Let nothing stop you.” Polaris’s tone firmed and the Beast knew all too well the importance of listening. “The fountain feeds a pool serving as its base. It is within that pool you must unlock the medallion’s power.”

The Beast nodded his understanding and tested the weight on his leg. It protested with a searing sting, but could not break his will. It would take more than broken bones.

“Donovan, you must remember the fountain’s rules. Even a magic as powerful as Wynisahil has limitations. Do not ask for more than you need.”

The Beast leveled his brow into a curious expression, but grunted his understanding. Poogs twisted himself upright on a cushion of snowy moss, calling for the Beast to halt. The unlikely friends clasped forearms. He tugged against the Beast’s grasp, pulling himself upright.

“I’m coming with you.” Poogs propped himself against the tree and checked the pistol’s charge.

The Beast wished the pirate could come with him, but one look spoke volumes of
Poogs’s condition. The pistol was nearly dancing free of his hand. Though he would have appreciated the fearless rogue by his side, the Beast knew Poogs was in no position to fight. This next step was one he had to take alone. He gently pushed the pirate back to the ground.

“Look after her for me,” the Beast said.

Poogs
sighed his resignation. “With my last breath, my savage friend.”
Poogs clapped the Beast on the shoulder, then on the hip. “You’d best get a move on then.”

Soon after, the woods swallowed father and daughter and the Reaper’s Song disappeared amongst the trees. The Beast huddled Lia to his chest as he slogged through the spongy mix of snow and mud. For the first time since losing his memory, he found himself desiring the company of friends. Life was not meant to be a stark voyage mired in solitude. He knew that now.

He thought of Cedrik and their fencing lessons and lectures. He thought of his stern, but reliably guiding words in those dark moments tainted by defeat. Cedrik was always there, always the one to drive him on, to never let him give in. Not to pain. Not to social convention.

Never to fear.

Every trudging step was tribute to his fallen mentor and he took them proudly, adding fuel to his resolve.

A short hike from the crashed ship, the Beast found the murmuring stream. The sparkling water babbled softly to itself as it rushed over stones of muddy brown and soft grays. The fire in the Beast’s leg gnawed at muscle and bone,
spasming every so often as a reminder. Not too much further...

The Beast trundled his ward up a graciously gentle slope that peaked with a breath taking view of the forest. The woodland mural was painted in frozen, muted tones of mountain winter: slices of sage green pines peeked out from behind a shield of icy bluish snow. A fresh, chilling wind blustered up the slope at his heels,
then climbed over his back. It was an invigorating spark that reminded him of his far away home on the Great Road. He inhaled, drawing in as much of the pristine air as he could, then let twin columns of billowing steam jet from his snout.

It was then the Beast saw it.

The fountain waited patiently across the valley’s floor. Its pools numbered three and appeared carved from starlight infused ivory. Glowing runoff provided by the twilight’s radiant stars poured from finely bored ports at the fountain’s precipice and cascaded into the sparkling basins below.

Magic’s magnificent provenance shined glory into the world, blessing each gusting wind, every guardian tree. The very earth hummed with the fountain’s grace. The Beast understood immediately why Polaris had kept the fountain a secret. Such a thing was too fragile for the mortal world and the dark desires of Man’s heart. The wellspring was one of a kind, meant for greater purposes than glory and riches. All that was good and green in the world came from this place. He knew it as sure as he knew the sun would rise after the darkest night.

The Beast no more than lifted a paw for the first step down when a great shadow fell upon the land. A giant blot of indigo swirled within a tempest of black lightning. The storm tore through the wounded sky, leaving a gash of dark space in its wake. He ambled into the valley, taking cover under a canopy of drooping branches. He poked a hole through the snow cover, quickly locating the strange storm. Solid, twisted shapes slowly materialized and emerged from the heart of the storm.

A portal...

Chapter 32

Massive knots of corkscrewing shapes slid through the portal. Shiny, rock solid shards interlocked into walls, broad and tall. A grid of black iron appeared next, then five pointed columns, twisting like the contracted fingers of a skeletal hand.

Towers
.

The Beast’s jaw dropped past his sinking heart. He knew those towers all too well. He had just fled them. The Nekropolis penetrated the veil between realms, corrupting the fountain’s skyline inch by blackened inch. It was as dark a perversion as the Beast had ever born witness. He pulled back the blanket and to his surprise found the opened eyes of his wounded child. She sputtered a cough,
then murmured over a furrowed tongue. “
Faday
?”

“I’m here,
starshine.”

Lia’s eyes drooped closed and the Beast choked down a lump. Was that to be her last word?

He bundled Lia back up and willed strength into his leg numb. Haste was paramount now; the Nekropolis all but dominated the sky. The Beast knew that the black castle provided more than a scare. The Liche Queen would not be denied her prize: she would send all she had.

Halfway to the fountain, the Beast craned his head back. The Nekropolis fully breached the tumultuous portal. It loomed like a vengeful plague, darkening the land beneath. That is, all of the land not occupied by the fountain of starlight. The proud reservoir cut the shadow, cleaving the darkness straight down the center.

The Beast quickly limped his way to the path of light. His wounded leg throbbed with each hurried step, but there was more cause for worry than a broken bone. Voices whispered from the swirling drifts of parted darkness. Sneering, sniveling voices, whispered terrible curses in hushed taunts.

“You are forever alone, Beast of Briarburn...”

“She never loved you...”

The whispers sunk into his skin, deep into his blood like poison. His pace slowed. His mind was suddenly abuzz with stinging contemplation. Was it true?
Had Pandora ever truly loved him?

He slowed to a trot. Had he been wrong? Were all the years spent in service of the princess, teaching her to fight, protecting her every step... falling in love with her every breath... a lie? 

“Give us the child,” a wraith voice called out, “give her to us and you may return to your grove.”

The empty voice stopped the Beast cold in his tracks. It was vaguely familiar.

“What do you care for the mortals? They care nothing for you. You’re
little more than a monster to them, fit to be chained,” the voice hissed.

Cold shivers nipped his hackles. The voice’s words,
his
voice’s words, echoed in his head. It was a cold, hard truth he struggled to deny. The world of Men had done little to welcome him as friend. Maybe the voices were right. Maybe he should just leave the girl and go home.

He knelt, lowering the bundled child to the ground. Something soft brushed his clawed finger, freezing the Beast in place. Lia’s tiny squeezed closed around the digit. In a flash the voices’ spell was shattered. He remembered the first time those pink, stubby fingers found his own. The Beast growled at the unseen voice.

The Beast drew himself up to full height, eyes locking onto the shining fountain. The path of light widened around his trundling paws. Shadows reeled at the sudden intrusion of hope’s defiance. The voices howled with shrieking rage at their broken deception. They shouted vile obscenities at the Beast’s back as he walked away, leaving them arguing amongst themselves.

Seven steps remained. “Hold on,
starshine,” the Beast said, “almost--”

Something fleshy and sharp strangled the words back into the Beast’s throat and jerked him backwards. He fell flat onto his back with
an
oomph
, clutching Lia to his chest. He grabbed at his neck, clawing at his attacker. He rolled Lia to the ground just as he was snatched from the path of light. The Beast twisted to his stomach, searching for his assailant.

Malachai.

The barbs of Malachai’s infernal tail pierced the Beast’s skin, digging deeper into his flesh. Malachai twisted his flank, dragging his flailing prey farther from the fountain. The Beast clawed into the strangling tail, gouging strips of leathery gray flesh. Still Malachai pulled the Beast deeper into the shadows. The Beast wrenched his way to his feet. He grabbed at Malachai’s tail with both hands and pulled. The tug of war lasted only a moment: a jet of pain raced up the Beast’s leg as he dug into the ground for purchase. He grunted and fell to a knee, his grip loosening on the biting tail. He could not win this fight, not with a hobbled leg.

Malachai reared, howling from the shadows. A monstrous yank of his tail hurled the Beast through the air and crashing down onto his chest. The Beast gasped as breath exploded from his lungs. A fresh pain erupted in his side, vying for dominance over his throbbing leg. Halos of green and red blurred his vision. Malachai charged like an enraged bull, head lowered. The Beast absorbed the crushing blow and swung a heavy clubbed fist. He missed wildly, throwing himself off balance. Malachai kicked his rear legs out, catching the Beast in his wounded side, doubling him over.

A mighty swing warded Malachai away from a quick gnash at the Beast’s neck, but only for a moment. Coal black talons raked the Beast’s back driving him to a knee for the second time in the short bout. Malachai circled, mocking him with
halfhearted feints. The Beast’s strength waned. His leg burned. His ribs ached. There was little he could do. He couldn’t fight; he could barely stand.

Malachai moved in to claim his victory. He clawed at the Beast’s chest, cleaving deep gashes. A heavy, back handed blow struck the Beast’s jaw, sending him down in a sprawl.

Triple images distorted the Beast’s vision. Warm blood seeped through his fur, rushing to find daylight, staining the mud. He rolled to his side, scrambling to mount a defense. Malachai had no intention of allowing such a thing. He was a monster incapable of mercy. The Liche Queen’s transformative ‘gift’ had only amplified his relentless bloodlust.

Malachi leapt into the air, soaring through the black castle’s shadow, and landed squarely on the Beast’s damaged limb. His hooked talons dug in and squeezed. The Beast howled and thrashed with all he had left. Malachai smashed a palm into the Beast’s snout,
then seized his horns. He bashed the Beast’s head into the ground once, then again. The third violent blow saw the Beast spasm. And then go limp.

Malachai released his grasp, savoring his victory. The Beast could only lay in the mud, limp limbed, defeated. His head lolled to one side, finding a blurry bundle of blankets. He reached for Lia, but strength abandoned his arm and the limb flopped to his side with a splash.