Pilgrimage (15 page)

Caia closed her eyes and exhaled. She braced herself. It was going to hurt. Transformation always hurt. It began with her neck; the flesh grew thick and swallowed her wooden necklace and pendants. Her hair grew long enough to reach her feet and then broke into tens of thousands of short, rough strands and fused with her skin. Her clothes became indistinguishable from her new coat of fur. Her skull cracked and melted like mercury, oozing into a new shape. Her teeth grew and shifted in her mouth, ripping through her gums. Each agonised grunt and wince caught in her throat, released when she wanted, as a growl drowned out by the sound of cracking bones. She suffered quietly, pushing through the pain and staying focused. She had to focus. She had to focus, lest she lose herself in the pain forever.

When it finished, she opened her new eyes and howled. She couldn't manage a scream but she could howl. Then she looked around. The world had changed. Colours appeared softer and anything far away or motionless blurred into a strange collage of mismatched shapes and hues. But closer, she could see the slightest movement in the leaf of a tree and she knew where every grasshopper jumped in the wild grass. Then there were the smells. Everything had its own smell and Caia could smell them all individually. The road, Griffith, Roland, the grass, the air, the mud – each one smelled unique and amazing. She could have forgotten all about her hunt and sat for hours trying to distinguish all the smells. There were more when she focused, following the air currents and licking her nose. Petrol fumes, wood smoke, the smell of alcohol on Roland's breath, the residue of carpet shampoo on Griffith's shoes. Something else, too. Something strange. Something salty and metallic, mixed with petrol fumes and the smell of raw meat. An old smell, but powerful and lingering. She knew that smell. Her apprentice had come past the road.

Caia started walking again. She left the road and headed for the trees. She almost disappeared into the brush. Roland and Griffith followed behind her, lifting their legs high to push through the tall grass. Each step rustled and crunched the plants but Caia moved as if she was swimming through the grass, only visible by the end of her tail curving over the growth.

An ancient wire fence stood above the grass between the road and the forest. Several fence posts lay strewn across flattened grass, connected by rusted lines of barbed wire. Griffith stopped to examine the fencing closer.

“They're bloody.” Caia and Roland gathered around, following his eyes to the blood-stained barbs lying in the grass. Caia pawed carefully through the twisted wood and metal and sniffed at the blood. She gave a nod to Roland and Griffith and continued forward, following the now distinct trail of smells left by the lost apprentice.

The old growth of the forest was tall and the branches grew high above the ground, reaching out and entangling each other. Sunlight shone through narrow gaps in the foliage, lighting the bush with long streams of light. The ground, soft and moist, grew with an abundance of low growing bushes and shrubs but little grass. When they weren't walking, the forest echoed their silence. Caia kept her nose low and pushed her way through the undergrowth. They walked deeper into the woods until they could no longer see the grassy fields where they entered.

Caia stopped. Her companions halted. The smell and become overwhelming, clouding the smell of everything else. Her prey was close. She turned around to look at Roland and Griffith. The look on their faces said they understood her. Caia gave another nod and turned away from them, staring past the trees. The others followed her gaze, straining to see what she saw.

Caia turned and bolted. In an instant, she vanished into the bush, gone before either Roland or Griffith realised what had happened.

The two companions swapped confused looks. Roland spoke first:

“The next time you're so bent on helping a stranger, I'm going to remind you of this. I don't know what shit your kind normally do to each other, but in the last few days I've met half a dozen sorcerers and all but one of them have tried to kill me.”

“Caia hasn't tried to kill us.”

“Oh, so you think she's coming back to show us the way out?”

“Even if she isn't, it can't be that hard to find our way back to the road.” Griffith turned a full circle. Then turned it again in the opposite direction. “I'm still not worried.” He said but his voice shook with a lack of conviction.

“If Caia or her monster apprentice don't kill us, I swear I'm going to slap some sense into you before this is over.”

“Come on, Roland, we don't know what Caia is thinking. Do you always think the worst about people?”

Roland clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. That was warning enough for Griffith to stop.

“All right. I'll admit it's weird but there's nothing we can do. So let's just try to get out of here.”

“Good pla—” A loud, wooden crunch interrupted Roland. A creaking and cracking followed. Roland saw it before Griffith: A tree rocking back and forth at its roots, then falling. He grabbed Griffith and yanked him aside, nearly throwing them both off balance. The tree came down, dragging old branches and loose leaves with it. It all hit the ground in one broken pile with a thunderous crash. Roland raised his arms to his face for protection. A stray branch knocked Griffith across the head. He dropped, gripping his skull and whining his pain under his breath.

That's when he saw the monster.

His eyes locked with it immediately and he froze. The thing towered over him at nearly three metres tall with a head like a rhinoceros and the jaws of a lion. Fur, scales and leathery hide made a patchwork blanket of skin stretched over the creature's bulging muscles. The monster could have wrapped its arms around three of Roland and crushed them all. Whatever it was, it was mostly human in shape but its arms and legs were the size of tree trunks and one hand ended in bone claws, each half a foot in length.

“Griffith, any time you want to get up and do a little magic is okay by me.” Roland didn't take his eyes off the monster.

Griffith stared up, unspeaking, at the monster.

The monster stepped towards them, crushing fallen branches under its elephantine feet. It walked until it was in an arm's reach of Roland and stopped. Roland and the monster stared each other down, unflinching. He would not show weakness to it. Even if it killed him, he would not show fear. He didn't have much in the world he could be proud of but he had never backed down from a fight and he sure as shit wasn't starting now.

Griffith shifted. His whole body shook. He dug his feet into the ground, pushing away from the monster. It noticed and turned to look at him. Then it turned back to Roland. Roland thought he saw it pull its mouth into a smile, then turned to face Griffith again. The creature raised its arm, showing the full length of its razor sharp claws. Griffith's legs piled up soil and mud at the end of their reach but left him in place.

“Move!” Roland barked.

Griffith quivered on the spot.

The monster drove its arm towards Griffith. Roland flung himself at the beast, his whole body colliding with the monster's limb. He bounced off, winded by the shock. The claws dug into the ground beside Griffith. Roland scrambled up, grabbed his companion by the collar and hoisted him off the ground.

“Magic.” He wheezed. “Now.”

“I can't.” Griffith stuttered.

“Then run.”

“But—”

“Run!” Roland shoved him back.

Griffith didn't answer a second time. He bolted. The monster started after him. Roland dove to the ground and wrapped his arms around the creature's leg. The monster didn't even slow. It dragged Roland through the dirt and undergrowth. Roland held tight, struggling to keep hold. Griffith weaved around trees, trying to put as much of the growth between him and the monster as he fled deeper into the bush. The monster forced his way through, its great claws rending through tree trunks like soft cheese, tearing open a path. Roland pulled his legs up to his chest. His arms ached but he forced them to pull him closer to the creature's leg. He held himself tight to the monster, then shot his legs out and swung himself around the monster's calf. Every muscle in Roland's body tensed at once. The running monster brought its other leg forward and collided with the body at its ankles. It stumbled, struggling to keep balance. Every step caught against Roland until the beast toppled.

Roland dragged himself out from under the beast's legs. Shooting pain resisted his every movement; he could feel the bruising down his back and legs where the monster kicked him. His clothes were torn, and a thick layer of dirt covered his skin. But it wasn't over.

The monster was already pushing itself up from the dirt. Roland scanned his surroundings. He spotted a rock about the size of his head. Pushing through the pain, he lifted the boulder. His bones cracked, his fingers struggled to keep a grip. He kept going. He was going to die fighting. He spun about, launching the rock as hard as he could at the monster. He hoped for the head but the rock fell short. It landed square on the creature's claws. The beast let out a roar and slammed its free hand against the earth. Fuelled by adrenaline, Roland ran and threw himself at the monster. He landed, elbows first, splayed across the creature's back, driving it back into the dirt. Roland sprawled across the monster and reached out. He lifted the boulder again, raised it up until his arms gave out and it dropped. The monster roared and thrashed its whole body. Roland slipped off its back, down beside its mutilated hand. Hearing the monster's pain brought him second wind. Roland got to his knees and hoisted the rock a third time. Then dropped it. The monster whipped its mangled, blood-soaked hand away a second too late. The boulder caught the end of its fingers and snapped one of its brittle claws. The monster rolled away from Roland and stood up. It held its crushed paw close, protecting it with its good hand. The monster stooped forward, glaring at Roland. Roland knew how it felt. He felt the same. They were hurt and tired. It would be easier to lie down and die than keep going. The difference was that Roland was used to it. He didn't lose his taste for battle when the odds started stacking against him. He knew how to fight on and fight harder. The monster didn't look so confident.

Without taking his eyes off his foe, Roland reached down and picked up the broken claw. He held the claw like a knife in his hand and waited.

“I'm pretty sure I broke something, getting dragged across the ground. That makes us even.” He raised the claw, pointed at the monster. “If you were human, I might think twice about ramming this through that shit you call a face. But you're just an animal that needs putting down.” He wasn't sure if the pause that followed was because the creature understood or because it was deciding whether Roland was worth the effort. Whatever the reason, Roland appreciated the reprieve.

The creature relaxed and hid the broken hand behind its back. It clenched the other hand around a dead branch on the ground. Roland readied himself. The monster swung the branch down at him. Roland sidestepped. The branch hit the ground with a dry crack, kicking up dirt and wood splinters. The creature stepped closer and swung again. Roland skipped back. The branch hit the ground; Roland lifted his leg and stomped down hard on it. The branch snapped under his boot.

The beast huffed and flung the remains of the branch at Roland. Then it lumbered towards him, throwing a wild fist forward. Roland stood his ground. The beast hit him hard, launching him like a rocket into a tree. He slumped to the ground, coughing up blood. He smiled. The monster roared again, weak and desperate. As it hit him, Roland had driven the claw into the monster's wrist. The razor sharp bone pierced flesh, in one side and out the other. The creature frantically pulled at the claw but between its broken bones and long, awkward claws it couldn't get a grip. Each attempt made it wince and growl.

Roland steadied himself on the tree and rose to his feet. He had gotten his breath back but every movement sent electrifying surges of agony through his body. He had taken a big hit but his gamble paid off. Watching the angry, frustrated beast struggle made him smile. Smiling hurt too. Worth it. Roland pushed forward. The monster hadn't noticed him moving again. Roland stopped and bent over to pick up the remains of the dead branch. He stopped halfway, braced himself, and forced himself to bend the rest of the way down. Standing up again hurt just as much. The branch felt as if it weighed a tonne. Roland dragged it forward as he approached the monster. The creature spotted him and threw a clumsy fist at him. Roland leaned away from it, steadying himself on the branch. He whipped his body back and head-butted the monster's stabbed and bleeding wrist. It roared again and started to withdraw. Roland smiled. He stepped into its space and drove the jagged end of the branch into the monster's foot. It buckled, instinctively reaching out to grab its bleeding foot. The moment its hands touched that new wound, it recoiled again. Clearly unable to manage the pain, the monster dropped. For all its size and strength, it was still just a wild animal. Big, angry and stupid.

Roland didn't often get the chance to fight someone bigger than himself. But he'd still fought a lot of people. Some of them were bigger, some of them were faster, many of them were even sober. Sometimes Roland won and sometimes he didn't. But winning didn't matter. If he could make his opponent's victory painful and bloody, then that was enough. And every one of those painful and bloody fights had taught him how to fight better. Whatever this
thing
was, it still had a lot to learn. But it would never get the chance.