And it smells like putrid death.
Like brimstone.
A white blur whips around my cage and slams into the Great Horn’s ribs, knocking the animal across the clearing where it tumbles and lands before other members of its herd.
My eyes meet with Neri’s honey irises, ringed in brightest gold, as I jerk the wooden shard from my shoulder. “I’m okay,” I tell him. “I promise.”
More Great Horns attack then, and they focus on Neri. His beast drops to all fours and launches itself from the snow at three Great Horns that charge him at blinding speeds.
I’m not certain what I expect, but to see him clamp that massive mouth around one animal’s neck and snap it with a flick of his head, all while grabbing the other two by the antlers and slamming them to the ground, is utterly heart stopping. Not only because it’s such an impressive demonstration of his power.
But also because I smell the blood from here.
As a strange keening cry fills the night, my thoughts get distracted. I catch a glimpse of movement to my right, only to see a Great Horn pawing at the ground, preparing to attack my cage. Quickly, I repair the damage, and more limbs hurry to help, but it won’t be enough.
It’s only temporary, but with Neri’s galatine sword in my hand, I call on a bit of skill and watch as the metal all but melts and begins ribboning through the twined limbs, reinforcing the wood.
This time, when a Great Horn crashes into my cage, its horns get stuck in the tangle of indestructible metal.
I reach for mysword and drive it through the beast's enormous chest, jerking my head back as hot blood sprays. I rip my sword free and lick the blood from my lips, leaving the Great Horn’s lifeless body to slump against the wood.
I’m shaking, partly from battle, partly from fear, and partly from the craving building inside me with that warm, rich scent floating in the air as blood drips upon the snow.
I force myself to turn away, even as my gums begin to ache like they did those first days of the curse and search for Neri instead.
Panic hurtles through me as I turn in my cage. He’s gone.
At the same time, the Great Horns seem to notice that he isn’t here, and in his absence, all focus falls on me. They surround my cage, heads low, teeth bared, maws pouring with drool like they’re starving.
Their odor is beyond anything I’ve ever faced, and I can’t imagine what it is. It’s so far from the smell of beast, strong enough to make me gag and nearly vomit on the snow.
The Great Horns begin tearing at my cage. They use teeth, hooves, and antlers to gnaw a hole or kick through or gore me.
I dodge every attempt and even kill a few by driving my sword through their mouths. Still, the others are relentless.
With a horde attacking, my cage begins to rock. Side to side. Side to side. As though they understand what they’re doing, the animals work harder to tip it over. It happens so fast I don’t have a second to prevent it.
On my back, I finally scream. The animals climb atop the cage, their weight and stabbing antlers tearing away at the wooden barrier. The galatine holds, but there’s so little of it. If one of these goddamn bastards gets a hold of me, they will drag me from this cage, piece by piece.
There’s a moment of sudden pause. The Great Horns fall still and cock their ears.
But they’re too late.
Neri comes out of nowhere, plummeting from the sky and landing on my cage, rattling the whole thing, and sending pieces of wood raining down on me.
Above, he suffers a swipe of an antler across his side, cutting deep enough that blood pours down his white fur, streaming down his leg.
In a rage of fury, he rips the throats from two Great Horns at once, punching his fist through the chest of another, and yanking out its heart. He throws the bloody organs and tissues into the clearing, all while those same keening wails from before fill the night.
It’s then that I grasp a new fighter has entered the arena. Through a wedge of visibility between the dead bodies of two Great Horns, I glimpse two more white wolves. I have to blink, because they look just like Neri, and they attack so quickly that two Great Horns, fast as they are, don’t have time to react before they’re dragged from my cage, and the slaughter begins.
More wolves pour from the wood, smaller though. Normal wolves. A dozen swarm a single Great Horn and take him down, flinging innards and blood across the snow. More follow the same pattern, dropping the deadly beasts by use of their numbers. It’s a gruesome sight to behold as the God of the North’s wolves rise to his defense.
But a few Great Horns at the cage still come after Neri and me.
I grip my sword in both hands, one fist in a reverse grip, the blade pointed to my right where a Great Horn snaps its maw at my cage. The thing growls at me, and the strangest thing happens.
It speaks.
