“Found the villaigh’s great black beast,” the younger pointed.
There, coiled in the grass, was an angry black adder, its serpent eyes following them in annoyance.
“Ye wee bastard…” Skyre let out a breathy laugh. “You ought to leave it be. Dinnae you ken they’re poisonous?”
“Course!” said Cían, “But I thought it needed dealt with! Cannae have it wreaking havoc on these good people any longer.”
The snake’s tongue flicked out aggressively.
“Aye, away with you.” Skyre smirked, pushing the boy’s head down. “We’ve got enough work to—”
A wretched groan shook the air. A haunting, guttural wail that had them grasping for their blades.
Cían was on his feet in an instant, swiveling as they checked their surroundings.
Beneath the ruptured roots of an enormous pine was a deep, tall hole dug into the soil. At the mouth curled four giant, plump fingers. Whatemerged after was a horrid creature, wafting the ravine with the smell of swine and rot.
It heaved itself up over the dirt, and upon its thick neck were two heads, and on each head were four horns. It blinked sleepily and licked its lips and gazed out at the men with hungry eyes.
“An ettin?” Cían gasped.
The creature towered two men high over the warriors below. It wore a putrid garment patched together from dried human flesh. The scent was so rancid, Skyre was momentarily stunned, but the creature reached into its burrow and pulled up a gnarled club.
It spoke then, if one could call it thus. Rather, grunted and gargled sounds.
But the message was clear.
“You were eager a moment ago,” Skyre muttered beneath his breath. “Shall we let it feast on your bones?”
Cían didn’t turn to look at him, but Skyre heard the smile in his voice.
“Let’s see him try.”
Skyre reached for his shield, slipping it over his bracer and pulling the leather strap tight. His eyes stayed on the creature, lumbering towards them with thundering steps. Quick, it surely wasn’t, but what it lacked in speed, it made up for in heft.
“Torin, Eirn, take the high ground, keep your distance and shoot down.”
“Aye,” they agreed, but the moment they moved, the creature’s four eyes locked upon them. It sprang forwards with surprising grace, landing amidst the group in a violent crouch that shuddered the ground beneath them.
“Go!” Skyre shouted, and the two snaked off from the group, narrowly dodging the swing of its massive club. “Spread out!”
The warriors scattered. Eirn and Torin climbed back up the rooty hill, taking position on the edge and drew their bows. They aimed for the ettin’s fleshy neck. It roared in response, charging towards the mound, and Skyre shouted for his men to follow.
“Aim low!” he commanded. “Cripple its legs!”
The club swung down, crashing through the mound, collapsing the earth around it. Torin and Eirn leapt aside, quickly scrambling to find footing. The remaining eight encircled the beast.
Skyre lunged forwards, thrusting his blade against its skin, but its trunk-like legs were thick and hard. The creature swiped with its free hand and one of the men was sent careening towards the trees.
“Dinnae let up!”
They were like fleas upon the beast, swatting and biting, ducking beneath its swings.
It kicked out at them with powerful legs, breaking through a targaid with a violentcrack!But the men darted in, and in again, and with their archers above, the ettin grew disoriented.
Its guttural roars echoed around them as it swatted angrily at the warriors. They drew little blood, but the arrows found their marks, till the creature was stumbling and drooling.
“Keep at it!” he shouted, seeing the beast wearing down.
