Chapter Seven
We rode into the mountains while the sun was setting on the horizon.
Chiya snorted and tossed her mane, stamping a hoof nervously at the oncoming night.
"What is it, girl?" I asked softly, patting her neck to sooth her. I offered her an apple but she declined, which worried me. Most horses, be they talking or not, will rarely, if ever, refuse an apple, especially a Narnian one, which are juicy and sweet, unless something very bad is about to happen. Chiya stamped again, her huge, brown eyes rolling this way and that. She shifted, as though uncomfortable, then neighed loudly, rearing up and lashing out with her hooves.
Ru screamed my name as I dodged and ducked through flailing hooves, trying to get at Chiya. I caught hold of her bridle and forced her down on all fours, using my body weight as an anchor, lest she rear up again.
"Down, girl, down," I said, staring her in the eyes. She pulled her head away, but I caught it with both hands, carefully, not to scare her, but so she would look at me. "Chiya, down. It's all right. It's okay. Calm down, girl, calm down. Here, have this." I produced the apple again, offering it to her. She watched me for a moment, and then took it, eyes wide, still scared.
Very, very faint, in the distance, I heard an unearthly howl, a mixture of a scream of agony and a wolf's hunting call. Chiya tried to break free of my grip, but I held on tightly. One word pounded over and over and over again through my brain, brought by instinct and training: Wer-Wulf.
I turned to Ru.
"It's not safe here."
Chiya galloped through the Ettin Pass, kicking up dirt and small stones as she went. Ru held tightly to me, and this journey was not like those previous: this journey was scary, dangerous, and reckless. I hardly had time to see where we were going before I had to make a turn, and the sound of hooves skidding over rocks echoed through the deep valleys and wide gulches. Sparks flew from the friction of horseshoes on granite, and Ru's head was buried in my back, so she wouldn't have to see the terrifying heights.
The sounds of the Wulf grew louder, and I dared to look back. There was no sign of the Fell Beast, though I knew it was coming. I looked ahead again to find that I had no idea where I was, but I kept riding.
We careened around a corner and found ourselves facing a solid wall of rock, reaching up higher than either of us could climb on our own. There was only a small cave for us to hide in, and I doubted that it would keep us safe for very long, if at all. We both dismounted, and I turned to Chiya. The Wulf would ignore her because it wanted us. She was wide-eyed with terror, and I let out a wild yell and slapped her flanks. She let out the shrill scream of a horse about to die, and galloped off, down the path, back to her home.
"Ru," I said softly. "Get in the cave. Now."
She did as she was told, glancing back at me before concealing herself in the shadows, leaving me to face the Wer-Wulf alone.
The howls grew louder, less smooth and connected, choppier, as though the Wulf were panting, growing hungrier.
I turned and drew the sword, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the rocks.
The wheezing, groaning, barking laugh of a Wer-Wulf echoed around as well. It was the sound of triumph, the sound of derision that anything should try to get between the foul Beast and its prey.
I drew one of my knives, and called out a challenge, trying not to sound like the fourteen-year-old boy I was, recalling all the speeches made by heroes in the stories I'd read back in the Other Place.
"Show yourself, foul Beast! Cease this useless chase and step forward to meet your doom, though you might feed on my dead flesh as your lifeblood flows out of you."
The foul laugh grew louder, one of genuine mirth. The throaty, ground-glass voice of the Wulf reached my ears, part snarl, part moan, and part words.
"You, puny Human, know very well that I will not die today. I ask you, O Man, to show yourself, that I might see your lying face before I destroy it."
"Lying face or not, miserable Creature, at least mine does not resemble that of a dog," I retorted, my brother's retaliations to Fell Things like this one coming to mind.
The laugh changed to a deadly growl, then the Beast rounded the corner, and I saw the Thing in all its ravaged, warped glory.
Its brown-black fur was matted and ratty, greasy and not in any way clean. Dried blood dotted its body, and in some places it was so thick that it cracked when the Beast moved. It was dog-like and wolf-like, though in a grotesque twisted way, as though nature had been manipulated and made unnatural. Its black eyes glared murderously out at me, and its claws were long and jagged, made for ripping into flesh and through bone. Its teeth were huge and black; there was blood on them too. It slouched down, and its stick-thin arms and legs might have been long, were it not hunched over.
"I'm in luck," it rasped, sending shivers down my spine as it leered at me. "It is said that king's flesh is richer than others, and that pretender king's are even better."
To put it in the words of Edmund: fantastic! I've always wanted to be a gourmet dish.
"It's so good to know that I'm appreciated," I said, using all the bravado I could muster, as well as another of Ed's sayings that he reserved just for meetings such as this. "But, I'm afraid, I have to go now."
I turned, and ran.
