Larry Correia: Monster Hunter Alpha

You’re no king.

They lurched to a stop in a cloud of broken rock. Earl jerked the cable around the Alpha’s neck, then rolled himself over against the Alpha’s chest. He sunk his three-clawed hand into the flesh around the amulet.

NO. IT’S MY BIRTHRIGHT.

You have to earn it.

In desperation, the Alpha let go of the wall to try and tear Earl from the amulet. They were falling again. Earl’s claws tightened around the burning piece of silver.

They reached the end of the cable’s slack. The loop Earl had created snapped tight, and the Alpha’s unnatural mass slammed against the noose. Vertebrae and muscle tore. The amulet ripped free of the Alpha’s chest as Earl was dislodged and flung aside.

Earl hit the wall, skidding, but managed to sink his talons against a ledge to catch himself. The amulet scorched his hand, but he held on. Above, the Alpha hung, swaying, his limbs dangling, lifeless. The golden light in the giant’s eyes began to fade.

He didn’t even know if the Alpha could hear his thoughts, only that he could hear the ones the Alpha chose to broadcast, but he had to try. I’m sorry I cursed you, Adam. I wish I’d known. Maybe I could’ve made a difference. Maybe I could’ve helped somehow. Maybe…

The Alpha’s body gradually shrank as the amulet’s energy left him. The head separated from the body, and both parts plunged past Earl into the darkness.

The strange words seemed to hang in the air for a time, repeating in her ears, even after the Alpha disappeared down the shaft. Heather’s vision blurred, fading in and out of focus in time, as the words turned into a chant. As the world faded, another one replaced it. An older world, long since turned to dust, where one of the four factions had gathered to create their champion.

The mighty beast had been chained. Capturing it had cost many hunters their lives, but it had to be taken alive, for a dead thing had no spirit to take.

Heather stood before a great-demon wolf, more terrifying than the Alpha had been. It was upright, shackled and pinned between two great stone pillars. The ends of a hundred arrows and a hundred spears protruded from its bleeding skin. Its hair had been burned away with fire, leaving it blackened and naked.

It was the last of its kind. The adversary had not created it. He could not create, only corrupt. The sagas said that the adversary had taken the wolf and twisted it to be this, before he had buried himself deep in the world to sleep. There the adversary would lie until time was broken and remade, to fight the great war of the living and the dead, but before his retreat, he had left his great-demon wolves to harry and destroy man.

But man would steal the spirit of the great-demon wolf and make it their own. For when the adversary returned, they would use his own weapons against him.

One of the great demon wolf’s forelegs was lifted with ropes pulled by a hundred of their strongest men. The device was made ready. Designed with plans given by a mad Fallen, built by their wise men using tools stolen from the Old Ones, and given an intelligence of its own, the device had but one purpose: to make the adversary’s weapon their own. The wise men surrounded the quaking limb and buried the flaming device into the beast’s palm. Its howl had shaken the foundations of the world.

Their greatest hunter had volunteered to be the weapon. He placed his hand against the flames and joined his soul to the beast.

The ceremony had spanned three days and three nights, as the strength had been drawn out, bit by bit, through the device embedded in the beast’s palm and fed into the heart of their greatest man. At moonfall, all that could be consumed, had been. The strength of a great demon wolf had been given to a man. The beast had screamed for all three days of the ceremony, but it was dead now. The transfer was complete.

But something had gone wrong…

The great man could not control the spirit of the beast; instead it had controlled him. At the full moon, he changed into a pale shadow of the great demon wolf. Madness spread. The vision ended in blood.

Heather wiped her eyes and struggled to her feet. Her head was swimming. The vision slowly faded, and she remembered the broken catwalk. She pulled Aino out of the wreckage and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. Flat on his back, there was blood coming out of his ears and nose. She could sense the weakness, the internal bleeding, and the death that was coming with it.

He’d insisted on holding her hand.

“You can’t go back,” Aino said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t talk. Just rest.”

“Aksel figured it out too late. The Baba Yaga didn’t lie, but she didn’t know the whole truth. You’ve got to give yourself to the amulet first, then it decides who gets it. They fought Koschei twice. First time, Aksel was the only survivor, but part of the wolf spirit went with him. When they fought again, it decided it liked Aksel better.”

“Shh…Hang on. I’m going to carry you out of here.”

“Don’t shush me, girl. I’m dying, not stupid. Listen. You’ve got to know. Aksel fought Koschei twice. Second time…said the spell again…and he took it. The wolf spirit takes the measure of who’s fighting over it…decides who’s worthy. It used Aksel. That part of the wolf spirit changed him, and when he died it changed your daddy, and then it changed you.”

“Why?”

“Something about your people was special. Its job is to pick an heir. It’s looking for the last one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Last heir gets it all. Aksel hid it…Because if it picked somebody bad to be the last…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Good or evil…it’s their call. Your call…” He trailed off.

“Aino?” her voice cracked.

“Good old Six,” he whispered. “Always thought she’d be the death of me…”

“Aino?” She squeezed his callused hand, hardened from a lifetime in the mines, but there was no response. Her eyes burned. “Oh, Aino.”

There was a scraping noise echoing from the shaft. Heather turned, expecting to see the Alpha coming out of the hole to finish them once and for all. She scanned the room for help, but there was no one else there. Even the girl Earl had punched out was gone. There was just a weird piece of rope and a burned spot on the floor. She was alone. A sudden clang of metal told her he was getting close to the top. I’m all that’s left. She picked up her grandfather’s rifle and, determined to go down fighting, walked to the edge of the pit.

The werewolf was climbing quickly. The Alpha was normal sized now, but it didn’t matter. He was still more than a match for her. She aimed the rifle at the top of the Alpha’s skull, but hesitated. Her gray vision could tell that this one was lighter in color. He must have heard her, and golden eyes turned upward. Though she had never seen him transformed, instinctively she recognized him. Heather lowered the rifle. “Harbinger?”

Nervously, she backed away. Harbinger wasn’t like her. He’d told her about how the moon drove him insane, about how he had to lock himself in a reinforced prison cell whenever the change overtook him. The monster version of Harbinger was an animal, a pure killer, nothing like the honorable man she’d known. It wasn’t safe.

The werewolf crawled up the shaft and, with an exhausted grunt, leveraged himself up and over the side. Harbinger stood upright, a foot taller than she was in her human form. His light fur was matted and streaked red. His skin was torn with dozens of deep lacerations. Frothy blood dripped from his jaws and ran down his chest. His head swiveled to study her. He took a step forward.

“Harbinger! Stop. Don’t make me shoot you.” He took another halting step. She raised the rifle, but there was no growling, no fearsome roar or baring of teeth. He just looked tired. “Earl?”