Mark Sehestedt - Hand of the Hunter

From some part of his mind that still held on to reason, Darric heard the wizard laugh-actually laugh! — and then the attackers were among them, steel and spears striking at Darric's company. Swinging his club in a wide arc, Mandan shattered two spears and one skull-and after that none would come near him. The rest of the Damarans struck back when they could, for most had not yet seen the horror that walked among them.

Another flash, and a spear of light shot over Darric's right shoulder-he actually felt the heat of its passing, even through all the layers of his clothes-then it struck the thing advancing on them. The bolt struck it square in the chest. Clothes and flesh and bone burned away like parchment in fire, but still the thing came on, its eyes fixed on Darric.

Three more steps…

Darric brought his blade around. A clumsy blow. One Valsun would have berated him for. No grace. No thought for counterstrike. No balance. Just raw force behind sharp steel. Darric knew if he missed he'd find himself flat on his back, staring at the sky.

His sword hit the thing where its shoulder met its neck. A bit of skin and soft flesh covering a thick net of muscle over bone. Darric's blade cut through them all, sending a shock up both his arms, even rattling his teeth.

His eyes locked on the thing's face, saw the lips peel back. Not in pain. It was pure, gleeful malice. Even with a yard of steel lodged in its neck, its left fist shot out, striking Darric's double-handed grip on the sword. It felt like a smith's hammer hitting him, breaking Darric's grip. Darric fell forward, rolling into his foe.

It was like hitting a wall. And then Darric was in the thing's grip, being pulled upward. The thing's eyes narrowed to slits, which made their inner fire seem all the more intense. Its hands were iron strong. They squeezed Darric's arms into his ribs and kept squeezing. Darric screamed and kicked at its shins and knees, then drove his knee into the crotch. His captor didn't even flinch.

The thing gave Darric a quick shake, back and forth just once, but with enough force that Darric's teeth clamped shut over his tongue, and he tasted blood. He stopped struggling and looked up, afraid that one more shake like that would break his neck.

The thing opened its mouth and inhaled, taking in a deep draft of air, tasting it. A shiver passed through the thing's entire body-so strong that Darric felt it in his bones, so sudden and fierce that the thing's skin actually rippled. It was like watching a cocoon in the final moments before the moth tore through.

The thing looked down at the yard of steel imbedded in its shoulder. Not with pain or concern. Just an odd sort of curiosity. It released Darric's left shoulder and grabbed its neck.

"Be still, little mouse," it said, and again the fetid breath washed over Darric, so strong that it made his eyes water. "Be still or I snap your neck. It's better… so much better if you're still alive for me."

Still alive? Darric's mind seized at the words. For what?

The thing released his other arm and used the free hand to wrench the sword out of its shoulder. Darric hard the snap of steel working its way through shattered bone, and heard the sucking sound of the skin and muscle clinging to the sword, but there was no surge of blood when the weapon broke free. It was as if no heart beat in the thing's chest. It was only then that Darric's mind seized on the obviousCall for help, you fool! But he could hear the clash of steel on steel, and from somewhere that seemed all too far away the sound of Valsun shouting, "Help him! Damn you! Help-!" And then more steel and screams.

The thing lowered Darric until his knees rested on the ground, then it planted the point of Darric's own sword against his cheek.

"Scream," it said.

"No," Darric said through clenched teeth. With the grip crushing just under his jaw, it was all he could manage. His mind came up with a dozen defiant curses, but he didn't have the breath for one of them.

"How will you scream, I wonder," said the thing, "if I cut you here-and here?" It ran the edge of the blade down Darric's cheek, first one side, then the other, just hard enough to break the skin. "If I unhinge your jaw, are you strong enough to scream while I eat your tongue? Or will you swoon like a tavern drunkard?"

Darric renewed his punches and kicks, aiming for every vulnerable spot he'd been trained to strike.

"Ahhh…" The thing twitched, blinked, and again Darric was struck with the image of something trying to break out of a cocoon. "I can feel your heart beating. So fast. Hammering. You are scared, yes?" Its eyes opened wide, glistening black eyes with hearts of fire, and looked down at Darric. "Good. Fear makes the blood run fast. Makes-"

Darric was looking right at the thing when the arrow hit it. A perfect strike, missing the top of Darric's head by less than a foot, then hitting the soft flesh between the thing's throat and chest, going in deep. The sheer force made the thing stumble back a step, but it didn't fall or loosen its grip on Darric's neck. Just stood there looking down at the black shaft of the arrow. The beginning of a snarl twisted the thing's lips.

But then a crack of green fire sparked along the black shaft of the arrow. No, Darric saw. Not a crack. The light expanded, like flame running along oil, and Darric could see that the fire traced a pattern of intricate runes all along the shaft.

"No!" The thing's eyes widened and it let Darric go. He hit the ground and forced air through his throat.

"No! No! No-no-no! N-n-no! N-n-n-n-n-!"

Darric heard genuine panic in the thing's voice. It grabbed the arrow with both hands. Close as he was, Darric heard the flesh hiss as if he'd grasped a branding iron fresh out of the coals.

The thing shrieked. It was a cry beyond sound, bypassing Darric's ears and raking down his spine like jagged fingernails on slate. It was beyond human, beyond anything he could have imagined.

The red embers in the thing's gaze died, and green fire shot from its eyes and mouth. Fumes poured out of its nose and ears-black and heavy, falling over its shoulders and down its face, a thick miasma. The shriek died, fading away like a final echo. With it, all strength left the thing's body, and it fell to the ground like the dead flesh it was.

Later, looking back at that moment, Darric felt sure what happened next lasted no more than a moment. Certainly no longer than the time it took for the body to hit the ground. But time seemed to stretch, every detail clear in Darric's sight, every sound distinct. The Nar stood dumbstruck. More than a few jaws dropped, and every eye, round and wide, fixed on the lifeless corpse that only moments ago had been their feared leader.

But the stillness broke. Someone out of Darric's sight cried out an order in Nar. Darric's command of the language was limited at best, but he caught one word clearly-"Kill!"

Three Nar, blades in hand, ran for him.

Darric pushed himself up and scrambled for his sword. But the thing's death grip was locked around the hilt and he couldn't pry the fingers loose. Cursing, Darric reached for the dagger at his belt.

He was halfway to his feet when he felt the wind of the arrow's flight. He heard it pass overhead like an angry wasp, and there was a crack as the arrow struck the nearest Nar. The man flew backward, his arms thrust before him, and hit the ground a good six feet away from where he'd left his feet.

His nearest companion stopped in his tracks. He crouched, causing the arrow to hit him in the head. The man's head went back with such force that Darric heard the neck snap, and the entire body flipped backward. When the torso hit the ground, the feet were still in the air.

Through the dust Darric found himself staring at the man. The arrow had gone all the way through so that a good six inches of the shaft protruded out of the back of the man's skull. What kind of bow-?