D. Heinrich - The Tainted Sword

Walking through the silent woods of larch and beech, Johauna felt the weight of the winter day close in on her. The silence seemed almost palpable. Everywhere she looked, she saw only the still woods, bare trunks of strange and twisted trees. A dark red oak leaf or two waved feebly at her passing, as did one brave clutch of golden aspen leaves. Their colors were dimmed beneath the looming clouds. Jo cast her eyes toward the leaden sky: thankfully, the snow had stopped.

The silence began to gnaw at her. The forest itself seemed to be watching, holding its breath. Where are the sparrows? she thought. Or the chipmunks or ground-squirrels? She chided herself and tried to ignore the eerie sensations. She began to whistle her favorite tune as she gathered small twigs. But the whistled notes sounded loud and conspicuous in the silence. The tune trailed off and stopped. She looked up. Aspens stood in a cautious ring around her, as though warning her not to disturb the hush. Alarmed, she stooped, picking up the branches as quickly and quietly as she could.

Johauna tried to discriminate between dead wood and branches that had merely lost their leaves. The trees here were sparse, with little underbrush. Kindling was slim. She wandered from tree to tree, snapping twigs to see if they were brown or green inside. Little by little, her bundle grew.

Jo’s exertions made her warm, so she took off the vest and piled her kindling inside it. A few paces ahead an oak tree towered, sporting a large lower branch that was clearly dead. Jo approached the branch and tugged at it. She heard the bark tear, but the branch still held. Jo pulled harder, straining her young muscles against the wiry might of the oak. She grunted in her effort, finally hanging on the branch. It gave way slowly, but she was sure with a little more work the branch would work loose. Then she could drag the whole thing back to the cabin and have all the kindling Flinn could need.

A strange odor passed her nose. Jo paused, quieting her loud breaths. She sniffed the air. Where is that fetid odor coming from? “Smells like dead cats,” she muttered. She smelled her hands, red from the rough bark, thinking the wood sap might be causing the stench. Nothing but the clean smell of wood there, she thought. She dismissed the odor and gave one last tug. The branch pulled free, jerking past and behind her body.

Something screeched in rage. Jo fell to the ground, touched her tail, and growled. But the creature was quicker than even the magical tail. Searing pain tore through her shoulder. Then came blackness, and she reappeared twenty paces away. Clutching her lacerated shoulder, she stumbled to her feet. Red wetness ran down her hand. Spinning about, she glimpsed her attacker: dark and twisted and humanlike in shape, it hurtled toward her. The creature’s long, brittle fingers raked at her, catching threads of cloth and strands of hair as she jumped backward. She blinked again, only narrowly escaping the darting jaws and tobacco-colored fangs that gleamed dully with spittle.

Jo reappeared a heartbeat later, only fifteen paces away. She dropped to the ground and lay crouched very still. The creature’s ten-foot-tall body faced away from her. Its bony spine bristled as it slowly turned around. It had brittle-looking legs and arms, which ended in sharp talons. Jo gasped as the gaunt creature stretched to its full height, its long arms arching outward at its sides. It sniffed the air, the wiry hair on its dry skin prickling. Jo cautiously exhaled, then filled her lungs with much-needed air. Blinking continuously was hard work, and she was dizzy from both that and the wound to her shoulder.

Jo stiffened. The creature’s small, roundish ears flattened her way. Its tiny black eyes glinted. It whirled and leaped, a single, gigantic bound. One more such leap and it would be on her. Jo blinked again, hoping not to lose herself in travel.

Two heartbeats sounded before she reappeared. The thought fled through her mind that another use might trap her in the spatial dimension through which the blink dog’s tail transported her. She remembered her father giving her the tail on her sixth birthday, telling her not to abuse it. He had warned that too much use of it would shorten the distance traveled and lengthen the time in the void.

She reappeared now only ten paces from the creature, and directly in front of it. Daring not to blink again, she turned to run.

Jo’s experience at dodging authorities in Specularum and leaping carts in the marketplace now proved invaluable. She vaulted branches and fallen trees with a speed she had never shown in the city. But the branches didn’t hinder the beast behind her, either. She stumbled blindly on, her feet twisting on the icy roots. She had no idea how long she ran, knowing only that the monster still panted relentlessly behind her.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps-she had no breath to spare in shouting for Flinn. Jo could only pray that she was running toward the cabin and not farther away. The creature’s panting moans filled her ears. Twice, razor claws raked her hair, almost snagging her braid. Both times she ducked and scrambled out of the way. The beast followed close on her heels. Her heart felt near bursting.

The beast’s bone claws flew again. This time the nails sunk deep into Jo’s tattered shift. With a swift yank, the creature pulled Johauna off her feet and onto her back. The impact knocked the wind from her body, and a scream of terror escaped her lips. The creature tumbled onto her, its claws-both fore and rear-raking at her. They tore away her shift and ripped into the skin beneath.

Jo reached for her magical tail, determined to make one more blink despite where it might leave her. The tail was gone; it had dropped from her belt as she ran. She panicked. The heavy creature on her chest squeezed the breath out of her, pinning her arm. The monster’s maw opened wide, its eight stained fangs gaping and drooling rusty spittle.

She screamed. Pain ripped through her shoulder, a pain so great it drove all thoughts from her mind and thrust her into a brown void of noise. The creature was devouring her. Its saliva seared into her blood. Nausea washed over her, but still she pushed against the dry, papery skin of the brutal hulk covering her.

Jo screamed again, or so she thought. But the scream was deeper, yet strangely higher-pitched than her own. In the dark red haze that was falling across her vision, she saw Flinn the Mighty and the deadly creature circle one another, as if dancing.

Johauna was reminded of the tale of the two giants, and she wondered if they, too, had danced with Flinn. From somewhere far off she laughed, and the haze washed down in a wave over her. She was at the port at Specularum, waiting for her ship to come in because her parents were on board. They never came. She was only six years old.

The blood-red haze turned to black.

Flinn stood beside the stable, stretching a green hide across a frame, when he heard the scream. His gaze shot to the west, and his hand leaped to the sword at his side.

“Jo!” he shouted, unaware that he did. He jumped toward the woods and ran up the slight hill as fast as he could. Branches tore at him, but he gave them no heed.

Jo! his mind cried. What’s wrong? Has she run into the wildboy again? No-this is a scream of terror. Something’s attacked her. He thought of the mountain lion tracks he had recently seen and his pace quickened.

Flinn crested a slight rise and heard Jo scream again, a scream that cut Flinn to the quick. Before him, not more than three paces away, lay Jo, thrashing beneath some strange creature. Blood spotted the dirty, trampled snow. The monster was atop the girl, gnawing at her shoulder. With a cry, Flinn drew his blade in an upward arc and leaped forward. He brought the sword singing down upon the back of the beast.