Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

The Savoyard bent his head over his clasped hands and began murmuring the words; Eneko concentrated on them, and on special, sacred magic of a Hypatian priest-mage, that of directed, aimed prayer, with power behind it.

Blessed Saint Mark… patron and protector…

The power flowed, outward and upward, as Eneko concentrated; he felt another power join to his?Pierre's?and their souls sought for that place where prayers were answered.

But then, what he had not dared hope for.

He felt something stir; sensed sleepy eyes opening, somewhere, in that place that was outside space and a time beyond time, in that other where spirits dwelt. Something ancient.

What?

He did not have the means to answer that question; It could not hear him, he lacked a voice It would respond to. But he didn't have to answer it; he sensed It was now… looking. For just an instant, Eneko thought he saw a pair of great eyes, opening.

The monster was at the water-door. Not because it sought entry by that means?too risky?but simply because it wanted to be certain. It required only a moment of soft snuffling, licking the door with its tongue.

Yes. So strong! So delicious!

It moved slowly down the canal, searching the walls. A very great house, this was. Still massively impressive, despite the little signs of disrepair.

That disrepair would be of good use to the monster. There was a route up the walls?as easy to climb as a chimney to an experienced mountaineer. The monster almost chortled with glee.

Then… restrained itself again. It was still too early. Night had fallen, yes; but the house would not be asleep. The monster could not risk Chernobog's anger that much.

Wait. Wait.

Something else awoke, stirred from long slumber by prayers. Opened golden eyes, and then… understanding the meaning of the prayers…

Great muscles rippled down a tawny back. Huge wings began to unfold.

In my city? You grow too bold, Chernobog!

There was some fury in the thought. Not much. Mostly, the thought was just… amused. Christian priests, no less! They're not usually that smart.

From his hiding place in the pilings nearby, the shaman watched. He was awash in fear. The shaman understood what the monster was doing, and he knew that the slightest motion on his part would draw its attention. Should that happen, the shaman was far too close now to even hope to escape. In open water, with enough of a lead, the shaman in his fishform could outswim the monster. But here, in the narrow canals?the shaman had seen how quickly the monster could move in a lunge?

The shaman prayed to his pagan deities. Prayed desperately, hoping that time itself would move faster in its course.

It was time!

Still almost silent, for all its eagerness, the monster heaved out of the water and began climbing up the wall. It made swift progress, even stopping from time to time to scan the area in order to be certain there were no observers. The heavy wall's disrepair made climbing easy.

The shaman, still almost shuddering with relief after seeing the monster's form lift out of the water, froze with new terror. Something new was stirring! He could sense it! Something… immensely powerful.

He turned and began swimming away. But an iron thought came from his master.

There was no balcony providing ingress to the house. But the monster had seen the roof garden, and it served the purpose just as well.

A quick slither, and the monster was into the garden. Being careful, still, not to crush or disarray the vegetation. Leave no trace. Silently, on all fours, it crept through the lush vegetation. Too lush, really?the garden also showed signs of poor maintenance.

Eneko thought he heard a thunder of wings, and felt a shadow pass over him, before he and Pierre fell back into their heavy, mortal selves.

"It is done," he whispered. "Let us pray it will be in time."

A little shudder passed through Pierre's shoulders. "I wouldn't worry about that, Eneko. If the legends are even half true?" He gave his Basque companion a look that was almost baleful. "What have you gotten us into?"

When the monster reached the glass-paned double doors that opened onto the garden, it thrust its misshapen head cautiously between two large potted plants. The curtains on the doors were not closed, and the monster could see into the room beyond. Could see everything quite clearly, despite the overcast and the absence of a candle in the room itself. The monster was a creature of darkness, after all. It could see as well at night as in daytime?better, in truth, since the sun was painful to it.

Its great body grew taut as a drum, almost stunned by its good fortune. It had expected a difficult time, creeping through the house in order to find the prey.

Instead?

She was there! Sleeping in the bed!

It made sense, of course. Even the dim mind of the monster could understand that much. A girl with such coppery hair?such a coppery, splendid soul?

Hungry! ?would want to wake to the sunrise. Feel the coppery rays bathing her in a new day.

A new day which would never come again. Soft laughter began to gurgle up in the monster's thick throat. But it forced the sound under. Just a moment more of silence, and it would?feed.

A claw reached up for the latch. The monster knew, for a certainty, that the door would be unlocked. Such an innocent soul… it gathered its haunches.

Hungry!

The vise that clamped down on its head struck like a god's hammer. It vaguely remembered such a hammer…

But there was no time to think of ancient weapons. The monster writhed like a lizard, caught by a hawk, its limbs thrashing and flailing.

Thrashing and flailing in?nothing. Talons smote thin air; a tail lashed in emptiness. Everything was dark, a darkness not even the monster's eye could penetrate. Dimly, stunned, it realized that its head was in a giant maw. Realized?dimly, stunned?that it was being carried through the air. Like a lizard, caught by a hawk.

The monster's thrashing grew frenzied. Something smote its back. Almost?not quite?breaking the spine. But the blow was enough to paralyze the monster.

Not even his fear of Chernobog could have kept the shaman from fleeing in terror, now. The spirit that had passed over him had seemed like a golden avalanche of fury and destruction.

As it happened, the shaman was quite safe. He was beneath the Lion's contempt. Nor did he have to fear Chernobog's wrath. His master was far too busy?far too frantically busy?forging his own defenses to worry about the doings of a pitiful slave.

Some time later?how much, the monster was too dazed to know?it was tumbled to the ground, its head spit out of a maw like a bad seed.

Wildly, scrabbling to get back to its feet, the monster looked around.

It was back in the cage. Except… even as it watched, the tatters in the vapors closed in, barring any exit.

No, not closed in… were driven in, by the flapping of great wings. Seeing the size of those wings, the monster flinched.

Then, flinched again, as it finally looked at its assailant. Flinched, and sidled away. Whining in its throat.

There are rules, creature. The voice hammered into the monster's brain. This is no longer our time?neither yours, nor mine. But there are still rules!

The monster howled as a great paw slammed into its flank, ripping gouges in the flesh. The blow was terrifying in its power. For all its own strength, the monster knew it was no more than a mouse at the mercy of a cat.