Peter Brett - The Core

As the demon sprang, Briar gave a cry, throwing his shield. The corie looked up at the sound a split second before the shield struck, wards flaring as it knocked the demon away. Stela looked up, too, eyes widening as she saw Briar drop from the tree.

Stela stepped out of reach of the swinging wood demon. The snared corie took the opportunity to swipe at the rope, but there were tiny wardplates tied along its length, sparking to deflect its talons.

The knife was in Stela’s hand now, but again she froze in place, wards glowing. The demons blinked at her, eyes unable to focus. After a moment she took three quick, sliding steps to the left. The cories’ eyes searched where she had last been.

But while Stela was safe, the demons had no trouble seeing Briar, who had foolishly dropped into their midst, meaning to rush to her aid.

The field demon pounced, and Briar didn’t have time to bring the point of his spear to bear. He gave the corie a good whack with the shaft, knocking it aside as he rolled out of the way.

The demon leapt again, but stumbled as Stela stomped a foot on its tail. A sweep of her knife severed the appendage, covering Stela in a spurt of black ichor.

The demon’s ichor sparked and sizzled when it touched the wards running over her skin. Power flickered through the net, and her face turned feral. As the demon whirled on her she kicked it in the face, knocking it aside. ‘Who in the Core are you?!’

Briar had no time to answer. He pointed with his spear. ‘Look out!’

With a mighty heave, the wood demon had reached high enough to sever the rope. It tumbled down with a crash, even as the field demon shook itself off and began to circle.

Stela was on the woodie before it could recover, impact wards on her palms flaring with a boom as she boxed its ears. Discombobulated, it could not stop her from quickstepping behind its back. She whipped a string of warded beads around its neck, pulling tight. The demon surged back to its feet, Stela’s feet swinging in open air, but she kept the hold, cord wrapped tight around her fists.

A growl brought Briar’s attention back to the immediate danger as the field demon stalked in. Briar growled back and the demon hissed at him, eyes wide as Briar spat juice from the hogroot leaf he’d been chewing in its face.

The fieldie fell back shrieking. Briar raised his spear to finish it off, but he was checked by a cry from behind. The wood demon stumbled back and smashed Stela into a tree, knocking her breathless to the ground.

The field demon would recover quickly, but Briar turned and ran for the woodie as it raised a talon to slash at the helpless woman. He gave a cry, distracting it just long enough for him to put his spear into its back.

The wards on the weapon flared and magic rushed into Briar, thrilling him from fingers to toes. The demon lashed out, but already Briar was faster. He sidestepped one blow, raising the shaft of the spear, its tip still embedded in the demon, to bat another aside. Still the magic flowed, draining the corie’s strength even as it made Briar feel invincible. He pulled the spear free then thrust it again, ducking a return blow and stabbing a third time. His face twisted into a snarl and he shouted unintelligible things, revelling in the demon’s pain as its life-force flowed into him.

Stela’s cry brought him back. She and the field demon rolled in the dirt, locked in fierce combat. Her sides were streaked with blood from its raking talons, and she held its jaws at bay with one hand, warded thumb sizzling in its eye socket, as she punched with the other.

Briar ducked another swing of the woodie’s arms, coming up fast to thrust under the demon’s chin and up into its brain. It jerked and thrashed, pulling the spear from his grasp as it fell to the ground, dead.

Briar whirled to help Stela, but she had rolled atop the demon now, accepting its raking claws as she stabbed repeatedly with her warded dagger. Soon the corie lay still.

Briar rushed to her side, examining her wounds.

He met her eyes. ‘Cut up bad.’

Stela shook her head, putting a hand under her. ‘Just scratches. Magic’ll close them up.’ She made it halfway to her feet, then hissed in pain, stumbling.

Briar slid under her arm, catching her.

She turned to face him. ‘You’re the Mudboy, ent you? The one that guided the count to Docktown.’ She spat on the ground, and Briar wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or Docktown, the place now synonymous with failure and loss.

‘Briar,’ he growled. ‘Don’t like Mudboy. ’

Stela wheezed a chuckle. ‘Ay, don’t bite my head off, I didn’t know. We all get saddled with nicknames we hate. If I snapped at everyone called me Stelly, my brothers and sisters would only do it more.’

‘Ay.’ Briar’s siblings had been no different.

‘Know a place we can rest a bit, Briar?’ Stela asked.

Briar nodded. With Stela hunting so close, he was going to have to abandon his Briarpatch in any event. No harm taking her there now. ‘Safe place. Ent far.’

Stela’s eyes widened as he led her into the hogroot patch. ‘There’s paths.’ She looked back. ‘You’d never see them from the outside.’

‘Cories won’t come in,’ Briar said. ‘Hogroot makes ’em sick up.’

‘That what you spit in that demon’s face?’ Stela asked.

Briar nodded.

‘No wonder your breath smells like a Herb Gatherer’s farts,’ Stela said.

Briar laughed. It was a good joke.

‘Thought you found my hunting spot,’ Stela said. ‘Guess it was the other way around.’

Briar shook his head. ‘Don’t hunt cories. Only bother ’em when they bother me.’

‘You bother pretty well when they do,’ Stela noted.

Briar shrugged, setting her down before disappearing into his hole. He returned with his herb pouch to clean the wounds, but Stela was right. Her superficial scrapes had healed, and the shallower cuts had scabbed over. Only a few needed stitches. When it was done, he ground a hogroot paste to spread on the wounds.

‘Night!’ Stela barked. ‘That stings!’

‘Better’n demon fever,’ Briar said. ‘Long night, even if you fight it off.’

Stela gritted her teeth, allowing him to continue. ‘Must be lonely by yourself. No Pack to hunt with and keep you warm at night.’

‘Got family,’ Briar said.

Stela looked about dubiously. ‘Here?’

‘In town,’ Briar said.

‘Then why ent you with them?’ Stela asked.

‘Don’t like walls.’

‘Arlen Bales said they make folk forget what’s out in the night,’ Stela agreed.

‘Can’t forget,’ Briar said. ‘Never forget.’

‘I’ve got family behind walls, too,’ Stela said. ‘Love ’em, but they ent Pack. Maybe after I rest a bit, you’ll come meet them.’

‘They’re so great, why do you hunt alone?’ Briar asked.

Stela chuckled. ‘Pack’s like brothers and sisters. Die for ’em, but sometimes they drive you rippin’ crazy.’

It was more than ten years since Briar lost his family to the night, but he remembered. How his brothers and sisters tormented him. How he hated them. How he would give anything to have them back.

‘Corespawn it!’ Stela hissed as she looked down at his stitches. ‘Just had those inked, and already I need them retouched.’ She pushed her loincloth down for a better look at the damage to the tattooed wards, and Briar felt his face heat. He turned away.

Stela caught his chin, turning his face back to hers. She was grinning like she knew a secret. ‘Got anything to eat? Killing demons always makes me hungry.’ She winked. ‘Among other things.’

Briar broke off some hogroot leaves, offering them to her.

Stela’s eyes rolled. ‘Please tell me that ent all you got. Din’t even wash it.’