No Turning Back
Part 4
Joren’s expression stood somewhere between resolute and terrified. The ground shook as Mirrhe pummeled forward, ramming into tree trunks that gave under his weight; it was like nothing the young man had ever seen before. Certainly not how he had ever envisioned his last moments. He could see his sword’s hilt protruding between the creature’s shoulders, showing no sign of slowing the beast down. Somehow he kept breathing properly, some small shred of serenity in the face of certain doom as the monstrous creature towered before him and rose one paw high as he reared.
A whistling noise caught the apprentice off guard, who jolted in surprise as an arrow sank deeply into Mirrhe’s eye. He shrank back as much as he could despite his wooden bonds while the beast fell down practically atop him, raining spittle all over him as it howled and shook its head in pain. Everything around and under him trembled as Mirrhe stomped and clawed at the dirt. A second shaft rammed into the beast’s muzzle; Joren dared not look back at where the arrows had come from; he was far too busy trying to avoid being trampled.
A third arrow missed its mark but only just, settling near the already punctured eye. The frenzied monster stepped backwards as he scratched at its face, turning the wooden arrows to splinters. As he reared again with an injured howl, a dark form leapt over Joren who exclaimed in shock and winced away. The shape coalesced into that of a man firmly holding a long handled axe. Dodging the creature’s maddened throes from where he stood above Joren’s head, the man expertly threw his shoulder back, letting his arm swing round and upwards as Mirrhe fell back to all fours. Pulling the axe down with might and a cry, the man drove it into Mirrhe’s skull, splitting his face right between the eyes. The monster collapsed, sprawling.
Under Joren’s shocked gaze, the man yanked the weapon from the beast’s head and, possibly for good measure, swung it down again. A single tremor shook Mirrhe’s body and then it stirred no longer, thick blood so dark it seemed black oozing out rather than spurting. The man pulled the axe out with a wet squelch and this time, Joren managed to tear his eyes away from the inanimate body to look up at his savior. Joren did not recall having ever seen him; he was taller and darker skinned than most men in the village. His dark hair was shorter than his own and fell into his face as he looked down at the dead creature. His dark earth toned clothing made him blend into the surrounding woods even from so close. When he turned, his hazel eyes made Joren let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. He was human… He was human.