Page 62 of Of Sword & Silver

The manticore is straight from a nightmare. The incredible, putrid stink of it will haunt me the rest of my life, I’m sure of it.

“It’s fucking huge.” I’m not even aware I’m speaking out loud until I hear my own voice.

Bat-like, leathery wings stretch from its strange, furred hide, each segment tipped with a talon so dark they seem to absorb the light. It’s larger than the direcat even, and I’m grateful that creature took its leave of us in the Hiirek foothills rather than battle this thing. Shaggy dark-brown fur hangs in tangled mats all over it, a grotesquely long whip of a scorpion’s tail lashing behind it.

When it turns towards us, though, revealing its face, fear plunges icy hands into my heart.

Its nearly human features take us in, wide, cat-like eyes intelligent and crazed all at once, its features too monstrous to be human and too human to be truly monstrous.

It is horrible.

Lara’s horse rears and she dives forward, grabbing fistfuls of mane to stay on, then manages a surprisingly elegant dismount.

The Sword reins in his horse, and the manticore seems to smile at the sight of him, revealing fangs the size of my forearms. Ropes of saliva dangle from its mouth, and it roars a challenge.

“Right then,” the Sword says, sounding slightly bored.

My gaze darts back to Lara, who’s drawing a circle at least twice as wide as she is tall in the ice-glazed dirt.

The town’s belltower continues to ring, and the manticore shakes its great shaggy head then roars again, attention diverted from our small company. My stomach lurches as I realize what’s happening.

“The bell,” I mutter, glancing back at the Sword.

My mouth goes dry. He’s shirtless, pulling on his armor, spiked pauldrons glinting in the hazy winter sun.

I shake my head. “The bell,” I say more loudly. “The noise—look.” I point at the manticore, willing them to see what I’m suddenly having trouble putting into words.

Morrow’s horse prances underneath him, nostrils blowing. “What do you suggest?” he asks casually, as though I’ve offered him a tray of sweets to choose from.

“We need to stop them ringing the bell,” I say, looking to Lara for support. Lara’s busy, though, etching all sorts of unrecognizable symbols into the dirt. An iridescent globe shimmers above her, and though her mouth’s moving, I can’t hear a word she’s saying.

Right. No help there.

“The bell could be a good distraction from our attack,” the Sword says calmly. How the hells he’s able to put on armor without any help, I don’t understand, but how everyone is so damned relaxed in the face of this thing is even more perplexing.

It pisses me off.

“There is a monster right there,” I point at it, in case they missed it, “and it’s going to decimate this place unless we get them to stop ringing the gods-damned bell.”

I almost call them all idiots, but I restrain myself. Barely.

“So you want to risk your neck riding for the bell tower… past the beast?” Morrow asks. He grins. He’s smug. “Or do you want them to be the distraction, so we have an easier time?”

“Oh, fuck you, Morrow.” I shake my finger at him. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re trying to do. Don’t make me out to be like you. I am not a hero.”

Something changes, energy pulsing through the air.

The bell stops ringing.

The Sword’s attention whips over to Lara and I follow his gaze. She’s chanting, still silent, at least to me, but there’s no doubt that’s where the power emanates from. A glowing blue chain of light pours from her palms, stretching all the way to the bell tower, where it disappears from view under the bell.

“I like her,” Morrow says.

The Sword doesn’t say anything.

He looks at me, though, and there’s a sadness there, an inevitability I don’t know how to describe.

I nod at him once. “Guard Lara,” I yell at Morrow and spur my horse towards the manticore. Despite the sudden silence from the bell tower, the town is still in chaos, multiple pillars of smoke rising from many small fires.

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