Page 155 of The Last One
“Put out the fire,” I whisper.
Philia and Veril dump water and dirt on the fire to snuff out the flames.
“What does it do?” Philia asks.
“Makes you beg Supreme and all the gods for death,” I say.
We watch the dark sky, not daring to breathe, hoping that flying death won’t return.
Flaming arrows streak from the ground up to the sky, altogether missing the terrible bird.
“Hunters?” Veril asks.
Philia shakes her head. “I don’t know a hunter with arrows likethat.”
“No,” I say, “it looks like Wake’s soldiers. He’s already snatched one.”
A flash of light is followed by the crack of a massive bullwhip. The gerammoc pivots in our direction. The sizzle intensifies, and the flashing bright-white light from its eyes brightens. The fiery arrows miss their mark and fall back to earth, causing small fires to spark across the plain. The creature speeds toward us as more fiery arrows light the sky.
We move farther back beneath the overhang, where the air chills and ripens with smells of rot and musk. Like grapes and barley fermenting in some creature’s belly—a creature that is now growling somewhere deep in the cave behind us. The sound rises from the deepest, darkest part of the cavern and vibrates from my feet up to my neck and across my cheeks. My nerves spiral beneath my skin.
Why couldn’t a cavern be empty thisonefucking time?
“Help Veril cross the field,” I tell Jadon. “Philia, you follow. I’ll take the rear and fight.”
The cave creature is close enough for me to see its glow, all blue and…amber,like that of a man whose heart still beats…barely.
Outside the cave, the gerammoc swoops over the hills.
We race to the light of the cavern’s opening.
Veril trips.
Out of the dark, the creature’s long, hairy arm swipes at the old man’s leg.
I hurl wind at the beast, but not before the creature’s claw drags across Veril’s calf.
The old man shrieks, his cry high and never-ending. Blood sprays from the new wound and darkens the fetid ground.
“No!” I throw another ball of wind to knock the creature back even more.
“I got him,” Jadon shouts, draping the old man’s arm around his neck.
“Go!” I scream.
Jadon races from the cave with the injured Renrian in his arms and Philia at his heels.
I run behind my group, my hands burning as hot as the lightning racing along the gerammoc’s wings. I look over my shoulder, but I don’t stop. My feet move like the wind, and my breath burns hot in my chest, pulse thrumming as I dash from the cave.
We burst out onto the open field.
The creature lunges from the cavern. He is confusion manifest, his brown coat shaggy, his talons as thick as a dragon’s. And that face…Gilgoni!
I freeze, incapable of looking away as all feeling drains from my hands and feet, face, and gut. I snap out of my stall and throw my hands at him.
Gilgoni wheels back, hitting the cave wall, courtesy of my crackling blue wind.
The flying gerammoc races over the plain, its incandescent eyes tracking us, that light so bright now that I can’t see my hands before my face. The aburan, Gilgoni, waggles his head, then roars, sprinting toward us. He grabs rocks with his strong hands and hurls them at us.
