The end of the valley was something out of a nightmare. Rotten hides, bones, fetid meat lay strewn about, hanging from branches and vines strung along the sides of the valley and staked to the ground. Supplemented by wet and moldy foliage, limp and musky leaves and branches.The smell was overwhelming, the sight gruesome and disorienting. But that was the plan, if it disturbed the Greck half as much as it did Tsorn, then that was in his favor. In the couple days he'd been tracking the Greck, some of the carrion had been picked at by the local wildlife, but the stench of poison over the whole bunch, kept the more intelligent creatures away.
Grecks were as picky eaters as Storm-bears, and their senses were much finer, meaning the smell would hide him, but rather it was the Greck's hearing that would give him away. The smell was meant to be disorienting and distracting; having the Greck follow him was part of the plan as well.
"Go, Leon," Tsorn said, looking the wyrm meaningfully in the eye, "My life is in your hands. Please listen to me for once." The watcher chirped and blinked reassuringly, then flew off in a spectacular flurry. No time left. It's all come down to him. Tsorn thought as he made his way to the traps' head.
The walls of the valley were steep where the trap began. There was no point otherwise. But just in case, Tsorn had gone through the trouble of placing stakes into it, pointing down, to discourage the Greck from trying. Those were the only options, try to go over, or try to go through. Going over would be impossible, and the cliff at the other end of the valley meant the Greck had to come his way. He bound up his shoulder, trying the useless arm around his waist so it wouldn't get in the way later. He'd been dumb, leaving himself open, while luring the Empress into the trap, but what was done was done. He'd known about her intelligence, and ability to smell out a trap. But he still let her get too close. He needed her to think he was true prey, but now he was going to have to do the difficult part with one hand. He smiled at that.
Tsorn's father always said he could take an adult Greck one handed, now Tsorn would take an Emperor one handed. Or die trying.
"Nothing ventured," Tsorn laughed to himself.
The Empress showed herself a few minutes later. She was crouching low at the end of the valley, her hide blending into the mossy mud of the valley floor. She didn't seem to mind the stream flowing around her either. Tsorn only saw her because he was looking for her and the possible area for her to approach was extremely small. She'd enhanced her normal camouflage by rolling in the mud as well, taking on a similar hue to the natural geography. But in the end, it was impossible for her to sneak up on Tsorn. As she saw him see her, she stood up and shook the earth from her long slim body, the crown glowing fiercely with her defiance.
"Just you and me beautiful." He called out. "One last dance, before the music ends."
The Empress roared challengingly. It was majestic and heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Come on!" He yelled grabbing a rough made spear and threw it at her.
She dodged easily, and then almost as an after thought batted it out of the air. The speed and precision of her movements, even injured, were inspiring. She began to move towards him, and Tsorn backed into the web of rotting cover. He moved so she could no longer see him, retreating into the maze, giving up ground liberally. The trap extended back maybe a few hundred feet, so every allowance was expensive, but if he played too conservatively, it could cost him in blood and life. A reminder the bloody arm was consistent in delivering. If tendons or nerves had been severed, his life as a hunter might be over, but it was too late to worry about that now. The hunt had to be finished; even if getting away alive was possible at his stage, which was doubtful, Tsorn's pride would never have allowed it.
The Greck snarled as it encountered the wall of decomposed matter, well seasoned with poisonous plants; from mild irritants to lethal bitters: Tsorn had pulled out all the stops. With an Emperor Greck he couldn't hold back. Nothing there could kill it, the crown offered ridiculous resistances and regeneration, but any advantage Tsorn would seize, even just giving the monster a rash. It slashed down the first wall, baring fangs against the difficulty of the task. Tsorn had reinforce every few partitions, just to frustrate the beast. If it got so aggravated and used more energy than necessary at just the first layer, it might make the final task easier. As it pushed into the trap, Tsorn threw another spear. This one the Greck didn't see, since it was preoccupied with the slush it was walking through. The spear was a simple branch, sharpened ruggedly and poisoned. It struck the Greck near the backside, where the Greck was already limping. It failed to pierce the drake's hide, but the Empress snarled, and Tsorn knew he'd hit a sensitive point. Good to know, he thought as he disappeared behind the cover of his maze.
The Greck moved forward again, and Tsorn moved to the next position, cutting a line leading to the top of the valley, where a bundle of sharpened sticks and stones fell to the valley floor. They pelted around the Greck, and while maybe three or four of the few dozen actually hit it, but it served to further infuriate and confuse the Empress.
The tactic was to continually bombard her with new and unexpected traps. If she didn't know where the next trap was going to come from she'd get nervous and strain herself. But at the same time Tsorn needed to keep her attention and aggression to make sure she didn't retreat up the valley to recuperated. She was tired and hungry before, now injured and insulted, the more strained she was like that, the better chances Tsorn's last play would work out. A pit fall was next, and she snarled as the fell into it, one of the spikes even puncturing her foot. Just as Tsorn was about to thrown another spear, she did something completely unexpected.
Tsorn dove to the ground, landing badly on his hurt shoulder, as one of the spears from his barricade careened where he had just been standing. It was thrown poorly, the shaft drifting during flight, but thrown from an animal, for the first time, it was as incredible as anything as Tsorn had ever seen. The Empress barked triumphantly and Tsorn had to rush to his next trap to make sure the Greck didn't get carried away with her victory.
But still, the idea of a wild beast throwing a spear like a person; terrified and excited Tsorn. The Greck tore through two more barricades before Tsorn managed to set the traps up in proper order. He catapulted a number of spikes into the air, and released a sling with a burning sap at the Greck before it slowed again. It put out the burning sap by rolling in the stream, though that was almost as an after thought, unperturbed by the heat since she had a drake's normal resistance. They were reaching the end of the maze when Tsorn heard the long screech from down the valley. Abandoning his spot he rushed down the valley, taking up his next position. Timing was everything; the traps were all just so he could get the players in position for the final act.
When the last barrier fell, Tsorn was standing a dozen paces away, in full view of the Greck, and looking as tired and worn as the Empress. "Well we've come to it at last, haven't we." The Greck sniffed the air expectantly, the clean, open glade so different from the valley-trap; it must have just seen another trap, more enticing than the last one.
"Just one last surprise," Tsorn said. "Think you can take it?"
Tsorn's last few words were muted by the tremendous roar from behind him.
Leon glided down over the the foliage, as the crashing of a large beast tearing through the forest echoed up the valley towards them. The Greck shuttered, and tensed, looking back towards the trap it had just come through, but also watching the shaking forest with trepidation.
That was the play, the Greck would never fight anything bigger than itself if it didn't need to, but Tsorn had no chance of beating it by himself, so he figured he'd borrow some muscle. All he had to do was arrange an unavoidable fight, and clean up the mess afterward.
Tsorn rushed to a spot he'd picked earlier, hidden in the valley's side. He just reached it as the impossibly large Storm-bear rumbled into the clearing. It was well past twice the average size of a Storm-bear. Since Tsorn was hidden from view, the first thing the Bear saw was the Greck. There was a moment while both of the monsters processed the event. Then the Storm-bear stood, its furry hide, shimmering with electrical light. And it roared challengingly, easily the loudest Tsorn had ever heard. A tremendous roar. Shaking the foundations of the earth, roar.
For the last few days, while he was building his trap, Tsorn had been antagonizing the bear. Never directly, he'd toss spoiled game into the Bear's den or have Leon screech into the entrance in the middle of the night. Or Marring territory, around the den in a fashion like the Greck, as if something was encroaching on its grounds. The Empress' scent was already around, since the Greck had been trying to find Tsorn days earlier. So having come to a place that was filled with carrion, facing a Greck that screeched similarly to Leon, with the familar scent: The Storm-bear came to one quick and ultimate decision, the Empress was responsible to all the Storm-bear's woes. It was poetic, since all of the things Tsorn had imitated were directly inspired by the Empress. Leon, in one final evidence of guilt, swooped down behind the Empress and screeched defiantly.
The Storm-bear couldn't have possibly known Leon was a different species, or that it was trained to deceive him, or tell that the Empress had as little understanding about what was happening as he did. He just saw two little reptiles, both needlessly antagonizing him. He saw enemies. And he charged.
The Empress froze in fear. It was as surprising as it was unpredictable. Emperor Drakes were known as fearless, peerless rulers of their domain. No matter size or ferocity they never doubted their own strength. But then again, all Emperors Tsorn had ever heard of were males; they were almost always huge, with total superiority in power. The Empress was little more than a third the size of the Storm-bear, and couldn't spit like a male Greck. And for a moment, Tsorn doubted his plan. But just as the bear charged and was about to close in on her, the Empress exploded. It was faster than anything Tsorn had seen her do before. She started to move to the side but after a few feet she dug her claws into the earth, stopped dead and rolled the opposite direction. The Bear was unready for the maneuver and stumbled. Rolling, slashing and biting empty air, while the Empress fluidly jumped clear attacking back. Staying behind him, the Empress, bound off the valley wall, clawing the back of the storm-bear's legs and back. His hide was tough, but she was an Empress. He snapped in retaliation, but she was never where he thought she was. He was the storm, sparks flying from his black coat, as foam from his mouth, but she was the lightning. Blindingly fast, even more unbelievable by her size. She was all claws and air. But the angrier the bear got, the stronger his storm got. Even she couldn't resist his electricity after a while, her feet scorched black after just a few minutes. So they were at a standstill, he couldn't touch her, and she couldn't get a killing blow. But still they circled; too drawn into the fight to breakaway. And then she made her move.
The Storm-bear never saw it coming. The stake, nearly six feet long, only looked like a twig sticking out his back, but even the fact that it broke through his hide was incredible. The Bear roared in furry. But the Greck moved gingerly, keeping well out of the monster's reach. Then again, the Grech threw a spear. This time Tsorn watched closely, fascinated. The spear glanced off the bear's shoulder this time, but Tsorn could tell it was as surprised as Tsorn was that the Greck was throwing things.
It was awkward the way it picked a spear up off the ground. Grecks had no thumb on their paws, so it grabbed the stake by wrapping its claws around it. With a jerk, it threw another spear; there was no fluidity to the motion, but the focus and aim of the Empress made it possible. Any other animal wouldn't have been about to do any damage by tossing it that way, much less accurately enough to hit its target, but the Empress was no longer an ordinary beast. The Storm-bear roared fruitlessly as the spear drove into its shoulder, the tip snapped off in the wound while the rest of the pole flew off across the clearing. The Bear then tried to toss a branch at the Empress. It went less than a dozen feet. It was hilarious to watch though.
The Greck did something like a laugh, but sounded like a bark. It picked up another spear and hefted it almost threateningly. What am I watching? Tsorn wondered to himself. The Storm-bear stomped, and shook its coat, the hairs spiking with charge. The Greck threw its projectile, which the bear swatted from the air, splintering the wood into a dozen pieces, before charging. The drake, obviously pleased with herself over the spear-throwing was unprepared for the Bear's attack. She began to dodge, but at the edge of Tsorn's stake pit, slipped, her back feet losing their grip, it was the same leg that had limped after the fall, which Tsorn had hit with his spear. Her speed worked against her, and the rest of her feet, slipped from the loss of coordination. She got quickly mired in the mess of vines and branches left from Tsorn's maze. The impediment lasted less than a few seconds.
One chance was all the Storm-bear needed. Closing the distance, in a few strides, his claws crushed the Greck to the ground and sunk between her scales. His maw seized her at her right shoulder; he'd been aiming for her crown, but reflexively she dodged. Rolling onto her side she furiously counterattacked, her speed doing considerable damage in just a few seconds, her claws raking him up and down his back legs and lowed belly. Snaps of electricity attacking her every place their bodies connected, though soon the Bear's charge was depleted. He still had size on his side, and by pulling out one of his claws he immobilized her backside with one tremendous blow sinking his claws in again. If things continued like this, Tsorn saw his prize being lost. Whistling, he ran forward tossing a bomb he'd made for just this case. It was a little of the burning sap left over from earlier, in case the bear was more than the Empress could handle. Pulling the snap fuse, Tsorn tossed it against the Bear's back, just as it exploded, covering the bear in flaming goo. Without the drake's resistance to fire, the trick worked much better. The Bear roared again in confusion and terror as it realized it was on fire. At the same time Leon swooped down and clawed at the Bear's face. The Bear snapped his head back and forth and Leon careened off limply.
"Leon!" Tsorn screamed. The Bear seemed to see Tsorn for the first time and turned, more than three times the boy's height, and a hundred times his weight, it was like being seen by an angry mountain. There was such fury in the bear's eyes, and Tsorn could feel the air charged with electricity, even a twenty strides away.
Then the Empress was there, on the Bear's back, biting down on his neck. Blood gushed, splashing down on Tsorn like molten lead. He opened his mouth to scream but found it filled with thick, burning iron. The monsters were falling towards him, and he scrambled to get away, slipping in the thick mud and fire. Something heavy hit him from behind and threw himself forward so as to not be crushed by. It threw him a dozen feet, through mud and water and blood.
Rolling up for his life, hands up defensively, Tsorn looked just in time to see the Greck brutally finish the bear off, the crown glowing bright as the sun. No longer greenish-brown, the Empress glistening ruby, her drake's hide covered in blood, reflecting in the light of her crown and the shine of the midday sun.
Standing on top of the Storm-bear, Tsorn was certain there was no greater power than an Emperor drake. There was no contest of who held the strongest title. Tsorn knelt there waiting for the Empress to descend the Bear and kill him. He was too weak to put up a fight, not against something that powerful. But as the Empress turned towards Tsorn, her leg slipped and she fell from the bear's back, landing in the clearing with hard crash.
Too tired to even roll over, her breathing was slow and labored.
Tsorn could barely believe it. Trembling he moved towards her. He couldn't feel his left side anymore. His whole back throbbed, his ankle creaked, and he barely had enough strength in his hand to keep his balance. His whole heart jumped as the drake flopped into its belly, its eyes turning slowly towards Tsorn. For all their weariness, a strong will remained, defiance was still there; as though it could kill Tsorn with its mind alone. But even a few feet away, it couldn't raise a claw to swing at him. By the way its haunches still lay twisted the way it fell, its back was broken, probably by that blow the bear had given him. Tsorn looked over at the bear. Its head alone was almost as tall as Tsorn, its fangs as long as his arm, lay closed for good, still pressed into the clay where the drake had forced it. Tsorn would never have set up this fight if he'd know how big the bear was. There should have been signs but Tsorn had been to focused on the Empress, on his prize to think things through properly. He didn't have time to think it through. He came too close to losing his prize.
The Drake rumbled as Tsorn reached out and touched its crown. Given enough time, the drake would fully heal, given an intact crown. Something about the miraculous composition of the fluid inside, granted powerful abilities, like regeneration back from near death. It was these properties that drove Tsorn so far. As he examined the crown his heart broke. Along the backside, the crown had cracked, and was leaking its precious fluid over the Drake's back. He put his hand out to stop the flow, but could only stand the burning heat of it for a few seconds. He tried to stem the flow with his shirt and then collect a pool in his leather jerkin, but everything it touched melted, sluicing away, along with Tsorn's hopes. Frustrated he pounded the drake's side. The Empress rumbled angrily.
Falling desperately to sit against the monster, only vaguely away of the teeth just a few feet away that would have torn him to shreds if they could.
The Emperor's Mantle, as the liquid was called, had powerful healing abilities. Able to bring men back from the brink of certain death. Able to cure any disease. Rulers the world over payed kingdoms to bath in the stuff, said to grant decades even centuries to one's life and endow them with powers mortals could only dream of. And here it was draining into the dust. Tsorn laughed as the stuff flowed over his shoulders. Laughed as he cried.
The Empress would be dead within the day. No drake survived a cracked crown. Tsorn stood sudden and aggressively and began pounding at the crown's base. It was thick and hard like a goat's horn, too thick for Tsorn's to break. It was trumendously strong, it probably cracked when the Storm-bear tried to bite down on the drake's neck, but even that amount of power had only cracked it. He pulled out the long steel wire he'd brought for this purpose and began to wind it around the crown. The Crown rose out of the drake's head like horn, but ballooned out into a majestic crescent shape, but even at its base it was as large around as Tsorn's torso. At full strength and without it leaking, the cutting would have taken four hours, but at the rate the Mantel was leaking, he didn't have a quarter of that time.
He stopped, hands trembling, looking at the terrible scene. The blood of the two beasts literally covered everything in the once idyllic meadow. What beauty there had been had been trampled in their fight. The stream that ran through the valley was now clogged, red, and muddy. The carcasses, the rot, the traps he'd all set up; desolation he'd caused for his goal. Tsorn looked at himself, also covered in blood. He though about how far he'd gone the last few months. He looked over at where Leon lay, still motionless where he'd landed after getting caught by the bear.
Was it worth it? All this to save one man? Tsorn's father always insisted a man shouldn't fear death, nor complain when it came; the life of a hunter was knowing one's place in the cycle. Tsorn had gone so far outside that cycle he could barely see the path anymore. All to divert fate for one man who was already at peace with his own demise. Tsorn hobbled over to Leon.
The little wyrm was alive, but only barely. The Bear had bitten down on Leon's left side, almost severing the wing at the shoulder, and crushing his side. Gently Tsorn picked up his companion and carried it over to the Empress, laying him in the little pool of Mantel that had gathered at the base of the drake's skull. In the liquid, Tsorn pulled the wing together and using the remaining hem of his shirt began to bind the wound together. The effect was immediate, the wound sealing up as Tsorn watched. He continued to bath the wyrm in the liquid, slowly reviving his companion. As Leon came alive again, Tsorn could feel tears of joy burning in his eyes.
"Thank you, I'm so sorry, thank you so much," He said hugging the Empress' crown. He pressed his hands into the crack, ignoring the pain of the heat. The Mantle leaking out was felt boiling, but Tsorn gritted his teeth, and bore it. It took him a second to realize he was using both hands equally, not having noticed when the pain in his arm went away. But with both hands he was able to hold the crack closed for a moment, stemming the draining, and prolonging the drake's life. He thought as hard as he'd ever thought in his life. But every way he thought about it, he couldn't think of a way to seal up the crack. By this time, nearly everything he had been wearing had melted away, so he didn't have so much as a bootstrap to stuff in the hole. Even the binding around Leon had liquified, though now there was enough flesh to hold itself together.
Tsorn knew he didn't deserve it, but he wished for a miracle, wished there were some way he could fix what he'd done. And a few seconds later he had one. The crack had closed. Not totally, maybe only a few centimeters, but Tsorn was certain it was smaller than it had been. There was hope, even if just a seed. As long as Tsorn held the burning fluid in with his hands, he could save the monster's life.
It was more painful than anything Tsorn had ever felt. It cooked the flesh in his fingers to the bone. But if, just if, he could fix just one thing... Trying harder to stem the crack, he pressed his hands into the burning flow, the sticky substance flowing down his forearms and chest.
The way he pressed up against the Drake's body to get at the crack on the backside of the crown meant he made a perfect conduit for the liquid's flow, wrapping around his body as it slid down to the mud. It felt as though he was dying, being cooked, basted alive, though in a poetic way, he kind of deserved it. He didn't care about the pain, it was so intense it almost felt unreal. He just hoped that maybe there would be enough Mantle to save the Empress' life.
Her breathing was slower now. Besides the Crown's crack, she was also bleeding profusely from the claw and bite marks around her body. But all that was secondary to her Mantel.
Slowly, ever so slowly the crack did close. It was almost night by that time, and Tsorn was so exhausted he could barely stand. Gingerly he pulled his hands away, making sure it really wasn't leaking anymore. With more relief than ever before in his life, he stepped back. He was so tired he literally lay down right there and fell asleep, the mess of the battle still covering him.
He woke the next morning, the smell more terrible than anything. He wanted to go back to sleep but there was too much to put right.
He walking the forest gathering healing herbs for a salve, along with clean clay from upstream. He brought them back to the clearing where he began to put these in the Drake's wounds. The bleeding had stopped mostly already but it felt necessary. If enough Mantle remained to keep her alive, the wounds would be fine, but he couldn't stop himself. When there was nothing left for him to do, he picked up Leon, who had almost fully recovered though deathly tired, and started home.
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