The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(37)

The man stared up at the monster in sheer, stunned terror and let loose a horrible high-pitched scream. Paxton wanted to cover his ears against it. The youngest Zandalee woman jumped in front of the man with a wild shout, brandishing a hooked dagger. To Paxton’s confusion, the beast paused, sniffed the air, and then whacked her aside with the back of its paw. She cartwheeled, airborne. Paxton could see how she was about to land and the angle of her knife, but there was nothing he could do. Her dagger pierced straight through her gut as she fell. The Zandalee girl seized for a moment before going still.

The monster grabbed the screaming man with both massive paws and shoved his waist into its gaping mouth. It held the screaming man between its teeth as it bounded away on all fours, into the dark woods. The bloodcurdling cries lessened and became fainter, but never stopped, echoing through the forest.

Paxton numbed himself to the revulsion of it, forcing himself to think straight. He ignored Tiern’s objections and stood, his torso banded by bruises already. “We have to follow it.”

“You’re not well enough,” Tiern said. “Stay here.”

“Wait!” Panic flooded Paxton’s body as he watched his brother sprint into the trees with Harrison, Samuel, Zandora, and a Kalorian. He followed at a pathetic pace, and made it a quarter of a mile before he fell panting against a tree, holding his ribs. When he caught his breath he moved again, this time only at a jogging pace. He’d never felt so worthless, but he couldn’t stop. Not while Tiern was out there with the beast.

As sounds of the rushing nearby river became apparent, Paxton heard voices. Tiern and the three others came running into his sight and stopped when they saw him, except for Zandora, who rushed on to tend to the injured huntress.

“By the depths, Paxton, are you mad?” Tiern said with a scowl of disbelief. “You shouldn’t have followed! Look at you, bleeding everywhere!”

“Where is the beast?” he asked.

“It ran into the river and submersed itself,” Harrison said, shaking his head. “The beast dived in like a bear and we never saw it come back up. It took the man with it.”

What an awful way to go.

“So, the beast can swim,” Paxton thought. Prints they’d found by the water had led him to believe it was a possibility, but he’d hoped the beast was land dwelling only. Now he knew why it was so hard to find and trap.

“Come on,” Tiern said. He lifted Paxton’s arm across his shoulder, making him wince. “Let’s get you back to the castle.”

“Daylight is coming,” Harrison said, nodding up at the lightening sky.

Samuel and the Kalorian ran ahead to inform the others and help the injured back to royal lands.

“The beast has a weakness,” Paxton said. Ignoring his pains, he walked as quickly as he could, clutching his arm.

Harrison and Tiern both nodded and said, in sync, “Its neck.”

Problem was, the beast’s head was like a boar’s—it hardly had a neck to speak of. Its head slumped down to its shoulders and only raised slightly when it roared.

“One of the Kalorian men said they’d slashed across its throat when they first attacked it,” Harrison explained. “That’s why it was running. It’d been injured.”

“Good,” Pax said. The beast was stronger than he could have possibly imagined, but at least it had a weakness.

That, at least, was a start.











Chapter


16


Eight-year-old Stephon had learned to be the first one out of the schoolhouse each day, and to run like the wind through the soybean fields, all the way to their lean-to hidden in the forest. As the son of a registered Lashed in Rambling Brook of Lochlanach, it was never a good idea to dawdle. But this day he’d had to stay behind at his teacher’s request.

Her lips were pursed as they stood before the class’s small aquarium where baby rainbow trout floated belly-up. “Did you kill the fish, Stephon?”

The boy shook his matted head insistently. “No, ma’am.”

“You know the rules. You are not to touch any living thing in this class. Your gloves are to stay on at all times in this room.”

“I understand, miss. I promise I didn’t touch it. And . . . I’m not Lashed.”

Her lips pursed tighter. “So you and your mother say.”

The boy’s chest filled with the heat of shame and frustration. He dropped his head and mumbled. “I saw the other boys poking it with a stick.”

“It is not proper to tell lies and blame innocent people when you choose not to take responsibility for your actions. The other children told me they saw you.” Her voice filled with a scary sort of satisfaction. “Take off your gloves, Stephon.”

He knew what she wanted. She wanted to see lash marks. He slowly pulled off the thin gloves and held out his hands. His teacher backed away to a safe distance, then bent slightly to get a closer look. She frowned at the sight of his clean, unmarked nails, and stood tall again. “Leave. And stay away from the fish tanks from now on.”

Stephon pulled his gloves back on and grabbed his bag, rushing from the room. A quick glance around the schoolhouse showed that the other children had gone home. He ran through the long grass until he hit the village’s main path, which would lead to the soybean fields by his house. As he turned a corner at the Reefpoole farm, he slid in the gravel, almost crashing into two women in his path.