of Prûsan cursing and the smell of blood. Even if he could make no sense of the chaos in front of him, he saw enough to understand that they fought more than a bloodthirsty monster.
It was a beast that knew enough of tactics to fall back into the corridor after smashing the door. The greater part of the Prûsan guards had fallen in after it, into a space too enclosed and dark to fight effectively against even a normal enemy.
Günter gripped the useless dagger, ordering his men to fall back into the granary, where the open floor might give them a chance. But his shouts were nearly inaudible for the sound of clashing metal and screaming men.
From beyond the melee, a crossbow bolt struck the stone near Günter’s head, striking sparks.
No, wait until you see a target
.
A man fell near Günter, anonymous in the dark. The man groaned briefly before he stopped moving. Günter reached for him, to drag him to the safety of the stairwell, but as he grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled, he had the sickening realization that the weight only amounted to half a body.
He fought his gorge and stepped out of the stairwell, past the dead man, toward the rapidly disintegrating melee. He saw the silhouettes of two more bodies strike the walls to either side of the corridor, and he saw the clear, hunched form of the monster standing unobstructed in front of the doorway.
Günter charged, too late, at the creature’s back. As he moved forward, he heard a crossbow fire and a howl filled the chamber unlike any sound Günter had heard from the throat of man or beast. The wolf-thing in front of him charged out of the doorwayjust as Günter struck. The blow that should have sunk the silver dagger into a vital part of its neck instead had Günter tearing at the air, losing his balance, and tumbling onto the splintered wreckage of the door.
He looked up and saw the lupine demon clearly in the light of the granary; rippling muscle, blood-red fur, claws, and gore-drenched muzzle all closing on the two men still standing, Oytim and Tulne. Both were at the far side of the granary, holding crossbows. Oytim still had a bolt nocked. It had been Tulne who had fired the bolt buried in the beast’s shoulder, and he was desperately trying to reload the crossbow as the creature charged.
As Günter scrambled to his feet, the creature descended on Tulne. The massive red-furred back hid Tulne from Günter’s view, but the man’s scream was cut short before he hit the ground.
Günter ran, jumping over broken timbers and broken bodies while, in front of him, the beast turned its snarling, gory muzzle toward Oytim.
Oytim fired the crossbow up, into the creature’s face. Less than two paces away, the bolt tore into the creature’s head. The beast screamed as it clutched its face, the howl torn free from the throat of Hell.
Günter was halfway to them when the creature grabbed Oytim by the throat with its free hand and tossed the man aside like a rag doll. He hit the side of one of the grain bins with enough force to crack the wood. He fell to the ground and did not move.
Günter stopped because the creature was whipping around wildly and howling, one hand clutching the side of its face, the other thrashing blindly around. It was frenzied, lashing out with a reach half again as long as Günter’s.
All he had was a single silver dagger.
He stood just out of reach, praying that Oytim’s shot was true and had pierced its eye, putting a killing shot into its brain.
But Günter’s gods were deaf.
The creature slowly stopped howling, and stopped its wild thrashing. To Günter’s horror, the creature lowered its hand and looked at him with
two
green eyes. Oytim’s shot had been too high, too far to the right, and at too steep an angle. The shot had cracked the bone, but had been deflected by the curve of the monster’s skull and didn’t penetrate. Blood streamed down the creature’s face from the gory wound, but it was neither dead nor dying.
It
It was a beast that knew enough of tactics to fall back into the corridor after smashing the door. The greater part of the Prûsan guards had fallen in after it, into a space too enclosed and dark to fight effectively against even a normal enemy.
Günter gripped the useless dagger, ordering his men to fall back into the granary, where the open floor might give them a chance. But his shouts were nearly inaudible for the sound of clashing metal and screaming men.
From beyond the melee, a crossbow bolt struck the stone near Günter’s head, striking sparks.
No, wait until you see a target
.
A man fell near Günter, anonymous in the dark. The man groaned briefly before he stopped moving. Günter reached for him, to drag him to the safety of the stairwell, but as he grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled, he had the sickening realization that the weight only amounted to half a body.
He fought his gorge and stepped out of the stairwell, past the dead man, toward the rapidly disintegrating melee. He saw the silhouettes of two more bodies strike the walls to either side of the corridor, and he saw the clear, hunched form of the monster standing unobstructed in front of the doorway.
Günter charged, too late, at the creature’s back. As he moved forward, he heard a crossbow fire and a howl filled the chamber unlike any sound Günter had heard from the throat of man or beast. The wolf-thing in front of him charged out of the doorwayjust as Günter struck. The blow that should have sunk the silver dagger into a vital part of its neck instead had Günter tearing at the air, losing his balance, and tumbling onto the splintered wreckage of the door.
He looked up and saw the lupine demon clearly in the light of the granary; rippling muscle, blood-red fur, claws, and gore-drenched muzzle all closing on the two men still standing, Oytim and Tulne. Both were at the far side of the granary, holding crossbows. Oytim still had a bolt nocked. It had been Tulne who had fired the bolt buried in the beast’s shoulder, and he was desperately trying to reload the crossbow as the creature charged.
As Günter scrambled to his feet, the creature descended on Tulne. The massive red-furred back hid Tulne from Günter’s view, but the man’s scream was cut short before he hit the ground.
Günter ran, jumping over broken timbers and broken bodies while, in front of him, the beast turned its snarling, gory muzzle toward Oytim.
Oytim fired the crossbow up, into the creature’s face. Less than two paces away, the bolt tore into the creature’s head. The beast screamed as it clutched its face, the howl torn free from the throat of Hell.
Günter was halfway to them when the creature grabbed Oytim by the throat with its free hand and tossed the man aside like a rag doll. He hit the side of one of the grain bins with enough force to crack the wood. He fell to the ground and did not move.
Günter stopped because the creature was whipping around wildly and howling, one hand clutching the side of its face, the other thrashing blindly around. It was frenzied, lashing out with a reach half again as long as Günter’s.
All he had was a single silver dagger.
He stood just out of reach, praying that Oytim’s shot was true and had pierced its eye, putting a killing shot into its brain.
But Günter’s gods were deaf.
The creature slowly stopped howling, and stopped its wild thrashing. To Günter’s horror, the creature lowered its hand and looked at him with
two
green eyes. Oytim’s shot had been too high, too far to the right, and at too steep an angle. The shot had cracked the bone, but had been deflected by the curve of the monster’s skull and didn’t penetrate. Blood streamed down the creature’s face from the gory wound, but it was neither dead nor dying.
It