Ginar the First

Ginar the First

by

Terri Kouba

Copyright © 2011 Terri Kouba

All rights reserved.

Smashwords edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

It leapt at her. She waited until she felt its claws stir her hair and she rolled to her right. The creature tried to follow, but gravity is a strong master. The stake she had secured in the ground pierced the creature's throat as it fell upon it. Harowood, sharpened to a point, ringed with triangular metal edges, tore through the creature's throat and changed its ear-splitting scream into a sickening, blood-filled gurgle.

She rolled through the mud and jumped to her feet, her left foot sinking deep into a bog past her ankle.

Where was the other one?

The soggy bushes to her left rustled. She shook the rain out of her eyes. A twig snapped behind her. She pulled her foot out of the muck and tapped it, searching for solid ground. A flash caught her eye. She turned her head slightly to the right.

Four of them?

She had thought she had been tracking only three. She had never fought four at the same time.

Well, only three of them remained now.

She danced lightly from foot to foot, feeling out the ground, marking in her mind where it was semi-solid and where she found soft pockets of mud. She turned in a circle, trying to see which creature was closest, which was most likely to attack her first, which had the maddest gleam of rage in its eyes. She could hardly see the trees at the edge of the clearing through the downpour.

Two creatures leapt at once, one on either side of her.

They're getting smarter, she thought as she squatted and brought her arms straight out in the direction from which the creatures came.

They are starting to fight together, in concert.

In each hand she held a wooden spear. She pointed them in the direction of the leaping creatures and realized her mistake. The fourth creature burst from the thick clot of huckleberry bushes directly in front of her. If she moved her hands now, the creatures coming from the left and right would not receive a killing blow and would live at least long enough to kill her. If she waited until they fell upon the sharpened spears, the creature in front of her would extend its claws and rip open her belly.

She considered stepping backwards, but she knew their reach. The creatures limbs could swing out three feet and they could extend their claws another foot after that. She would not be able to move back, far enough, fast enough, to escape her death.

She tightened her grip as she felt the weight of the creatures as they fell upon the spears. She felt their full weight upon her arms, felt the wooden spears with metal tips tear through the creature's well-shielded bodies. She loosened her grip enough to keep the spear straight but not so tight that her wrists would snap under the creature's weight.

She smelled the breath of the fourth creature on her face. It smelled of death.

She fell to her knees. She flipped her hood, ringed with the same metal triangles as her spears, over her head and lowered her head to her knees. She pulled her arms, and the creatures impaled upon them forward, between her body and the oncoming creature. She felt a muscle in her left shoulder tear under the strain. She hoped to gain enough time to pull another spear from her pack. Or maybe she could stab it with her boot knife. Or cut it with her elbow slicer.

She felt the creature plow through its kind and into her, pushing her over onto her back. Its weight crushed down upon her. She closed her eyes and waited for it to rip out her exposed throat.

And nothing.

She heard rain pound in the puddle that oozed into her ear and down her collar, but nothing else. Not the creature's snarl, not the sound of her bones breaking, not the sound of her flesh being torn from her body, not the sharp clack of metal against metal. She heard nothing but the rain.

Thunder clapped, rattling the ground beneath her. She opened her eyes and stared into the jaw of the creature. Rain dripped onto her chin from its two rows of jagged metal teeth. Her eyes settled on a thick arrow jutting from the side of the creature's body. By Kol it was dead.

She squirmed out from underneath the dead beast, the top layer of her clothes shredding against the creature's metal scales. She pulled two more spears into her trembling hands, turned in a circle and peered through the heavy rain for the source of the arrow that had saved her life. There was no guarantee another arrow, just like the first, wasn't already on its way to her own heart.

She kept the spears in front of her to throw or defend as needed.

I won't hurt you.

She spun to her left and squared herself to face the large man entering the clearing. He held his hands up to show he had no weapons in his palms but he wasn't weaponless. She counted at least six more arrows in his quiver, two knives on each leg and the covering on his right forearm pressed tightly against a bulge that was missing from his left. A short bow dangled from his left elbow.

Who are you? She had to shout to be heard over another peal of thunder.

The man looked up and stopped. You're a woman. He quickly lowered his head again so the rim of his hat kept the rain out of his eyes.

She lowered her spears slightly but kept them at the ready.

Tell me your name. The lids of her eyes lowered partially. She watched the man in front of her and remembered at the same time. She pulled to the front of her thoughts the voice that haunted her dreams and compared it to the sounds of the man who spoke now. She filtered out the rain and listened to his pitch, his tone, his accent, both yearning it would match and yet dreading it just might.

I am Byurn the Forty-Fifth of Ostow.

She was as far north as Ostow already?

These are my father's lands upon which you find yourself; his forests through which you travel. He flipped a short braid of blonde hair tied in leather strips over his shoulder. He jutted out his strong chin.

She moved quickly to lower and secure her spears in the holster on her back. His voice did not match the voice she heard in her head. It was close. The clipped inflection was that of a Northerner but he was not the one whom she sought. It was just as well. She would not have wanted to kill the man who had just saved her life.

She cleared her throat. Well met, Forty-five. May your family line reach fifty.

She reached for the axe dangling from her belt and knelt before the creature he had killed. She carefully picked its front paw up out of the mud and sliced the still body open from chin to tail. Its slimy innards spilled into the mud and floated in a murky puddle.

She looked up and caught the surprised look on his face. Your arrow is well timed and well cast.

She reached inside the creature's belly, cracked the bone cage surrounding its heart and yanked out the cold, red muscle with a jerk.

He stood with his shoulders back as if he was trying to make his shoulder blades touch in the middle of his back. And your name?

She had offended him with her rudeness. A person never began a conversation with a stranger before announcing his or her name. Her father would be appalled. She shook her head slightly. Those were the old rules, born when the world could afford to be polite. The price of that luxury was too high in this new world that was drenched by rain.

I have no name.

Her eyes never left the heart she held in her hand. After all this time it still surprised her how cold its heart was. Even her fingers, chilled to the bone by the damp weather, were warmer than the still-beating icy heart. The beats slowed and finally subsided.

Oh come on. Everyone...

She cut him off without looking at him. I had a name once. It was a different lifetime. In this life, I have no name.

She removed her head covering and let the rain fall upon her head. It cleaned her tangled, cropped hair and ran down her back inside her cloak. It both cooled and chilled her.

And what is it that brings you deep into the woods, Byurn the Forty-Fifth? she asked casually, as if they were sitting on a bench in front of a warm fire, talking about how to whittle a pipe and sipping on warm mead.

Byurn stood near her and pointed. Him, he said solemnly.

It, she corrected.

I tracked him for three days, finally caught up with him here. Imagine my surprise when I found three more. And another hunter.

It, she corrected him again. She moved to the second beast and split it like the first.

What are you doing?

She looked up at him. This is your first kill. She wasn't asking a question.

He nodded. They entered my father's lands two weeks ago. But we had heard about them for two months, from those who came to us, fleeing from the animals.

The woman snorted. You know nothing of these creatures. You've heard only the ramblings of frightened old women. She reached inside, cracked the bone that protected the heart and pulled it out.

For starters, these are not animals. They were not formed by Kol's hands. And it's neither a he nor a she. She held up its hind leg. They have no reproductive organs.

Byurn bent closer. That's impossible. All animals must reproduce in order to survive.

The woman scoffed. These are not animals, she repeated. She slit the belly of the third creature and removed its heart.

Keep that one intact. Byurn pointed to the first creature she had killed. Its only injury was a spear through its throat.

She pulled out the stake and tossed it into a puddle. She would clean it and check it for fractures later.

I'm taking that one back with me, he said.

These are not for trophies, Byurn the Forty-Fifth.

He scowled. It's not for me and it's not a trophy. It's for my friend Tomkin. He needs to study it.

She thought for a moment and then shrugged. She picked up the creature's leg and made a small slit. I'll do my best not to disturb the remaining organs, but I must remove the heart.

Now who wants a trophy?

She rose to her feet and stared at him while she blinked rainwater from her eyes. She set the heart on a nearby rock and the heavy rain rinsed it clean.

She removed her spiked gloves and set them next to the knife on the rock. She removed her elbow and knee coverings, careful not to poke herself on the three sharp points that jutted out of each protective shield. The pile on the rock grew.

She pulled a knife from a holster on her thigh and sliced a third of the heart muscle away. It fell into a puddle. She opened a slit through the middle of the heart muscle and stared at the man in front of her. He knew so little. Was she like that at one time? She stuck her fingers into the center of the muscle. She pulled the heart apart. Bits of muscle dropped into the mud around the base of the rock. She pulled out the center of the heart, placed it on her palm and held it up so the rain would rinse it clean. She felt power that emanated from it. It made her arm up to her elbow burn under its intensity.

Byurn leaned closer. What is that? he whispered.

She handed it to him, glad to be rid of it.

They are not Kol's animals. They are not from nature at all.

She watched him turn the statue over and over in his hands. He ran his fingers over its tiny head, down its haunches, to hook under its tail. He set the statue in his other hand and shook his right. She knew his right hand tingled from holding the statue. The statue was the size of Byurn's palm. The statue's ears touched the webbing between his index and middle finger and its tail barely touched his wrist.

She wished someone had been there to tell her what she was telling Byurn now. It was the only decent way to learn.

They are not born, she began. They are forged. Through dark powers beyond my ability to understand, they become real. They live. They breathe. They eat.

She shivered and took the statue from his hand.

They feel rage and they kill.

She placed it on a flat rock. She picked up a large rock in both hands and brought it crashing down on the flat rock, crushing the statue.

A purple light burst out in a flash. A loud boom exploded in their ears. An invisible force more powerful than a gale-force wind knocked them off their feet.

Byurn rolled over and shook his head. He stared at the wet woman who sat in the mud next to him.

Until you separate the hearts from the body, the bodies can mend their wounds, she said. Even fatal wounds. They heal themselves, re-grow body parts, all so they can kill again. And again. And again.

She rose to her feet and placed the second statue on the rock. She smashed the large rock against the statue. The striking motion was followed by a flash of purple light, a boom and she was again knocked off her feet.

She cleared her throat. And until you destroy the center, the evil inside the vessel will infect whatever it touches.

She shook the rain out of her eyes. I have seen the most honest, upstanding men become savage killers, murdering their own children, burning their friends inside their homes. She flexed her wrist. The evil inside is powerful. Come. She motioned for Byurn to move closer.

She yanked four limp leaves off an elephant bush and piled them on the rock. She reached down and snapped off a metal scale from the back of one of the creatures, careful not to slice her fingers on the razor-sharp edges. She held the third statue over the leaves and cut into its leg. A dark liquid oozed out and fell in large drops upon the leaves.

They watched as the viscous liquid acted like an acid. It burned through the leaves and ate away at the rock. No amount of rain could wash it away or dilute it. She quickly dropped the statue and brought the rock down, crushing it. They again found themselves sitting in puddles.

What is that?

The woman shook her head. I'm not wise enough to know what it is. But I know it is powerful. And I know it is evil. And I know I will hunt it until I find the source, until I find the man who forges these creatures that Kol has forsaken. And then I will kill that man. I will cut out his heart and rid the world of his creatures. She reached for the fourth statue.

Byurn grabbed her forearm. No. I must take that to Tomkin.

She felt the heat from his hand emanate through her clothes and into her cold skin. She stared at his hand for a moment, blinking quickly. She had not felt the touch of another human being in over four months. He was so close. He was tall, more than seven inches taller than she. His shoulders were broader than her husband's, but their waists were about the same width. His hands were large and he was able to wrap his fingers completely around her forearm. Still, she knew she could kill him in less time than it took for him to blink. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself.

Have you not been listening to me? She yanked her arm out of his grip. She held up the statue so he could see it. The rain flowed across it. It gleamed and shimmered. This is a vessel. And inside... Her throat caught. She swallowed and pursed her lips.

Inside is an evil so strong, so pure, that rocks turn to dust beneath it. Her voice was lower. Whoever conjures these creatures has found a way to grab hold of evil and squeeze it so tight that he can press it into a tincture. He fills these statues with that evil tincture and places them inside a bag filled with bones and fur and metal. The evil is so strong that it animates that dead matter, mimicking life. It turns disparate objects in killing machines, into savage marauders.

She took a ragged breath. Her toes trembled inside her boots. The evil inside is powerful. And it is not contained by the wood. It seeps. She looked away quickly and knew she had said too much.

Byurn looked at her. She glanced at him and saw realization sweep across his face. He leaned against the rock. Water dripped from the brim of his hat. Tell me, he said gently, nodding his head once.

She closed her eyes and sighed. She meant to tell him how to kill the creatures and how to make them stay dead. She meant to tell him how to destroy the vessel. But she didn't mean to tell him as much as he asked.

She set the statue on the rock. It looked like a child's toy, carelessly left out in the rain, like a statue of a cat that her husband had once carved for their first son. Coming upon it, no one would have ever guessed it held evil incarnate. It made her skin itch.

The thirteenth creature I killed sliced my leg before I chopped off its head. She leaned against the rock next to Byurn. The rain felt cool against her hot, burning face.

I had to find dry peat to start a fire, so I could boil some water, so I could clean the wound before I bandaged it. You know how wet it is. It took me a while to find some dry peat.

She clasped her hands together tightly.

I had just finished wrapping my leg when I saw it move, the creature I had just killed. She stared into the trees across the muddy forest clearing. The copse was dying. The green leaves were wilted. The bark at the base of the tree was covered in a spongy, grey mold.

At first I guessed I had lost more blood than I had thought, that I was hallucinating. Then I looked more closely and saw that the creature had a new head.

She pushed away from the rock. She couldn't be still while she spoke. These words today were more words than she had spoken in all of the last four months combined. She knelt in front of the closest dead creature and pulled out her axe again. She brought it down heavily and cut off the creature's right front paw. Her shoulder ached where she had strained her muscle.

I fought it again and killed it again.

She pulled six silver claws out of the wide paw. Only an inch or two showed out of the fur but when she pulled them out the claws were eight to twelve inches long. She held one up for him to see. They can extend their claws. She set to work on the second paw.

After I killed it a second time, I chopped it up into pieces but still the pieces rejoined and the creature reanimated. I killed it again before it regained its feet. Then I chopped it into even smaller pieces, no larger than my fist, and buried it in separate graves scattered across a field.

She moved to the third paw.

That's when I found the statue.

She shook her head in memory.