Against the Beast Read online

  “Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t have Healing Powers, and I’m not an Elf. They could help you, but I just don’t have the power.”

  The man grabbed Royn by the shoulders, pulling him close. “Leave me, boy! Those...things could come back to finish me at any point. You need to run, kid. Get out of here while you can!”

  “I can’t do that, sir; I’m going to stop whatever is doing this. Can you tell me who it was—what did this to you?”

  All color left the man’s face. “I don’t know what it’s called, but the devil himself is afoot.”

  The leaves rustled slightly ahead of him. The man convulsed, grabbed Royn’s collar, then whispered, voice shaking, “It’s come back! Flee! Run for your life!”

  Royn teleported in a flash of blue fifty yards up into one of the nearest trees, the leaves hiding his reemerging blue light. Breathing hard, he searched the foliage, finally finding the dying man, crawling as fast as he could away from the noise, trailing a line of blood, staining the ground crimson. Seconds ticked by when nothing was heard but labored breath, the rest of the forest gone silent.

  As if it knew an alpha predator was present.

  Draped in the shadow of a dark cloak, the creature emerged, appeared in an instant, stalking its prey. Sniffing the air like a hound, it zeroed in on the now-frantic man, a forked tongue flicking in and out. Royn sucked in a breath.

  Its head snapped his way. Holy crap, Royn had made no sound! Just breathed! He didn’t dare let it out as he stared into the empty eye sockets of the Skeptor. A dog-like mouth overflowing with teeth stuck out of the hood of the cloak. Royn could hear its rattling breath as the menacing creature searched for him, head twitching left and right.

  The injured man groaned. With a snarl, the Skeptor turned back, leaping on the man from where it stood, teeth sinking into his neck. The man let out a garbled scream. With a quick twist and a snap from the beast, the man’s limbs fell still. The Skeptor released him, and then shot his gaze back at where Royn hid. He knows something’s here—but he doesn’t know what.

  The canine-like creature took its time eating its meal while Royn was forced to watch. He had no choice; any move or sound would alert the apex predator below to his presence. Blood and bones slowly scattered around the body, the ground stained with the life of the villager. Every so often the Skeptor would jerk his up and look in Royn’s direction. When the moment passed, the Skeptor went back to eating. Royn waited a long time for the thing to finish, nerves on end. When it did, there wasn’t any flesh on the bones.

  Apparently satisfied, the Skeptor licked the blood off its teeth.

  And it screamed. Leaves fell to the ground, the branch under Royn vibrated slightly at the sheer volume. “Bubble,” Royn thought, forming a small pocket of air around his head to keep his ear drums from exploding. The Skeptor stopped its wail after twenty seconds and looked around, disappointed that nothing had shown itself.

  It made like it was walking away, then suddenly rounded a tree and faced its back trail. Royn never moved.

  Turning, it made to leave again, but reached down and grabbed some rocks, throwing them in all directions.

  That was the last straw for a nearby rabbit. It jumped up, darting between the brush in a frantic rush to escape. But the Skeptor was quicker, thrusting its hand, sending a pulse of yellow energy which exploded on the poor bunny, blowing it to smithereens.

  Grunting, it turned to follow yet another trail. It ambled along, seemingly unaware. It’s baiting me again. It knows someone is here, but he can’t find me. Royn let it go. Just before it rounded the bend, it shot one last look his way, then swept its black cloak around itself and was gone.

  Holy cow, that was close—too close. So what now? Go back to base? No, that’s out of the question. Follow it? That’s what a real Ranger would do. But could he? This was his first assignment, and now he planned to tail the most dangerous thing on the West Side of the Breaks? Could he actually do it?

  Maybe so. Maybe he could. Maybe all he needed was a chance. Or maybe he’d get killed. But hey, you only die once.

  Decision made, Royn teleported to the last location he saw the Skeptor.

  Chapter 3

  For the better part of two hours, Royn followed the creature, always using his teleport and always keeping out of sight in the treetops. More than once the Skeptor heard the slight popping noise when Royn reappeared, and more than once it had set a trap, lying in wait for the Ranger. But somehow each time—by either luck or skill—Royn remained undetected.

  The whole time Royn’s mind was racing, constantly moving, wondering, despite his focus on stealth. Where was this thing going? What was it doing? For the life of him, Royn couldn’t remember his training on Skeptors. Even if he could, he knew there wasn’t much anyway; their existence was shrouded in mystery. What motivated these things?

  One more flash of blue, and the Skeptor stopped in front of a sheer granite cliff, a hundred feet wide. With wild jungle on one side and a roaring waterfall on the other, the sound of crashing water drowned out the sound of the teleport. What’s it doing? The Skeptor looked around. Even with the hood, it couldn’t conceal the animal-like features, the skeletal frame, and those teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun.

  Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

  Royn tensed, hand going to his sword.

  Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

  What was that? How could he hear it over the falls...

  Hmmmmmmmm. Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Hmmmmm.

  The Skeptor touched the cliff gently with its clawed hand, then with its left, tapped out a pattern on the rock. Three left, two right, one right, two left—damn, I’ve already lost the pattern! An entire minute of taps and humming later, and the cliff disintegrated, revealing two large caves. The openings were identical: black maws like nostrils sucking the air from the little cove. With one more glance around, the creature disappeared into the cave on the left.

  Royn settled down to wait in the fork of a big spruce tree. Odd sounds and light came from the cave, too far back and too faint for him to make out. After ten minutes, the Skeptor emerged again. But something was different. It was slow, leaning heavily on the stone around it, like it was tired or hurt, ready to fall over any second. It made its way to the second cave entrance and disappeared into the blackness again.

  This time there was no light or sound. Just silence in the empty blackness.

  The seconds oozed by, the minutes moving at sloth speed as Royn waited. And waited. Should he risk it? Should he go in the cave with the Skeptor and face it now, while it looked vulnerable? Or was that another trap? Or should he go into the other cave to see what the creature had done? If he found something, who would he tell? Captain Crane? What difference would it make?

  Get over it, Royn. It’s not worth risking your life over. For all you know, the lights could have just been a trap—it knew it was being followed. Don’t be stupid!

  After an hour of debating with himself, he shook his head. He couldn’t not know. With the creature asleep or otherwise preoccupied, this might be the only chance Royn got to figure out what was going on. The thought of going blind into a dark cave to face a Skeptor—even a wounded one—was just too much. First cave it is. Let’s see what the light show was all about.

  Securing anything in his gear that might make the slightest noise, Royn shucked his boots and donned buckskin moccasins. With a deep breath, he ghosted out of the tree.

  Moving at a snail’s pace, every sense turned up past eleven, Royn made his way toward the entrance of the targeted cave. Mouth dry, muscles tensed for action at the slightest hint of danger, he closed the distance until he was at the mouth of the cave. Moist air blew from within, slightly stale, and he hesitated only a second before stepping in. The first dozen yards went without incident, until the first bend in the road shot the place into complete darkness.

  Great. I didn’t want to touch or disturb anything. But a light would be worse. Like a “Come eat me” sign. He had no choice and reach
ed out for the walls. Rough stone met his hands, and he felt his way along for...damn, he didn’t know how long or far! Then a faint light showed further down the tunnel. Royn got closer and closer, and just before he could really see well, something crunched underfoot.

  Flinching and cursing himself, he pressed on, each step making the same noise.

  Slowly the light got brighter and brighter until he saw what he was stepping on. Bones. I’m crunching bones! They covered the floor like a blanket—human and animal mixed without distinction. How long have the Skeptors been here?

  Accepting the unavoidable noise of his footsteps, he looked up to see the source of the light. Jewels. Hundreds and hundreds of them—egg-shaped, the size of a cantaloupe, flawless, and in a rainbow of colors. What are these? The brightness blinded and disoriented Royn after the darkness of the cave, but he made his way closer, eyes fixed on the stones. Each had a swirling center—a constantly spinning vortex that changed speeds randomly. Mesmerizing.

  He cocked his head. He wanted to touch them. Like they were calling to him.

  Royn shook his head. No, bad idea. Bad idea. But he looked again. Hypnotized by a blue stone, he reached out, and ever-so-gently touched the top of it.

  Instantly he was bombarded with images—thousands of images—enough for an entire lifetime. A man. His wife. Kids. Happy home. Screaming. Trying to pull away, he found his finger stuck. He panicked, fear racing through him as the images continued, flashing in front of his eyes like a super-speed movie.

  Then, just as suddenly, they stopped. Royn fell back with a crash and a crunch of bone, both hands on the floor, panting. Memories! Those were the memories of...someone. Good Lord, this thing is stealing people’s energy—their life force—and putting them in these stones. But how?

  Assuming he was right, Royn eyed the closest stone, and a face appeared in the vortex. He did the same to the next. And the next. Each representing a life stolen.

  He looked at one more stone and almost fell over backwards again. It’s James! Royn looked closer, and the face of one of the Army privates swirled into view again. I just saw him this morning! When could this have happened? James was now locked in a stone, unable to get out, unable to move—

  An odd clicking noise froze Royn where he stood. He gulped. This ain’t good.

  Turning, he saw the Skeptor at the entrance to the room, blocking the only exit. The Skeptor looked at Royn, looked at the stones, then back at Royn. It let out an ear-splitting shriek and charged the Ranger.

  Royn himself screamed and teleported just before he was impaled on the lunging Skeptor’s claws. Just like that, he was back at Fort Highway, breathing hard and shaking.

  Chapter 4

  Bursting through the captain’s door, Royn slid to a halt and saluted. “Sir, I found it, sir! The Skeptor is real. I was in its cave. It had a bunch of stones with people trapped in it. It was stealing people’s—”

  “Private,” Captain Crane said, folding his papers and gently laying them on the large wooden desk he sat behind. “I don’t care what you think you saw. I don’t believe you. I think you’re full of it, trying to put fear into my company when really you’re the scared little boy out here in the woods and afraid of the dark!”

  “But, sir, I was in its cave! And one of the stones had James’ face in it!”

  The captain’s eyes bulged, “James? Private James?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Crane hit a button on his desk, “Corporal, where is James?”

  The radio blinked as the corporal responded, “Um, well, we haven’t seen him in a couple hours, sir.”

  “Find him corporal,” the captain said, “Private, take me there.”

  Royn was taken aback, “Sir?”

  “You’re a teleporter right?”

  “Well, yes sir, but—”

  “And we have a missing soldier, right?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “Then take me there. Right now,” he said, standing up and strapping on his sword.

  “Yes, sir.” Royn stepped to the captain, grabbed his shoulder, and teleported...

  To the original spot he’d found the dying villager. Now there was nothing but a slight scorch mark. The captain raised an eyebrow, “No caves?”

  “Sorry sir, this isn’t it. I’ll take you there now.”

  Another flash of blue, and they reappeared in a treetop. But no cave in sight.

  Before the captain could speak again Royn teleported yet again, and again they ended up in a treetop with no cave in sight.

  Ten more times he teleported, and ten more times they came up empty. Finally the captain said, “Enough Ranger, take us back to base.”

  Royn hung his head, “Yes sir.” The world turned blue and they were back in the captain’s office.

  Captain Crane didn’t say anything, he just walked to the closet and said, “I don’t know where James is, but I don’t think he’s trapped in a stone in some cave.” He thrust a mop, bucket, and sponge at Royn. “Now get outta my sight and go clean the latrines until I decide what to do with someone who disobeys a direct order.”

  “Sir?” Royn said, fumbling with the items tossed at him.

  “I told you not to come back till you knew what was out there or took care of it. Yet here you are, with proof of neither. So now I have to decide if I ship you back to the East Side or just court-martial you here. Dismissed.”

  Royn’s face tightened as he saluted. “Sir!” He turned on his heel and walked straight to the latrines, dropping his gear at the door, and set to cleaning them.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t I just grab the stone? It’s so easy – there it is, reach out, grab it,” Royn said aloud. “Then I can’t even teleport back. Now I’m here cleaning toilets while that thing runs around killing people, stealing their energy, putting it into stones to use for who knows what. What is his problem? Why can’t the captain just listen to me? I saw it, was almost killed by it—how much more proof does he need?”

  The doors swung open and Royn stopped his cleaning and saluted. “Lieutenant, sergeant.”

  “Private, as you were,” the lieutenant said. Royn went back to cleaning as the two men relieved themselves. “Private, we heard quite a story about you.”

  “Yes, sir?” Royn said, continuing with his duties.

  “That you found some kind of Skeptor nest or something?”

  “Yes, sir,” Royn said.

  “Well?”

  So Royn told them the story. They listened with rapt attention, and when he was done, they looked at each other with grim faces.

  “You’re sure of what you saw, private?”

  “As sure as I’m standing here, sir.”

  “Then we might be in big trouble. We should triple the guards. Be ready. But don’t tell the captain what we’re doing.”

  “Don’t tell the captain, sir?”

  The lieutenant laughed. “Too right! He’d have our heads if he knew we talked to you and took action on it without consulting him.” He squeezed Royn’s shoulder. “Take heart, private—not all commanders are as...well, are like the captain.”

  Just then, the bell sounded for mess, and the officers left. Royn quickly followed after storing the cleaning supplies. Gathering food, he sat down at a table alone. The Senturian Corps avoided him after the scene with the captain, so he finished his meal by himself and left for his tent. Entering the forest on the way, he tried to scout a little but his heart wasn’t in it and he found nothing.

  Plus he kept hearing that rattling noise every five seconds, and he was jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Royn sighed, gave up, and went to his quarters to sleep.

  The next day, he dressed and booked it to one of the nearby villages. The captain might get mad, but he hadn’t given an order to actually stay in the fort or discontinue his mission. And there was no way Royn could sit there and do nothing. The people around here were in danger, and they didn’t know it. He had to warn them. He wasn’t sure wha
t they could do against such a creature, but it was better to be prepared than caught unawares.

  Arriving at the edge of the mass of wooden shacks, he tried talking to people and got nowhere. “Ma’am, who’s the leader here?” he said to a lady walking by in dirty clothes.

  “Go away, Easterner. You’re not welcome here.”

  Try as he might, the people wouldn’t respond. Despite their ragged appearance, they seemed genuinely happy, and were making an existence here in this harsh land. Just trying to live.

  Royn shook his head; he had to keep pushing. Something would happen. “Sir, could you point me to the leader, or whoever is in charge here? There’s a Skeptor around, and you need to...”

  The crowd around him froze, then started talking frantically in a foreign language. Once of them shouted and they went silent. A tall female strode toward him, her cloak still managing to show her curves. But her face...scattered scars gave her on odd look. “What did you say, Easterner?” she said with a slight accent. Her clothes were cleaner than the rest, and an array of weapons stuck out around leather armor. Soldier.

  “Ma’am, there’s a Skeptor on the loose. I’ve come here to warn you and the other villages in the area.”

  The woman nodded. “If a Dealer is indeed here, then we will take care of our own.”

  She turned to the crowd. “Alert the town, rouse the guards, send runners to the next village in line. Have everyone secure their homes. We’ve dealt with them before, and we will weather this storm. Let’s move.” The people nodded and calmly set about carrying out her orders.

  She turned back to Royn. “Thank you for your warning, Easterner, but you are not welcome here. Goodbye.” She swung her cloak and walked away.