by
Frelga » Mon Aug 16, 2004 8:29 am
Part 7
We went on as soon as the fog cleared enough for us to see more than three steps ahead. The mist became thinner, golden light reached through and dissolved in it, and at last we climbed up to the clear air. Below us, steaming whiteness was spread under the sky that was empty of even a trace of cloud. Far above, an icy peak sparkled in the sun – Mkinvary, the watch tower in the frozen wall of Gergeti glacier.
The sun was far too high for my liking, considering how far we still had to go before any chance of shelter. We got a respite from the beating rays when the trail dropped into a deep, flat-bottomed hollow. There, a few cupfuls of sweet rainwater waited in a stone bowl. I called for a stop, having noticed for the first time how short Tamiko breath had become, and how flushed her face was, with two bright red spots on her cheeks. But she was restless and would not sit down for more than a few moments. So on we went, up the steep stone stairs to the sun-heated rocky trail.
I stopped at the top of the stairs to take off my burka and fasten it in a roll across one shoulder. Somewhere behind us, there was a rustling of small stones tumbling down the slope. A goat, I thought. I didn’t have my bow and this was not the time to hunt, so I didn’t bother turning around to look. But Tamiko did turn. I heard a short, low wail, as if she were trying to scream while the air rushed into her throat. Spinning around, I reached over the shoulder for my sword.
It was still a good way up but coming straight at us; an oversized shape like an ill-formed man. I knew what it was, from the stories told on winter nights by old men, from the nightmares that haunted my boyhood, when I spent my days pretending to fight it. I could see what happened to my neighbor. I saw what my own fate would be. Nobody, not anyone ever had defeated a veshapi with only a sword.
It moved so fast, upright on its crooked legs. We could not hope to outrun it. Not both of us. I grabbed Tamiko’s arm, and pushed her behind me and away, up the trail. “Run!” I cried. Then I ran too, back down into the hollow, sliding on my heels.
Behind me, the trail was narrow and the rock-wall too steep even for a veshapi to climb down. I stood, holding my sword, the silver-hilted gift from Lykhnasta, and waited. With a shower of pebbles, it came. My eyes were level with its wide chest; its front was thick slabs of muscle under stringy fur. Its face was terrible, a flattened muzzle, four fangs sticking up and down, a low boulder of a brow and deep under it – round eyes that would look human if they held any shade of thought or feeling. It advanced with an unhurried certainty, making a wheezing noise with each step, like blizzard over ice.
Courage failed me and I was ready to turn and clamber up the stairs, out, away. I would die before I took two steps, killed from behind like a scurrying mouse. Pride, stronger than fear, held me in place and drove me to slash at the advancing claws. With sudden speed, it pulled back and reached again, faster.
So the game began. Its arms were so long, I could not get close enough to wound it. Time and again I aimed at its hands and just managed to keep away the claws. Sweat poured down my face, and each ragged breath was poisoned with veshapi’s scent, as of dried blood. I could only dodge and swing my futile blade, and hope to stand long enough for Tamiko to get away.
And then it tired of playing. A blow came with a crushing strength and speed. I met it with the sword’s edge against the sinew-bound wrist. Blood spurted, purple like rotten grapes. The blade bit through hide and muscle and sprang back on hitting the bone, flying out of my hand like a slippery fish.
Its paw caught me, and the claws ripped through my burka, where it was rolled up across my chest. The blow lifted me off my feet and threw me hard against the rocks. Air went out of my chest and would not go back in. Was that all, I thought, would that pitiful scratch be my only mark?
With a dull thud, a large rock hit the veshapi’s scull and bounced off. The beast swayed a little and with a bellow it turned to where a tall figure stood at the far side of the hollow. Behoe.
Another rock whistled through the air, smashing into the hairy back. It didn’t seem to damage the beast, but it gave me time to catch my breath. Air cut down my throat like a double-edged sword. With breath, hope returned. Behoe and I, were we not the two mightiest men under the Three Mountains? Together...
With another roar, the veshapi charged at Behoe across the hollow. I rolled to reach my sword, and got up to my feet. A boulder, as large as any I could lift, hurtled at the vehsapi’s low brow, missing by a handspan, and another followed, hitting its target. Before the beast could recover, I caught up with it from behind, sweeping the sword like a scythe against its knee.
It struck back faster than I could free the sword. All I could do was throw my left arm up to protect my face. I heard the claws tear through my arm and shoulder. This should hurt, I thought as I fell, dragging my sword with me.
The veshapi was free to finish me then. But it went back at Behoe, wobbling on the wounded knee, its spine bent like a bow, the head kept erect. A hail of rocks failed to stop it. As I struggled to my feet, I saw Behoe draw his sword and leap down to meet the veshapi.
“Stay up there!” I tried to shout, but I had no breath. My left arm would not move, and I could not quite hold myself straight. I was too slow. Behoe got one stroke in, before the claws ripped through him. Blood welled up from head to waist and he crumpled to the ground.
My second slash was weaker than the first, but it sufficed to draw the veshapi from Behoe’s body and make it turn on me. It was enraged now, roaring hoarsely. I found myself beyond the reach of pain or fear, driven by cruel rage to slice and damage as much as I could before the beast brought me down. Still it pressed on. Step by step, I retreated across the hollow, and it limped after me. At last my back was against the stone stairs and the beast towered over me.
An arrow whistled over my head and went deep into the veshapi’s eye. The beast’s roar rose to a grating shriek, like a giant sword driven into the rock. Another arrow grazed the thick scull, but the job was done. The veshapi staggered and fell on the wounded knee, and its face was level with mine. With all the strength in my right arm and my legs, and with all my weight I drove the hill-forged blade against its throat. That sword could cut through the smith’s tongs; it sliced the thick skin, and found the vein that held the beast’s lifeblood, and hit the spine. There it stuck and the evil blood frothed over it.
I don’t know whether the veshapi fell before I did, or if it knocked me down again in its blind thrashing. The rocks trembled under me as I tried to move away from the flailing arms. I slumped against the rocks, and folded around my bleeding arm, and waited until the beast’s last strength was spent. At last the great veshapi, terror of the passes, lay still at my feet, with my sword in its throat and an arrow buried in its eye. I knew those white feathers, stained with purple blood though they were.
At the top of the stone staircase Tamiko stood, straight and slender like her own arrow against the clear sky, her bow still bent and ready. I tried to rise but fell back. My battle rage trickled away with the blood that soaked my left side, and the pain was now free to tear through me. I bit off a cry and watched Tamiko. She ran down the trail, light as a leaf on a brook, and rushed past me to Behoe’s side.
Post on Your Phone!
I am paranoind about keeping backups and copies of everything I write. While about five printed pages of the story have gone into the recycling bin (after I let my son scribble on the blank side), I have my Word document set to track versions back to day one. And when I edit, I use track changes feature. For some reason, when I see that page all marked in red and green, it makes me feel that I'm doing my job.
Oh, hi, I'm Sil, by the way. Luthy told me about your story and I decided I had to come and take a look for myself. I love it so far!! I must say, I don't ever write in first person (I much prefer being the all-knowing narrator--bwahah), but you are doing a great job of it! I haven't found anything your other editors haven't already pointed out--mostly little grammatical errors. Looking forward to more!
(just looking for an excuse to use the new smiley), so it probably will be at least a week before I am ready to post anything. But at last I can say that I got one story from start all the way through the end! There isn't a smiley here to describe how happy I am. [/rambling]
I was up until midnight yesterday struggling with a single flutterin' sentence of - what else - description. In total frustration, I got out a book that had several passages similar to what I was trying to do, just to see how it was done. But that was a novel, so the description went on for like three paragraphs, and I only had room for a single sentence. Not that I was going to copy from the book, I just hoped for some inspiration. In the end, I rearranged half a page, threw out two paragraphs that I actually liked quite a bit, and 
[/Rant]
Wow... I wish my writing was that good....good to the point where a single sentence would drive me mad. *Is now depressed*
for Radesh, and *chocolates* for Frelga!!
