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Irvin follows him up the trail to the wagons. He ignores how the doctor’s hands shake when Arsene hands him a torch. He shouldn’t have let the human come along—but he’s grown an inconvenient sliver of compassion.
The path is rough and steep. His ears strain every time rock scrapes under the human’s clumsy feet, expecting enemies to leap out of the dark. The first quick-patter scuttle comes up the rock face—definitely not human. Arsene halts, forcing Irvin to stop too, and holds his torch up.
The noise comes again. The thick black body of an enormous scorpion skitters into the torchlight, and he swings instinctively. He brings the sword down hard on its armored back, splitting the creature in two with a grim crack. Irvin shouts.
“Shh!” he hisses, sweeping the hillside in front of them. The chimera is the length of his forearm, but that’s small—too small. “It’s a juvenile. It must be part of a swarm. Be on the lookout.”
Chimeras are usually solitary creatures, though they may hunt together. But any time a chimera spawns it gives birth to a swarm. Mindless with hunger, the swarm devours everything in its path—usually the bulk of it dies quickly of starvation, or cold. The further south, the more abundant their food and the warmer it is. And the quicker they can reproduce to form another swarm.
The oasis must be a regular hunting ground. But where’s the swarm mother?
Arsene leads the doctor past the ruined carapace. He stays alert, but there are no more attacks. A straggler, maybe. One too reckless to be afraid of their torches.
The wagons come into view as they crest the hill, and Arsene tenses. Tall grass stands between them and the wagons, plenty high enough to hide more massive scorpions.
“Stay here,” he says to Irvin, who nods stiffly
He’s quick. The grass rustles, but no enemy makes itself known. But when he gets to the wagons they’re empty.
“Where have they gone?” he hisses at Irvin on his return.
The doctor blanches. “I don’t know, I?—”
“Dad.Dad!” comes a short, quiet cry, and both of them whip around.
“There,” Irvin whispers, pointing. A copse of spindly trees lurks twenty feet from them, a dark hump against the deep blue night. Arsene lifts his torch and forges through the grass.
Three sets of legs hug the lowest branch, and the long pole used to lever the wagons out of pot-holes dangles from someone’s hand. A scorpion scuttles out of the tall grass and up the trunk of the tree. The pole swiftly stabs at the chimera until it’s dislodged from the bark and falls to the ground. One of the children starts to cry, a thin wail.
“Help!” the same child from before calls. “Liss is hurt!”
The grass rustles next to them, and Arsene swipes at an opportunistic chimera, sending it flying. “Use your torch,” he barks at Irvin over his shoulder. The shadows suddenly swing crazily as he does just that. Arsene dispatches of another, and another, until they reach the dirt clearing.
“Cam!” Irvin calls, lifting his torch. “How many of you are up there?”
“Me, Liss, and Shen,” the boy calls down, voice wavering.
Arsene turns his back on the reunion, eyes on the field. Two more emerge from the grass, only driven back by a swipe of the flame.
“We need to get them down,” Irvin says.
“You have to climb up there and see how badly she’s hurt,” Arsene tells him.
Irvin digs the end of his torch into the earth so it stands up, and Arsene follows suit. He straightens in time to see a scorpion skitter around the back of the trunk. Irvin leaps back with a yell and Arsene lunges. He skewers the chimera in its midsection,pinning it to the tree. The creature’s tail lashes in its death throes and he yanks his sword free before it can strike him.
“Quick,” he growls.
With Arsene standing guard, Irvin heaves himself up the tree.
“She’s bleeding,” the doctor calls down, his voice shaking. “Not stung.”
Arsene lets loose a curse, part relief and part frustration. “Can you bring her down?”
“Come to this side. If I can lower her?—”
Arsene checks the perimeter of the torchlight. It’s empty. Just how many of them are there?
“I’m coming.”
