Pushing through a thicket of thorny bushes, he burst into a small clearing with a rocky spire jutting out from its center and found himself staring at a pack of truly gruesome creatures.
Smaller than the lethal monsters he had initially encountered, the nightmarish makeup of these new beasts caused Cedric’s stomach to turn. They looked as if whatever malevolent magic had created them had gone wrong. Four black eyes peered out from flat faces—their features were squished, as if someone had smashed them in. Six thin, spindly legs jutted out from squat, scaly bodies. Tiny wings protruded from their backs, twisted and mangled, though he doubted very much that they could fly.
A good thing, Cedric supposed, as his gaze drifted up the spire and locked onto the petite sylvan woman hanging from it.
Zephyr had surprised everyone when she strode forward to claim her place in the Crucible. From what Cedric knew, sylvans weren’t well-regarded for their fighting prowess, nor did they seem to carry a predilection toward violence at all. They were better known for their propensity for curative magic and herbalism. Healers and apothecaries. Not fighters.
Something that seemed to hold true as Cedric observed the sylvan, panting as she desperately clung to the column, her gaze never leaving the beasts below. There were half a dozen of them, all leaping and crawling over one another in an attempt to get to her.
Zephyr kept one arm wrapped around the stone pillar as she balanced on a small ledge. Her other hand was pressed to her leg, trying to staunch the flow of viscous green blood from a wound below her knee. A glint of light reflected off a dagger on the ground nearby—she was disarmed.
I could leave her, he thought. There was nothing that said he had to help, had to rush to aid this person who had gotten so farin over her head, she was but a heartbeat away from failure. She was a champion—a challenger, arival.More than that, she was an Arcanian. He could very well leave the sylvan to her fate and go on as though he’d never seen a thing. It was what Lord Church would expect of him.
Nobody would know.
Except . . . he would.
And hadn’t he come just as close to being wiped from the Crucible due to an unexpected encounter with some cruel, netherworldly beast? If Dissidua had not turned around and immediately tried to kill him themself...Perhaps this was a blessing from Aurelia, another chance for Cedric to secure an ally.
Zephyr whimpered, her grip on the stone pillar slipping. Cedric let out a long sigh. Pushing past his hesitation, he charged forward, his sword slashing into the first creature he could reach. It cut easily through the beast’s scaly skin, severing bone and sinew. Dead in an instant.
It took a moment for the remaining five beasts to realize that they were under attack. Cedric took advantage of their confusion, withdrawing several paces. By the time the beasts noticed their slain pack member, he’d managed to back up a fair amount.
Two of the creatures turned, scuttling on those disturbing, spider-like legs to close the distance between themselves and Cedric. Lips peeled back over sharp fangs as one of the beasts leapt forward.
Cedric spun to the right. The creature yelped as it flew past him, uncontrolled. It slammed into a row of thorny bushes, immediately getting tangled in the sharp brambles.
“Ha!” Cedric released a triumphant laugh.
It was premature.
Pain erupted at his back as the second beast slashed at a gap in his armor. That was how Cedric learned that a massive, hooked claw was attached to the end of each spindly leg. Gritting his teeth against his stinging back, he slashed out and neatly hacked two of those legs off the nearest beast.
The noises that came from the creature were...unsettling. Even as the wounded beast scuttled away, leaving a trail of black blood in its wake, the other three converged on Cedric—as if their brethren’s screeches were a rallying cry. A din of shrieks and growls echoed in thedistance. Cedric groaned. The last thing he needed was more of these things coming for them.
With Cedric’s attention split between the creatures prowling at his front and the feral cacophony—still distant but growing closer much too quickly for his liking—he didn’t notice when one of the remaining three beasts moved out of sight. Didn’t notice when it stalked behind him. Didn’t notice it rearing up on its back four legs until it was nearly face-height.
He didn’t notice. Not until he felt the creature’s hot, rank breath on the back of his neck.
Cedric spun, bringing his sword up just in time to defend against its razor-taloned front legs. But the quarters were too close, and Cedric couldn’t get the leverage he needed to push the creature back. All he could do was brace the edge of his sword against the beast’s claws, keeping himself just out of reach of its snapping jaw.
Sweat rained from Cedric’s brow and his muscles tensed with effort as he held, held, held?—
And then the creature was collapsing in on itself, its legs curving inward as it crumpled to the ground. A crown of closely shorn hair, green as the forest, popped up from behind the beast’s body.
“Behind you!” Zephyr yelled, plucking her dagger from the dead beast’s ribs.
Cedric whirled, his sword plunging forward into the abdomen of another creature. It died with a pitiful whine. But when Cedric tried to pull his weapon back out, it was stuck.
The final beast was on top of him instantly, fangs bared, its many beady eyes pinned to Cedric’s throat. Time stretched, a miniature eternity as the knight evaluated his options. Then, the creature was rearing back, readying itself to leap, to bite, to kill.
Cedric swung into action.
Abandoning his sword, he dropped to his knees, spinning as he swiped the dagger from his waist and thrust it upward, just as something whistled past his ear.
Zephyr’s thrown dagger sank into the creature’s forehead, Cedric’s own weapon piercing its ribs at the same time. It never even got the chance to howl.
For a few excruciating moments, neither Cedric nor Zephyr moved. Their breaths were ragged, heavy, but they remained still as they took in the carnage around them. Hot, black blood soaked Cedric’s hand, still clutching the hilt of the dagger buried deep in the creature’s chest.
