Page 4
He had no quarrel with the guards escorting him, but they stood between him and freedom.
Decision made, he skidded to a halt and grabbed the shovel.
Swinging around, he then slammed it straight into the face of the man behind him.
2: GOING DOWN FIGHTING
THE CRUNCH OF breaking bones and the gush of blood followed.
The beast surged in Darach’s chest. It twisted and bunched inside him, demanding release. How he wanted to set it free, but the iron muzzled it. However, he let the clag-doo fuel him, reviving his aching muscles and exhausted body.
Another swing of the shovel brought the male warrior to his knees, but Darach didn’t remain focused on finishing him off. Instead, he whirled on the woman who now rushed at him, sword raised.
Iron bit into the shovel’s wooden shaft.
Roaring, Darach lunged in. He head-butted her viciously as he pushed her blade aside. The warrior reeled, but before she could recover, he slammed the flat of the shovel down on her head.
She crumpled, her body blocking the path, even as the remaining two warriors closed in. They were huge Circines, bare arms wrapped with woad tattoos. Jaws set, mouths pressed into flat lines, they came on without breaking stride. Their eyes never left Darach, but there was no malice in them—not yet—only the flat, worn-out look of men forced to obey orders.
Panting, Darach threw aside his shovel, stooped, and grabbed the woman’s short iron sword.
Finally, a proper weapon in his hands.
Iron clanking, he stepped over the bodies. The shackles that bound his ankles restricted movement and slowed him down. And even as the beast writhed and clawed, desperate to get out now, he could feel his strength waning.
Shit. Not now. All he had to do was deal with these two, and he’d be free.
Then, if he could find a smith in the village and get one of the unbound locals to remove his shackles and collar, he could re-enter the fort and shift.
And what then? You can’t control the beast.
The reminder made his heart lurch.
Fuck it.
He had no control over the clag-doo once he changed—that was true—yet it could get him into the fort all the same. Maybe, once the beast had satisfied its hunger, it would allow him to shift back so he could hunt down his brother.
It was a long shot, but he was desperate enough now to try anything.
Dodging the swipe of a blade, he kneed a warrior hard in the cods and shoved him into his friend. Pain stung his right arm as one of their blades scored the skin. He yanked away just in time, his own blade stabbing up and under the ribs of the warrior he’d just pushed.
The man collapsed with a wheeze.
That left just one of them.
The man’s eyes glowed silver now as he slashed at Darach, his movements blindingly fast. But since the beast still thrashed around inside him, even though it couldn’t get free, Darach had his own reserves too. And for a short while, he could hold on, just long enough to bring this opponent down.
And he did, with a slash to the throat.
Four bodies lay on the muddy path while ravens croaked and the wind howled. Spots of rain splattered onto Darach’s face then. The boiling, angry clouds had rolled in.
Another rumble of thunder shook the air, and the splashes of rain quickened.
A moment later, the sky opened, and rain thundered down.
Blinking as rivulets of icy water streamed into his eyes, Darach staggered forward, his iron bindings clanking.
Right, the first part of his plan was done.
