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The burn in Annon’s neck was growing unbearable.
“Tyrus,” Annon warned, turning to face the new threat.
He heard Shion’s intake of shocked breath. “No!”
A new enemy had joined them. The beast let out a roar that turned Annon’s legs to water. He opened his eyes, seeing the hunchbacked beast, its fur the color of storm clouds. Its eyes were gone, gouged out by some horrible blade. The scars on its face were livid as it revealed long, pointed teeth. It wasn’t quite a bear, but had some resemblance to one. It was bigger than any creature Annon had ever seen. It rose on hind legs, its massive paws and claws swaying mesmerizingly.
The fear that shot down Annon’s legs made him stand rigid.
The mist. The fog. Horror rooted into his bones.
It was a Fear Liath.
“There are rumors of food shortages throughout the city. The people obviously are panicking and hoarding what they can. Of course, the larders will be full, for I know the Arch-Rike has stores aplenty. I believe the Preachán are the source of this saying: When the stomach is full, it is easy to talk of fasting.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XX
Phae could hear the shiver in Shion’s breathing. She dared not look up for fear of the Cockatrice, but the presence of this new enemy had changed the feeling in the air. The mist was colder somehow, knife-sharp, and caused her to tremble.
“What is it?” she whispered, afraid to grab his arm, for he had been slashing ruthlessly at the attacking creatures coming down from the treetops. One of the creatures had scored her arm and she felt her skin itching from the poison.
There was a deep huffing snort followed by a snickering sound at the back of its throat.
“A Fear Liath,” Kiranrao announced, his voice suddenly thick. “Our blades will not cut through its hide. Fire will not stay it. Its only weakness is sunlight—the hide is vulnerable then.”
“Bigger than a bear,” Baylen said gruffly.
“Watch out!” Hettie screamed.
Phae heard the heavy paws crunch into the mat of desiccated leaves as it charged directly at her. She lifted her gaze, knowing instinctively that she’d die if she did not. In that moment, everything slowed, and it felt as if her arms and legs were plunged into mud. She saw the look of wild terror in Shion’s eyes, saw the twisting snarl on his mouth as he seemed to relive a memory that, though shrouded, smashed against his feelings. She understood immediately what had given him his scars so long ago.
In that same terrible glance, she saw the Fear Liath charging them, its maw thick with fangs. It came like a runaway wagon, hind legs enormous and powerful, thick and shielded with soot-gray fur. Its claws were like silver blades. It was beyond huge, radiating a primal energy and horrible stench that blacked out every part of her brain except the desire to flee.
Shion shoved Phae aside and was struck by the full force of the Fear Liath’s charge. She glanced off a tree, losing her footing and going down. She watched helplessly as the monster batted Shion away like feather fluff. He sailed across the grove before crashing into a thickset oak tree. The Fear Liath swiped its claws at Shion, gouging the bark of the oak with savage ferocity as the besieged man twisted away. Phae scrabbled to get to the other side of a different tree and heard its snout snuffling after her, drawn to her scent.
The Fear Liath roared, a sound so close and penetrating that she clamped her own ears with her hands, and still it pierced her. She tried to run but collided with the body of her father. She heard the crunch of the Liath’s bulk in the twigs not far behind.
Tyrus’s eyes were frantic. Grabbing her wrist, he pressed something into her hand, an uneven stone. His voice was harsh against her ear, short and curt. “If all fails, squeeze it. Squeeze it hard! Now flee! Get up a tree!”
He turned her toward the woods and shoved her to get her going. Phae stumbled and almost fell, but she managed to catch herself. Images flooded her mind of when she had fled from Shion in the mountains of Stonehollow. She had been terrified then. At this moment, she understood truly how deep fear went. The Fear Liath was immune to their attacks. It was hunting her. It would kill her.
“Shion!” she screamed in desperation, bolting into the mist-shrouded woods, leaving the others behind. A bear had attacked them in that abandoned house. His knife had killed it. This time, there was no weapon that could stop this creature.
A Cockatrice flapped straight toward her face, its claws slashing at her cheek. She ducked, feeling the claws shred through her hair, and ran deeper into the woods.
A blast of blue fire exploded from behind her and she heard the Fear Liath snort with derision and knock Tyrus aside. She could hear the sound of it savaging him, the shred of fabric, the grunt of pain from a man, not a beast.
