Chapter 7: Piggy

Day 3

Everything was ready.

Branch had chosen a suitable clearing, about ten or fifteen meters across. It was closed off on three sides by thick stands of trees, open only to the north. He had jammed bundles of bristly shrubs between the trees to plug any gaps, meaning that the direboar could only reasonably enter the clearing from the north.

I helped him out with a pit of spikes at the entrance to the clearing, deep as a man was tall and covered in moss and leaves to obscure its presence. I felt like a little goblin, setting traps for our enemy.

Branch had found himself a suitable hiding spot in one of the trees where he would be waiting with bow and arrow. He had placed a heap of rotting goblin meat in the center of the clearing to attract the direboar, harvested from the victims of their previous bout.

Still naked, Branch had given me his sword to defend myself. I had my dagger slung over my chest just in case.

“One last thing before we get this started,” Branch said. “You ought to prepare a Bind to snare the beast in case the trap doesn’t do the job. Let me show you.”

He guided me over to a dead pine at the northern edge of the clearing. “Here.” He gave the trunk a firm clap. “Use Bind and insert it into the tree.”

“Insert?” I asked.

“Yeah. The chain produced by your Bind can be anchored in almost any nonliving material. Try it.”

I shrugged. “Bind,” I said. When links of warm chain streamed from my palm, I grabbed the edge and placed it against the tree. At first, nothing happened, but when I visualised the chain attaching itself, several links sank into the wood. I gave it a few firm tugs and found it firmly stuck.

“Pretty handy,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” Branch agreed. “I think we’re as prepared as we’ll ever be. Are you ready, Crow?”

“No.”

“Too bad. We’re doing this. Get into position.”

I did as I was told, leaving the chain attached to the tree as I moved to the center of the clearing. Branch climbed into his tree. “All good up here!” he called. “Now to get Piggy’s attention. Start hollering, kid! He’ll come running soon enough.”

I licked my lips, staring at the trees beyond the clearing. It was almost certainly my imagination, but I thought I could see a set of dark, glittering eyes staring back.

“Is this really the only way?” I asked.

“Probably not. But I’m not all that bright, and I don’t see you coming up with any ideas. So get to it.”

With that, I relented. “Come on, bastard!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Come and get me! I’ve got some nice, juicy fat on these bones!”

I carried on like that until my voice was hoarse, voice echoing over the forest. Minutes passed, and I began to think that the ever-present menace of mosquitoes and horse-flies would be the biggest threat I’d face that day.

Then I heard it. More than that, I felt it. A distant rumble. Getting closer. I settled into a ready stance, trying to keep my knees from shaking, and held out the sword before me.

It’s going to work, I thought. It has to work. I’m not going to die here.

A deep bellow shook the ground. A moment later, the clearing exploded with motion. A creature broke through the trees to the east, parting some skinny birches with its massive bulk. Bramble bushes caught on wiry fur, carried along.

The creature was big and a horse, maybe twice as heavy, with a dark coat of fur so coarse it resembled quills. The face was that of a boar, set with beady red eyes that dripped of malice, tusks long as arms extending from its gnashing maw. Its sides were matted with old scars, and its hooves beat a discordant rhythm against the ground, throwing up dirt and rocks.

The trap had failed.

Instinctively, I backed away. Stumbling over rocks, nearly falling, I made it to the back edge of the clearing. I bumped up against a thick tree trunk and stopped in my tracks.

The direboar had nowhere to run, sure, but neither did we.

The direboar swiveled, fixing me with its mad, bug-eyed gaze. For a long moment, it sized me up, clear hints of intelligence behind those eyes. It even spared a glance at my weapon, as if sizing up how much of a threat it might be.

Then, with a baleful snort, it charged.

I blinked. It was fast. Too fast. I was paralyzed, frozen in place as the direboar closed the distance between us. Halved it, then halved it again.

Instinctively, I called for the chain, but it stretched taut well before reaching the direboar.

“Fuck,” I cursed, spittle flying.

The monster was on me. Finally breaking out of my stupor, I dove low, beneath its bloated gut. Hooves thundered over and around me, the sound deafening. Just one clean hit from one of those hooves would be enough to smash my skull like an overripe melon.

I tried not to think about that. I scrabbled to my feet, the monster’s feet scratching up my back as it wheeled around, and ran.

I cleared the back of the beast, nearly avoiding a swing of its stubby tail, and made for the north end of the clearing. I didn’t have a plan, but I knew that if I stayed still, I’d die for sure.

“Rend,” came Branch’s voice in a smooth, even tone.

Glancing back, I saw an arrow with a razor-sharp head of dark energy dig into the direboar’s flank, cutting through steel-like quills and leathery hide. The monster roared and bucked, pulping dead goblins beneath its hooves, but did not falter.

I kept running. I was not going to wait for that thing to recover.

I skidded to a stop as I reached the edge, standing before the spike trap. It was about two meters across. I was not looking to fall in.

Taking a few steps back, I sucked in a deep breath. The ground shook as the direboar charged once more.

I ran for it, sprinted like I never had in my few days of living, and jumped. I cleared the trap, landing on the other side, and tucked into a roll. A moment later, a blood-curdling scream made my hairs stand on end as the direboar crashed through.

Getting to one knee, I peeked over the edge to find the direboar thrashing in the pit, its gut stuck through with the sharpened logs we had placed down there. It stared at me, unblinking, teeth gnashing audibly. I could tell it wanted nothing more than to crush me flat, filled to the brim with hatred.

I got to my feet and prodded at the beast with the tip of my sword, drawing blood, unwilling to stoop closer for a more substantial hit.

The monster frothed at the mouth. With an anguished below, it stretched, getting its front hooves over the edge of the trap.

“Uh…” I said, backing away. “Branch! A little assistance!”

The monster heaved, rising, spikes sliding from its flesh. Purple, slimy intestines poked through the holes, but the beast seemed to pay its extensive damage no mind. Eyes singularly focused on me, it rose, scrabbling at the edge of the pit, and eventually got its back legs over the side.

I looked down at the sword in my shaking hand. Compared to the towering monstrosity before me, it seemed a toothpick.

I called for the chain as I retreated from the clearing, had it wrap around the direboar’s tusk. When it came after me, the spectral metal went taut, and the monster’s hooves slid uselessly in the dirt.

“Rend!” Branch cried.

This time, the arrow took it in the ass. The direboar grunted, eyelids flickering, one back leg shaking as it struggled to hold its weight.

I allowed myself to feel a sliver of hope.

The direboar’s eyes came wide open, jaw working in renewed rage. It bucked against the chain, links groaning, tree bending. I could not say what would give first.

The monster’s tusk snapped off. Lips peeled back in something approaching a human sneer, it charged.

“No,” I whispered. In one last show of defiance, I raised my sword outward in both hands. If this thing wanted to have me, I’d make it pay first.

“Quickstep.”

In a flash, Branch was between me and the monster. It bore through him, carried him into the air, impaled on the remaining tusk. Branch slid all the way to the base as the monster reared up.

Branch spat blood. “You ready for this, bastard?” he fought out. Plucking an arrow from the quiver on his back, he said; “Rend.”

The arrowhead alighted with power. With one motion, he drove it through the direboar’s right eye, driving it in all the way to the fletching.

The monster went stiff. It shuddered, stationary, struggling past all reason to keep up the fight.

Then it went limp. Fell sideways.

Branch was thrown clear of the tusk, rolling across the ground. He came to a stop on his back, face paling, hands clutching weakly at the hole in his stomach.

I discarded my weapon and ran to his side.