This is the twenty-fourth chapter of the Fang & Bone serial; click here to visit the previous installment of Fang of Triseria. Please share your thoughts on the story in the comments, or visit the project hub for more information.
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Previously on Fang & Bone, Corea had obtained a new knife and a short bow from a corpse that Fang found. Since then, Fang and Erryl have been on edge about local bandits and have quickened their pace…
There was no sign of the bandits that Fang and Erryl were convinced were lurking in the woods. It wasn’t that Corea did not believe them, but rather that with every inspection she made of the treeline, she saw nothing but trees, shrubs, and the errant shuffling of small animals. She did not know what they saw, and as of now, she couldn’t ask them. Fang was on the alert, and she watched his ears turn and wiggle at sounds she could not hear. Erryl forced a quickened pace, pushing Corea into a faster stride that was beginning to get exhausting, nearly as exhausting as the barber’s continued utterance of “move.”
Whenever she asked for clues as to what she should watch for, the reply was always the same from Erryl – either “move” or “hush.” She dared not call out to Fang, yards ahead, for fear of making noise. Both of her guardians moved near silently, and she had quickly decided that should be her approach as well, outside of frustrated whispers that were met with, again, “move” or “hush.”
They had been teaching her things all day, for hours now, but now they weren’t, and it frustrated her. As she walked, she would periodically glance at her feet and stare at the toes of her boots as they swept over the roughshod path, conscious more than ever of her youth. She was small and something to be protected, to be watched over like a small child, and she hated it. She understood it, but she did not like it.
The awareness of the shift from contributor to burden made her face feel hot, and she clenched her fists so hard that her nails were on the cusp of breaking the skin of her palm. Realizing how tightly she had been clenching at nothing, she loosened up and flexed her fingers, trying not to let the annoyance and shame get the better of her. She wouldn’t be a burden, she decided. She was a hard worker at home. She could be a hard worker here. Soon the woods would clear, and they’d enter the field that surrounded the outskirts of Gordhurst. There would be less cover for all parties, which was probably worse than the equal cover of the woods. This was her chance to learn.
And with that, her focus shifted to the treeline surrounding the old road. She would glance between the trees into the darkened woods, despite the day. She took in the strange greenish tinge of the sky, subtle, but it had been growing more obvious as they walked along the road through the cracks of the canopy. She tried to hear beyond the sound of her steps, beyond the immediate area. She tried to discern scents. She did everything she could think of to be more aware of the woods, to reach out beyond the immediate. She was met with nothing beyond the immediate. She began to clench her fists again. She unclenched them, exhaling.
“Move,” Erryl whispered.
She began to clench her fists again. She released them, again. She picked up her pace and whispered back.
“How do I do what you do?” she asked.
Erryl was silent for a moment or two. Then he spoke.
“Surgery or swordplay?”
“Survive. See what you and him see.” She pointed to Fang up ahead.
“Do this for a while. My lupine companion and I have nearly a half-century of experience between us.” Erryl patted her on the head. “It’s time that hones the instincts.”
Corea said nothing, but felt a little comfort at the feeling of his hand on her head.
“Now, hush and move,” he added, spoiling the moment.
Corea sighed and picked up her pace, yet again.
…
Despite what Erryl had said, Corea was still seeking to pick up on little things in the world around her, trying to hone her senses for what was sure to be a trial within the old town – Trying to build up those “instincts” he had mentioned. It would take time, but surely there was some practice too, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just a passive experience; it was something that had to be honed to some degree. It had to be.
The repetition, the pace, and the focus began to come together, and before she knew it, something seemed different. A strange awareness that wasn’t necessarily of her worldly senses. She would find it impossible to describe in the years since. It was like there was a rhythm of the world, and errant notes would pique her attention, and she’d feel something, experience something like color in her head, though she could not quite understand what any of those colors meant.
But there was a familiarity. There was a blood-deep feeling about it all that she could not quite articulate..
There were blues and greens, which seemed to be the most common colors she saw, but sudden flashes of other, warmer colors would burst into subtle pops and sparks, vibrating and humming, fading in and out of the worldly rhythm. As she focused and fell into experiencing this strange layer to her experience, she found herself conscious of two worlds. She saw the road and her werewolf guardian ahead. But there was another world of color over it. It was like when she applied pressure to her closed eyes in the darkness of night when she was tired; the kind of sparks that danced in her vision after. But also not quite that, as those faded after a time. This experience persisted and only grew as she focused on it. It was like each of her eyes saw something else. She felt dizzy trying to make sense of it all, but not physically so.
This wasn’t entirely a new sensation, either. She’d been recognizing this feeling for a while now, before, in other moments, back home, back during chores, or spending time with Garen. She’d experience spells of rhythmic lights in the night, but this was different. This felt like something deliberate and something she was making happen.
She pushed further, trying to comprehend both worlds simultaneously. As she saw green and blue dancing, shimmering, and pulsing, she too saw Erryl to her left, looking at her with concern. As she heard the rhythm of the world, she also heard him speak.
“Your nose is bleeding.”
She felt the sensation of the blood from her nostrils and over her top lip. She saw blues and greens give way to warmer hues, to yellows, golds, and oranges, and until bursts of red violently and continually tore at her vision. Her ears popped with discordant, droning sounds. She felt herself wobble and stared at the road, unsure whether the world was shaking or it was her.
Seconds later, there was a roar. She stood unsteadily and watched Fang draw his sword and heard the cracking of branches and the violent uprooting of earth and brush. An ear-piercing squeal tore through the woods, then, and the world of color dropped from her vision, as though someone had just simply pulled it away. In one moment, her altered mind snapped back into a violent, bitter reality. She felt nausea wash over her as a giant boar erupted from the tree line and dashed past the Wolf as his heavy sword swing missed it.
“Damn! Corea, hide!”
Erryl dashed past, shoving her body toward the treeline to her right, but she couldn’t move; the world still rocked, and she was having trouble getting a sense of herself. As the Barber pushed toward the boar, he turned his gaze back to her to yell, again, “Hide!”
She shook her head, trying to jostle away whatever bewitchment clouded her mind, and with an immediate burst of strength threw herself toward a large tree off the side of the old road. She pressed herself against it and slid down,, shrinking into the ferns that grew at the base of the tree. She still felt dizzy, and she swore at herself. She focused through the rocking sensation as best she could on the Barber and the Wolf. Erryl seemingly danced around the boar, looking for an opportune moment. The beast, dwarfing even Fang, the Wolf had given up his sword for his fists.
At shoulder height, the boar looked to be a head shorter than the werewolf, but with the long, muscular frame of a swine – all front-heavy. She’d never seen such a large creature in her life, and suddenly she felt very scared. Hunters had told stories of massive boars, but this beast was larger than the surely exaggerated tales overheard by the hearth at the inn. Now, seeing this, she wondered just how exaggerated those tales had been.
Fang had not sheathed his sword, exposing his massive hands – or were they paws? – and the dagger-like claws at the tip of each finger. She’d not seen them this present yet, and he appeared terrifying and primal, barking and growling and slashing at the boar between dodged charges. Massive fingers flexed out from his hand, tipped by sickle-like tips, not unlike the knife she had found on the body less than an hour ago. The boar would take huge, striding passes while the Wolf and the Barber would strike in passing. Fang’s claws raked at the thin skin effectively, drawing red ribbons that sprayed out at each swipe, but Erryl’s sword seemed almost useless. The thin, swishy rapier did not seem to cut well, and she began to see the man wielding it lose his temper.
“Hold the fucker,” Erryl barked, barely dodging another charging swipe from the boar. It had been very close, and Corea was not sure if he’d been entirely unscathed.
Fang raked the boar across the face, barely dodging the strike himself. The boar squealed a horrible swine-squeal that bellowed from massive lungs. The boar cleared some distance and began to turn, digging its weight deep into the soil and kicking up a torrent of dirt. The boar stood then, panting, sizing the pair up. Two sets of tusks raked at the path, throwing up clouds of dirt and clods of musty soil along with clumps of grasses. It looked poised to charge again.
“Near a thousand pounds. Not that strong.”
“I need to get it in the eyes,” Erryl added, not acknowledging Fang’s point.
“Fine.”
She watched the Wolf widen his stance on digitgrade legs and leaned slightly forward, lowering his body to the earth. His arms were outstretched, as though he planned to catch the boar. He wasn’t planning on doing that, though, was he? Corea noticed him breathing hard, his fuzzy brow furrowed in concentration.
The boar kicked up more dirt and dust and suddenly charged forward. Erryl took a few steps back as Fang began to shift, crablike, along the path as the boar charged. She flinched when the massive beast came upon the Wolf, but then she saw the boar lift into the air, almost like it was in a flying leap, only back-first. Time felt slower now, as she took in the sight. The boar had not willingly gone vertical, but rather she saw that Fang had locked his massive hands around the larger set of tusks that were peeking out of the boar’s maw and had seemingly lifted the boar skyward by the head. The boar was at the apex for whatever this flip was as Fang twisted his body, holding the boar upright with all his strength for a scant few moments. As soon as the boar crossed that apex, the beast slammed down, hard, on its back, and Fang stumbled backward, either dizzy or exhausted from carrying the weight.
The boar, helpless for a moment, legs kicking skyward, wiggled its massive bulk as best it could to right itself. As soon as it had slammed, Erryl had darted forward toward the gnashing ahead and with great finesse threaded the shaking needle of a blade into the beast’s eye socket. He planted the rapier tip deep into a giant, pale yellow eye and swished and flicked, finally drawing the rapier free with a sickening thread of eye jelly arcing from it.
The boar squealed and gnashed and kicked with all its might, nearly knocking Erryl over. Fang, meanwhile, still recovering, began to claw at the kicking legs, nearly succumbing to two direct hooven blows to the face. Within the ferns, Corea’s eyes shone at the opportunity, and she arose, firing her small arrows at the giant, aiming at the guts where she knew pig skin to be weaker. Yet still, several of them bounced off the thick, bristled skin. But as the beast finally gained enough momentum to right itself, a single arrow hit its mark, finding purchase in the large testicles that dangled between the hind legs. The boar screamed and whipped its massive head in her direction as it steadied itself on its hooves, one eye little more now than an oozing socket running down a thick jowl. It snarled, drooled, and tried its best to scrape the arrow from its balls with a hind leg as it began to thrash her way, knocking Erryl over and swatting Fang with a heavy tail across the chest, sending him stumbling back.
What began as a slow lurch accelerated into a charge, and Corea fired an arrow that missed the boar entirely just as it crashed into the tree where she had sought cover. The tree fell forward and nearly crushed her as she scrambled into the low ferns, crawling as far from the boar as she could. Still enraged and sure the target of its ire was in the immediate area, it began to whip its tusked snoout in the ferns and shrubs, tearing up every single plant it hit, nearly catching Corea by the ankle or ass multiple times as she crawled as fast as she could. She tried to throw herself over the downed tree as best she could, but was not fast enough. The boar howled and began to thrash on the fallen tree, and she tried to crawl over. The tree rolled and bounced, tossing her back into the shrubs.
She was exhausted and tried to crawl again, away from the boar as it slowly approached. She had turned and was now pulling herself from it as she faced it directly. Only inches away, the jaws of the beast opened, and the scent of rotting meat hit her like a gust of rancid air. The heavy breathing belayed a frustration, and Corea was now the scapegoat for the massive swine’s wrath.
The head of the boar suddenly jerked upward, exposing the fleshy neck. She saw two massive, clawed and furred hands digging deep into the jawline and pulling the head upward. Fang’s grip was so deep and powerful that his knuckles were buried in the porcine flesh. The boar thrashed, but she could see Fang straddling just behind its skull, desperately wrestling the head skyward.
“Cut!” Fang roared, continuing to jerk the massive head upward and exposing the neck flesh. The boar continued to roar and shake, but Fang held on, gripping with all his might and digging his claws deeper into the fatty jowls that began to ooze crimson.
Corea drew the new curved blade and was relieved that it was still sharp. She rose to unsteady feet and threw herself forward and upward, toward the neck as the boar stomped and thrashed, jamming the knife as far in as she could. She had nearly sunk the blade to the handle; she struggled to keep her grip as hot blood fushed from the wound. When she realized she had gone as deep as she could, she threw all of her weight into running the full length of the buried blade across the throat, showering her in even more blood as she dragged.
Finally, the blade popped loose, and she collapsed, accidentally tossing it a few feet away as the boar began to die. Directly under the thrashing beast, she breathed hard and spat out what felt like an eternal stream of blood raining all over her. She tried her best to belly crawl out from beneath the boar, but the plants were slick with blood, and the dirt had become ruby mud. There was no hold to propel her along, and each inch was hard won.
As she crawled, she watched Fang continue to pull the head upward, the new neck wound widening further and further, like a fabric sack splitting open. The sound of broken bones and tearing flesh was eerily clear despite the earsplitting gargling and mournful squeals of the boar. Within a few moments, punctuated by his inhuman growls, Fang pulled so hard that the neck broke upward and ripped the boar’s head clear from its shoulders, just as Erryl swept in, plunging his rapier into the tearing tendons with a near frenzy.
Corea had never seen so much blood. She stopped trying to move and simply watched, in awe, at the sheer ferocity of Fang. As the boar’s body collapsed, he tore the head free of the last of the tendons and the remainder of the spine, and tossed the newly freed head, weighing at least a hundred pounds, to the dirt. He crawled from off the beast’s shoulders and began to lick away the blood from his claws, staring at her, saying nothing. His eyes shone with a bright yellow glow as the forest darkened around him and he seemingly fell into the shadows themselves, with the exception of those beautiful, horrifying eyes.
It was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. She passed out just after.
…
“You had no place in that fight, and you nearly got yourself killed, you idiot. You godsdamned child.”
Erryl stomped over to Corea, his rapier flexing as his wrist rolled. She flinched. He paused, whipped around, and marched back to the boar’s severed head and kicked it across its massive snout.
“Fuck!”
Fang glanced up at Erryl, as he was sitting by the trophy, and punched the man in the hip. “Don’t spoil the prize. Go kick a tree,” the Wolf said in his low growl.
Erryl sheathed his blade and placed his hands on his hips, fuming, staring downward, but not really staring at anything as far as Corea could tell. Fang sat, observing, patting himself with his massive hands and releasing puffs of dust into the air. He examined a claw and began to lick at it.
“You need to grow the hell up.” Erryl’s tone was curt as he looked back at Corea. “This is life and death.”
Fang said nothing, his eyes shifting between the two of them. Corea didn’t quite know how to make out his expression, but she had the distinct feeling the Wolf was annoyed. She was surprised how different he looked now, sitting casually by a grotesque severed boar’s head, seemingly fiddling with what would have been his nails had he been a human.
“If she dies, she dies. She’ll learn quickly or not. No sense in a tantrum,” Fang added.
Corea felt her skin redden in embarrassment, and she quickly buried her face into some of the cloth Erryl had gathered earlier to cleanse the sticky blood from her face.
Erryl sighed. He glanced down at Corea, but she did not look back at him, pretending to be focused on scrubbing her face.
“We’ll keep an eye out for a pond or something so you can wash away that blood. Serves you right to be covered in it.” Erryl marched toward the boar’s corpse and began to look it over. He knelt and felt the thick, fatty skin. “For now, we take what we can.”
He drew a knife and plunged it into the back alongside the mane that ran down the spine. “Not the largest one I’ve seen, but a real hefty fucker nonetheless.”
Fang had shifted the boar’s head between his legs and was sawing at the flesh around the tusks. “Out west. Real brutes,” he added.
Corea couldn’t resist asking. “How big did they get out west?”
Fang continued to saw at the jaw. He paused and gripped a large tusk, trying to shake it loose. It didn’t budge, so he grunted and continued cutting into the flesh. He spoke then, “West Brakfel, furthest out I’ve been. Saw one nine feet at the shoulder. Several orc riders on it. We retreated after we lost three men in one charge.”
Corea said nothing. She watched the men work, harvesting different things from the corpse. Fang had grabbed his tusks and tossed them into a bag. He began to cut strips of flesh from the jowls and laid them out over the snout. Corea figured he planned to dry out the meat.
“Need the eye jelly?” Fang asked.
Erryl paused his work. He’d cut several large squares of thick skin from the back and was now inspecting thick bristles along the sections. He plucked at one, inspecting it carefully.
“The intact eye. Full thing, try not to break the sack, it’ll ruin the jelly.”
“Not very delicate, friend,” Fang muttered. He glanced at Corea, who had timidly approached him. She sat in front of him and gestured to the intact eye. Fang nodded.
She pulled out her kitchen knife and began to prod the socket, careful not to pierce the eyeball itself. She was so engrossed in the task she nearly missed Fang’s sniffing as he continued to carve at the jowls.
“You smell like an abattoir,” he muttered. Corea laughed under her breath.
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