Claimed By The Beast

2

I crawled on my hands backwards looking behind me as the fog rolled over the excavation camp, consuming the lanterns one by one in the white haze. My boots slid over the filth, my nails catching on the roots of the plants but I didn't stop until all I could see were the shapes of things moving through the mist.

There were six of them, now. They were massive, the fog clinging to them in wisps, revealing only the shine of dark metal plates and animal fur.

The one who had approached first stepped forward and I watched in horror as his bones twisted and restructured themselves into that of a man.

The others moved as soldiers might, in careful disciplined strides, and each was taller than any man I had ever seen, their shoulders broad, and their eyes burning coals in the gloom.

I didn not fully know what they were, I only knew that they did not belong there.

My back pressed against the black slab, and I had no choice but to wait as one of the figures stepped forward and the other fell back, until a rough half circle was formed around the front man. He was the largest, his chest plate of blackened iron inscribed with runes that my muddled brain couldn't decipher, a jagged wound of red old fabric snaking from his temple down his jaw to split his mouth into a sneer. He inhaled deeply, the mist rolling into his lungs, and something in his red eyes snapped and sharpened as he looked over me, taking me in.

He looked as though he had been hunting something.

"This one," The leader said, and the sound of his voice was like gravel dragged over stone, he spoke again in a foreign language, and two of his soldiers dropped to their knees, slinking past me towards the rest of my group, and I stumbled to my feet in panic.

"No!" I cried, lunging at their leader, my heart hammering in my throat, "You can not take them! Leave them alone!"

His hand shot out, closing around my throat, lifting me off my feet, my fingers scrabbling at iron bracelets and rough fur, finding nothing but immovable strength. He tilted his head, watching me struggle with a detached interest, and I went limp, my heartbeat pounding in my ears against his palm.

"Spirited," He rumbled finally, his free hand coming to circle my ribs idly, fingers splayed in false amusement, "he will like that."

I had no idea who 'he' was, and I didn't want to know.

The leader drew my body close, tightening his grip, and I choked, my vision swimming, my legs dangling helplessly as he hefted me over his shoulder. I looked down and saw the mud, saw the tools, saw Lira's pale face as she was rounded up with the others by the wolves, saw Bron's eyes lock onto mine over the snarling beasts, saw the determination blossom across his face as he ran towards us.

He did not get far.

The wolf that snapped at him tore through his ribs, and suddenly Bron was sprawled on the mud, his scream lost in the night, swallowed up by the thick loamy scent of the filth. I screamed for him, screamed until my throat was raw, until my fingers beat uselessly against the wolf's back that carried me, until my mouth was full of the metallic tang of blood and the trees had swallowed up all my cries. No one came to save me, the forest drank my screams down.

The wolf man that had killed him simply dropped back in line, his claws slick with the remnants of Bron's life, the blood dripping from them in thoughtful deliberate drops.

My carrier growled something under his breath, perhaps a name, and set off once more into the trees, the brush spinning past my eyes in a green and brown blur, until I could no longer tell when the scent of pine and night blooming flowers was truly the air, or the fur sliding against my cheek. My stomach twisted and I clenched my eyes tight, bile rising in my throat.

When I opened them again, the trees were falling away, and something else was rising to meet us in the sky.

A castle.

It was as black as the slab I had uncovered, black as the night itself, it's spires jagged and cruel, the clouds around it blooming sickly gold from some light within. Its walls of obsidian and iron stretched upwards impossibly, and from every window and tower torches burned a cold gold flame.

It wasn't dead.

It wasn't empty.

It was waiting.

The wolf man’s arm tightened around my waist, large claws sinking into my clothes, my ribs, and I felt the vibrations of his voice in my bones before I heard the words, a rough growl curling around my ear like smoke.

"The King has been waiting for you little human." His claws pressed deeper into my skin, a deliberate sting that drew a whimper from my clenched teeth.

"Pray he is patient."