Fantastic Creatures, page 18
“Are there other harpies near here?” Melinda asked.
The harpy let out a low hiss. “That blasted dragon hunted down and killed my family while they slept.”
So revenge had been the harpy’s motivation.
“And why did the dragon kill them?”
Another hiss sounded, and the harpy gnashed her teeth. They glistened and glittered like tiny daggers. “We might’ve gone after her treasure. She spotted us trying to grab some jewels. We gave them all back, but she just—”
“Fought to protect her treasure.”
The harpy narrowed her eyes and let out a screeching cry. She flew faster than Melinda would’ve thought possible, but the sword forced the harpy back. The winged beast had the advantage of higher ground, but the harpy’s fierce and frantic attack required too much energy. Melinda almost lazily moved the sword to block each would be blow until the harpy’s human face twisted with exhaustion.
Melinda’s arm muscles screamed, but she held her ground, waiting, biding her time, and when the harpy took a wild swipe at her, Melinda finally switched from defense to offense, and with a strong hack, she brought the sword down on the harpy’s neck.
It wasn’t a fierce enough blow to kill the harpy, but it sent her spiraling to the mountainside. At once, Melinda darted forward and stomped on the harpy’s wing to prevent her from flying away.
“I wear your face!” the harpy said. “I’m part human. That dragon—"
Melinda’s sword cut off the harpy’s speech as it severed the head from its body. Her stomach lurched as she picked it up to give the dragon proof of the kill, and she returned to the dragon’s treasure room.
Already the dragon was healing herself, transforming before Melinda’s eyes from a weak, feeble, dying creature to her darker, stronger form.
Melinda walked over, dragging the sword beside her. “Here,” she said, opting to talk out loud instead of with her mind.
The dragon peeked open an eye. ‘You did it. Good.’ She closed her eyes.
Melinda lingered.
Without opening her eyes, the dragon added, ‘Why are you still here? You got what you wanted. Now go.’
“Did you kill that harpy’s family?”
‘Is that what she said? Damn harpy. Probably also said she went after my treasure, too.’
“What did she go after?”
Doomia puffed smoke once, twice, three times. Melinda figured the dragon wouldn’t answer when she finally mindspoke, ‘She ate my eggs.’
Melinda gasped. “I’m—”
‘I don’t want your apologies. Just go.’
Melinda glanced at the treasure mound on last time. “Goodbye.”
‘If you come back, I won’t hesitate to kill you.’
“Mayhap I could earn more jewels.”
The dragon roared, a loud and booming sound that filled the cave, almost like a laugh. ‘Like I would willingly give an undeserving human my treasure. I told you to leave.’
‘I’m going. I’m going.’
Melinda exited the cave, the moon a swollen silver orb high in the sky. She quickly killed three wild fowl. One she cooked and ate. Although she had no coin, she was able to sweet talk a bartender for a room at the tavern. In exchange, she gave him the other two fowl.
She had done it. She had lived through the greatest thrill of her life.
Already she was thinking that she just might be getting strong enough to take on Helga the Horrific herself.
Bright light poured into the room. Melinda stretched, causing the jewels in her coin purse to jingle. The first leg of her promise complete, she hurried to the blacksmith and dumped the jewels onto the table.
Drake eyed the gems, carefully inspecting each piece before placing them back down. He lovingly caressed the opal. “You not only survived, you got more than you needed.”
“I did. Will you imbue the sword with all of them?” Melinda held up the sapphire, the fire in the background causing the dark blue gem to sparkle and shine.
“The protection stone. Said to increase intelligence, but I can’t say I’ve actually seen any proof to that claim.” He spun the opal in his hands. “But this gem, this gem. I’m surprised you picked it....”
“The name’s Melinda, and I only grabbed the first ones I saw, after getting the pyrite and sapphire that is.”
“That’s what you think. Regardless, the opal is a powerful stone.”
“In what way?”
“The opal causes the wearer to grow. People aren’t the same after they use an opal for long periods of time.” Drake stared at her. “You want me to adhere them all to your sword’s hilt? Even the opal? Not just the amethyst and pyrite?”
Melinda bit her lip. “Yes. Go ahead.”
“As you desire. Come back in a fortnight. Your sword will be ready then.” He carried the stones next to his anvil.
Melinda turned to the door, but a nagging memory tugged at her. What stone had I grabbed when Doomia startled me? She cleared her throat, and Drake glanced at her, an eyebrow rising. “Tell me about a citrine.”
“Ah, the citrine. A true jewel. They help to realize all your dreams, makes all your desires come true. Wealth, happiness, success. A rare gem in this world. Powerful. Did you manage to get one?”
“No.” A wave of disappointment settled around her. Everything she could have wanted. But Melinda just nodded. “I’ll be back in a fortnight. Be certain the sword is ready.”
Drake set about his work, and Melinda watched for a moment. The flames danced and licked higher as he adjusted the temperature. The stones glowed in the small room, bright shapes of blue and purple lighting up the entire room.
When he grabbed the sword, ready to meddle with the hilt, Melinda left. By helping Drake with his revenge, she was increasing the chances she’d one day avenge her parents, too.
The fortnight passed quickly, and Melinda found herself anxious to retrieve her newly-enchanted blade. As soon as the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, Melinda strolled through the smithy’s open door.
Drake stood beside the anvil, the sword in his hand, pointing downward. He lifted it up and held it across his hands. Melinda admired his handiwork. The jewels clustered near the blade, below the lion head and wings. A soft whisper resonated from the sword, humming with magical properties, enchanted beyond measure. Even the blade of the sword appeared different, a slight blue shine replaced its earlier dullness.
“It looks wonderful.” Melinda reached out to reclaim the prized sword, but Drake grasped the hilt firmly. “Don’t worry. I won’t fail.”
He handed over the sword and held up his hands in frustration. Pain and despair warred in his eyes as they again began to cloud. “Please, I beg of you, succeed where I have failed.”
“I so swear.”
Hilfalls carried a sense of wretchedness. The entire town seemed dead. Desolation and loneliness drifted on the wind. Dirt and dust covered everything. An eerie silence echoed the isolation as she crept forward. Dead bodies littered the streets, their faces contorted with pain, their bodies covered with blood long since dried. Her stomach churned at the sight.
Many of the windows were broken, the houses ransacked, furniture overturned, possessions of the dead long gone. Thieves preying on the dead. Rodents of convenience, stealers of heart, sucking the soul from those no longer living. Damn vultures.
The sound of rushing water drew Melinda to a cracked fountain. Water still dripped, mixing with the dirt, and muddied up her feet. Must be recent destruction. Frostclaw is close by.
Behind the fountain, Melinda discovered another body. This one still had a knife in one hand, the other clutching his swollen coin purse. One of the thieves. Glad he got what he deserved. Deep purple bruises had formed on his skin in the shape of a small broken “v.”
Stones littered the ground, pieces of the houses. This Glatisant has certainly done damage to the entire town, not just its people. Must be one fearsome creature.
A low rumbling whispered on the breeze, but as Melinda turned in a circle, she couldn’t distinguish the source. A sudden rush of wind from above her head, and the clattering on the roofs startled her. She nearly lost her balance as Frostclaw landed in front of her.
A hideous creature, part snake, lion, leopard, and deer. The serpent head and neck glanced around, long and sleek, even turning its head completely around. The small beady eyes on either side of its head forced the creature to constantly move its head to resume focus on Melinda.
Frostclaw continually barked, sounding like a wild pack of hounds set loose on a hunt. It had yellow eyes with the darkest black orbs, small nose slits and, despite the scales on its neck, a sleek almost smooth appearance. Its small tongue continually flickered in and out of its pink mouth, dripping with venom.
Its body was yellow-orange, speckled with rosettes, like a leopard, and turned to a lighter buff color toward its haunches. Swatting the black tuft of its tail at swirling bugs from the rotting corpses, the Glatisant continued to eye Melinda, and she shivered. This is not a monster. This creature has intelligence.
It pawed the ground. Its short legs ended with the hooves of a hart. The two separate cleats had made the broken “v” impressions on the bodies.
Without warning, the creature darted forward, its body barreling toward her. She sidestepped and brought up the sword, but Frostclaw continued forward, running away.
It had killed so many innocents already, was it teasing her, testing her? It turned back around, as if waiting for her, and when she raised the sword, the creature reared before jumping over some stones and behind a building, out of sight.
Now there was no question. The creature wanted her to give chase. So she did. The barking never ceased. She passed many more bodies, her anger at the creature mounting. Although no one she knew had died, the idea that an intelligent creature could knowingly seek out and destroy an entire village caused Melinda’s stomach to clench and her teeth to grind. A fleeting thought of her parents made her throat swell up, and Melinda burst forward.
Judging from the barking, the mutant hybrid hid behind the next building. Melinda passed it and hurried down the next alley. The creature’s barking became louder, and it lowered its reptilian head just before Melinda slashed. The sword felt lighter than ever, and the tingle up her arm reminded her of the magic now dwelling within it. The Glatisant backed up several steps as Melinda brought the sword back up, but the creature turned and ran before she could follow through with the arc. She barely missed, chopping off the hairy tuft.
Round and round the ruined village they ran. Frostclaw seemed to enjoy the chase, constantly turning its head around to see if she still followed and never showing any signs of wearing down nor making any attempt to fight back. It’s almost like this is some kind of game. Well, I’m not laughing. And I’m done playing.
Melinda spied a ladder. She shoved the sword back into its sheath and climbed. When she reached the roof, she quickly aimed and fired. The arrow narrowly missed the animal. It stopped and glared at her, its tongue flicking upward. Backtracking, the creature rammed its shoulder into the ladder with such force the entire wooden building shuddered. Melinda leaped to the next rooftop and fired again. The creature ran forward, and Melinda pursued from above, trying to find a decent shot. But I don’t want to waste all my arrows. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a word could command them to return? Boomerang arrows.
She leaped to another building, this one higher. Her fingers gripped the stone roof, and she clawed her way to the top. Precious seconds passed, and the creature continued its course. Melinda pulled herself up and glanced around. Frostclaw neared the edge of the village and zoomed toward the nearby forest. Melinda fired one more shot, but the creature’s tail knocked it away before it hid behind some trees.
Damnable monster!
She raced to the edge of the roof, tossed down her weapons and quiver, grabbed onto the ledge, and dropped down to the ground, ducking into a roll as she landed to prevent injury. Coughing on the dust, she was forced to pause a moment to catch her breath, and then she retrieved the sword and quiver and grabbed the last discarded arrow. All in all, her endurance seemed stronger than ever, and she could only assume that the pyrite was doing its job.
She thundered through the forest, slashing through the underbrush. The barking sounded all around her. A sudden movement on the forest floor caught her eye, and she stabbed. A small garden variety snake dangled from the sword. Her foot removed the dead animal. The barking became louder, and a sharp pain pinched Melinda’s right arm. She howled and dropped the sword. The venom quickly spread, and her right arm refused to move. The poison must be paralytic. She whirled around and shoved the arrow into Frostclaw’s neck. The creature yelped and ran away, the arrow still lodged.
Melinda grabbed the sword and gave chase. Years ago, she had learned how to use both hands with a regular sword, but it had been years since she had practiced, and this sword was much heavier than an ordinary one. Her one arm hung like a dead weight at her side, causing her balance to shift, slowing her down.
Why isn’t the amethyst working? Or is it preventing the venom from spreading to the rest of my body?
Melinda tripped over a tree root, landing on her stomach, and the remaining arrows in her quiver tumbled over her head. A heavy weight pressed onto her back, and a snake slithered through her hair and onto her shoulder. The forked tongue licked her ear before it reached forward, trying to grab an arrow in its mouth. Stretching so far allowed Melinda to see another arrow protruding from its neck. Melinda attempted to lift herself up and to shove the creature from her back, but her right arm refused to cooperate, and the creature weighed too much for her to roll it off. She jabbed wildly with the sword. Yelps again replaced the barking, music to Melinda’s ears. Frostclaw retreated half a step, enough for Melinda to roll herself beneath the creature as she brought the sword in a sweeping arc and sliced off its head.
The yelps turned to a loud shriek, coming from the monster’s belly, and the deer hooves danced before buckling, dark liquid spraying from its neck wound. Blood covered Melinda as she climbed to her feet and thrust the sword into the creature’s belly and again into its heart. Finally, the Glatisant stopped moving, the shrieks ceasing.
Melinda put the sword away and wiped some blood from her face. Her fingers began to tingle, and she tried to form a fist. Her fingers hardly moved. The blood is poisonous, too.
Slowly she reached for the hilt and touched the amethyst. Strange warmth pulsated from the gem, and the heat spread throughout her body, through her fingers to her chest, even to her numb right arm. Gripping the hilt with fingers that now moved surer, Melinda rubbed the amethyst where the snake had bitten her. A sharp electric shock caused her to cry out. The scent of burning flesh wafted to her nose, and she gagged. Black liquid bubbled from the wound. It dripped onto the ground, causing a sizzling sound when it hit some grass, burning it to ash. Finally, Melinda could feel her arm again.
Melinda tore a large portion of her shirt. In case all of Frostclaw’s body was poisonous, she dared not risk touching the head directly. She wrapped it in the cloth and carried it. On the way back through the forest, she picked up her arrows. She deposited them back into her quiver, but they fell through, and she had to collect them again. Wonderful. Perhaps I can convince Drake to make me one for free.
Melinda hurried back to the blacksmith’s shop. His eyes brightened when he saw her. She handed him the wrapped head. Drake uncovered it, brought it to his face, and whispered words of hatred that weren’t quite audible. Glancing up, he started, surprised. “Why are you still here? I already gave you your reward.”
“I need a new quiver. The Glatisant destroyed it.”
Drake’s brows furrowed, and he nodded toward the wall with the blades. Along the floor were some bows, arrows, and quivers.
She secured the largest one and walked outside. The powerful sun’s rays blinded her. When her vision cleared, her gaze fell upon Mount Gravel in the nearby distance.
What had the dragon called her?
Ah, yes. Melinda the Adventurer.
Yes, indeed.
And her next adventure would be to avenge her parents.
She was ready.
Nicole Zoltack loves to write fantasy and paranormal stories. Her works include the Magic Incarnate series about a devout girl who learns she is magic itself and the Heroes of Falledge trilogy. She’s also a freelance editor and a ghostwriter. When she’s not writing about knights, superheroes, or witches, she enjoys spending time with her loving husband, three energetic young boys, and precious baby girl. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they’re unicorns, of course!) and going to the PA Renaissance Faire, dressed in garb. She’ll also read anything she can get her hands on. Her current favorite TV shows are The Walking Dead and Gotham.
NicoleZoltack.com
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Destiny’s Flight
The loud pounding on my cottage door drove the pleasant dreams from my mind and forced me awake. I wrenched myself away from my place against my wife’s back. Pulling on my tunic and leggings, I wondered what the early visitor wanted. Since I served the Father as a miracle man, my first thought was that someone was injured or sick. Was it Byron’s mother? The young boy spent so much time sick that Kelestria had joked we should move into the cottage next to theirs. The rays slanting through the window announced the dawn had barely broken. Perhaps Kathryn had been kicked when milking her cow. She might have forgotten to warm her hands first. The news was probably bad; those who wanted me to bless their fields waited until after breakfast.
“Derke! Cousin! Open the door!” The banging continued.
Ah, it was neither of those. My cousin, Sir Manegold Osias, had stopped while passing through the area. Though entitled to stay at the nearby castle of our liege lord, he preferred to stay at the rectory of our village priest. He and I were very close; our mothers were sisters. He, my wife, and I had talked long into the night.
