Snowberry's Veil

Part 7

Yet I was not going to let the beast take my deer. I was not likely to get another try for days, and I needed those supplies immediately. The skin was too close for me to get it without being spotted, and I wasn't going to be able to avoid those eyes. One set was back far enough I was sure it allowed vision almost around to the back of its head. There had to be a way, and I had to find it. If it hauled that deer up to the top of the tree where it was resting, perhaps where its nest was, I'd likely never get it back – and this could be one of many. I had heard they even tended to live with other, more mundane spiders – at least other than their size. Spiderlings they were called, as big as dogs; or worse those gigantic canopy spiders, although I'd seen none of their conspicuous webbing in the trees.

The attercop moved down the tree to its meal and I shook my head. This was not going to end well, and I felt bad. I'm sorry I failed you Thealea, I won't even be back to help you set up your new home. I'm sorry Bran, you asked me to help escort the caravan and I failed you just a few days out. No one would even find my bones. Well, I suspected it would end this way some day: the wilds are not a safe place. Nothing would steal my food without a fight. I pulled arrows out of my sack and stuck them in the ground in front of me, where they'd be easier to get and fire. Holding two perpendicular to each other, one straight up, the other nocked, I drew my bow and took a deep breath. Lord guide my shot, I thought and fired, then drew and fired the second arrow as swiftly as I could. Without caring where they'd hit, I grabbed two more and followed up a third shot.

As I was drawing my fourth shot, the attercop puzzled out where the shots were coming from, and charged. I'd hit it twice, once in the eye where I'd meant to and once inside the upper jaw while it's mouth was open to bite my food. There was no telling where the other shot had gone, nor which it was in the order. All things considered, I was happy with my marksmanship, but if I'd had my proper bow, the thing might have been dead by now. As it was, it just seemed really upset. I had fired the last shot I was going to get at this thing and started to draw my dagger when a screaming missile of fur shot out of the forest and slammed into the back of the creature, slightly on the blinded side. The attercop, taken by surprise, staggered with the impact, but did not fall thanks to its powerful spread spider legs.

It was the felpyr, apparently upset at the prospect of losing all that meat as I was. I wasn't surprised I had not seen it; they were virtually invisible when they wanted to be. Nor was I surprised to find it nearby; I had a feeling it was ghosting me around the forest with the curiosity of a cat. I was surprised to see it attack though. The felpyr tore into the huge attercop with all its claws and teeth, tearing at it with a fury that made me nervous inside at having it sleep next to my helpless form. It would reduce me to bones in short order with that kind of assault; it was wounding the Attercop noticeably. I drew two more of my arrows then noticed one of the heads had stuck in the dirt, leaving me a blunt stick. I was glad no one else was around to see me acting like an incompetent. Of all the tens of thousands of arrows I'd made in my life, now was the time one had to fall apart on me.

Firing the one good arrow, I pulled up the last two – my only two – arrows left. I was very unlikely to recover any of these, even the miss, which could be anywhere beyond the fight. I drew and aimed as carefully as I could, trying to keep on target as the attercop turned and roared and clawed, trying to get the rending beast off its back. I didn't think the felpyr really could kill it from that angle, but it certainly wasn't doing the thing any favors. I aimed for the mouth again, on the principle that it wasn't as tough inside as it was on the outside. The felpyr was drawing greenish blood, but not doing any serious damage. It was trying to bite the spine of the attercop, which probably would work on even a smaller ordinary bear, but this thing was enormous and armor plated. One shot presented its self and I loosed the arrow into the attercop's gullet. It flew true and into the creature's throat, cutting off its roar with a coughing, painful sound.

It wasn't dead, but it was hurt badly, I could tell. The attercop forgot the felpyr for the moment and looked around for me. By this point my arrow and the felpyr's claws had taken out all but one eye and that eye was washed with blood. It tried to roar and ended up screaming and coughing blood, then crawled unsteadily toward me. One more shot was all I had, and I didn't see any way to make it count like the last. The creature had been roaring loudly with a wide open bear's maw making the throat easier to hit, but now it was more cautious. There was only one shot left, try to get between those armor plates in an important spot. The trouble was what was important on such a creature? Was it like an ordinary bear inside, or were its vital organs down lower where the spider's body would be? I shuddered, watching it lurch toward me and tried to aim as steadily as I could.

How many shots had I taken? How many arrows had I let fly? Thousands of arrows in training, tens of thousands in my life. From competition to fighting orcs to hunting to practice, they all flew by my memory in a cascade of images. It was the same basic fluid motion every time, embedded in my bones and muscles like a memory in my brain. Fingers to fletching, fletching to shaft, shaft to bow, bow to target. Smooth draw, easy hold, let your breath out for a steady shot. I let the arrow fly and fancied I could watch it travel in the split second between my bow and the attercop's looming body. The arrow split two plates of the accursed chitin it had all over its hideous body, and sunk to the fletching in the throat of the attercop. I was hoping to hit spine, I'm not sure what was inside that creature other than poison, webbing, and my death.

The attercop screamed again, coughing its greenish blood and reached me. One paw slammed into me as I rolled away, sending me crashing though underbrush and up against a tree. The huge blunt claws didn't seem to make contact since I'd rolled under it, but the foreleg was so powerful and massive it was like being hit by a trebuchet arm. I rolled to my feet, looking for my dagger. I'd slung it with sinew in a bark wrapped sheath over my body like a sash, but it was not there now. I spotted the shine of the obsidian between me and the attercop, but because it was mostly blind it hadn't spotted me yet. Stupidly, slowly it was looking around as the felpyr continued to tear at it from behind. It was missing an ear, bleeding from its entire back, and I could see the white of bone in some places. It might kill me, it might kill the felpyr, but it would not see tomorrow.

I moved forward as carefully as I could and picked up my dagger. The blade was barely as long as my palm, but it was sharp as glass and would cut this creature. I ran, swinging wide to reach the side opposite the felpyr, unsure it would recognize me as friend in the midst of battle. The attercop's body was low, its spider legs scrambling and spread wide, unable to stand properly. I stabbed into the throat of the creature again and again with the knife, its green horrid smelling blood spurting over me and stinging my wounds. I hoped it wasn't poisonous as I struck over and over. The screaming kept on and on, and I realized it was the felpyr, the attercop, and me all crying our rage, fear, and determination to live at all costs. Then it was only me, and the felpyr had wisely backed off. The attercop was still alive, but unconscious and bleeding catastrophically. I sunk the dagger as deeply as I could into its one good eye and backed off, shaking and hoarse, breathing roughly.

After long moments of trying to catch my breath I began to laugh. If the blood was venomous, it was taking its time, and I just couldn't help myself. I'd just fought off a horrific monster with barely the tools to make myself dinner, and I'd won a terrific battle with the help of an unlikely ally. I looked around for the felpyr, but it was nowhere in sight.

I heard a voice behind me, speaking in a language I barely knew, say

"That was a mighty battle, warrior. I am sorry you will die."

Snowberry's Veil is on sale now in print and e-book form!

http://alphawolf10.wix.com/kestrelarts2#!snowberry/c1hqc