Talos and Cyrus

Chapter 9 - They who Dwell Unknown

"What in the name of Vishap was that?" Talos snarled, his entire body frozen, his eyes searching the trees. Cyrus sat on the grass, staring at the spot the creature stood just seconds before.

"I've read about them, heard terrifying stories of their doings. I thought they were mythical, monsters of legend." he breathed, his heart like a drum in his chest. A terror like no other he had felt before struck him, a fear he didn't feel even when the feletics were upon him. He'd had nightmares of these creatures, nightmares that rendered him sleepless for many a night when he was young. Flossie stood still beside him, her creaking knees wobbling in only the slightest.

Talos turned his head sharply in Cyrus' direction.

"What was that abomination of nature?" he barked. Cyrus remained silent, too terror-stricken to speak. Talos roared, ripping him from is horrified trance.

"What was that?" the dragon bellowed, his wings snapping open. Cyrus gulped and fought to regain his voice.

"I-It was a Sheta Wolf, creatures from the ancient books. They are a terrible omen, death follows wherever they tread. I-I thought they were fantasy, just stories to frighten young children. Talos, we must leave, now."

The fear in Cyrus' voice made Talos' lip curl.

"I am not afraid of that creature." he growled.

Cyrus shook his head weakly.

"No you don't understand. They never-"

High pitched cries sounded in every direction, piercing Cyrus' ears with a blood curdling chill. His hands flew up to cover them and he screwed up his face, willing the sound to go away. He saw Flossie bucking her head around and he could almost hear her screams. Talos remained on his rock, wincing and shaking his head back and forth to rid himself of the awful sound. Almost all at once, countless yellow eyes appeared in the dark woods, their gazes heavy. Cyrus looked about him wildly, desperately trying to find a direction run in, a direction to flee. There was no escape.

"... Travel alone." Cyrus whispered.

As abruptly as they started, the high pitched cries ceased and they were left with the innumerable, suffocating stares from the black wolves. Talos roared and wheeled backwards, challenging the wolves to show themselves. He leapt from his boulder and landed beside Cyrus, a deep snarl rolling in his throat. Cyrus heard Flossie scream and before he could make a grab for her reins, the elkorse darted away, barreling straight for the perilous woods. She disappeared amongst the thick bushes and dark trees, her terrified whinnies stopping abruptly after several moments. Cyrus felt his heart plummet and he heaved himself to his feet, forcing his eyes to meet the ones in the forest. Talos' bellows shook the ground where he stood and he felt a nauseating sickness begin to brew in his core, threatening to double him over. There was a sudden movement in the corner of his eye and Cyrus turned to it, his hair falling into his eyes. A heavy force slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground again. Cyrus could barely scream as his head slammed into the grass, his vision spinning relentlessly. He felt something sharp brush his neck and he tried to call out for Talos, but no sound was in his throat, no air in his lungs. He saw rotten teeth close around the front of his shirt and felt short whiskers tickle his ear. A massive Sheta Wolf jerked him around roughly and Cyrus briefly saw Talos grappling with two black wolves. They nipped at his feet, disgusting snarls erupting from their bellies. Cyrus yelled to him again, but it was far too late. The Sheta Wolf dragged him across the clearing and towards the looming dark woods. Terror made his heart skip.

"Talos!" Cyrus screeched one last time, his voice ragged. The dragon didn't hear him.

Brambles caught his thin pants as he was dragged mercilessly by the black wolf and he cried out as thorns pierced his thigh. He struggled to grab hold of his leather satchel that hung from his shoulder, but he was being jerked around so much that his fingers couldn't undo its latch. He could feel his sword fumbling around inside. He cursed himself for not wearing his scabbard.