Winter's Blade (Bind)
Emmeline felt the terrible creature staring at her, its seething contempt coiling and slithering across her soul. Death itself had surely come for her. Her heart kicked in her chest like desperate prey.
The beast's thick chiseled arm rose from its side, its skin like rippling stone armor, a three-fingered hand clenching into a fist the size of a man's head.
And then something that began like distant rolling thunder gathered and swelled and surrounded, at once carnivorous growl and chilling whisper and bone-rattling tremor:
"You... persist..."
Emmeline looked into the beast's eyes; it seemed... perplexed.
It had sent a swarm of monsters to clear its path. They'd killed her uncle, her grandfather, and her father. They'd taken the axe, and they'd nearly killed her.
She shouldn't have survived. Shouldn't have succeeded. Shouldn't be here.
And yet she *was* here. And she was armed.
But the beast's confusion faded. Its voice again boiled up, walls shuddering, air shimmering, flesh quivering...
"You... will not... escape me... again..."
The beast's other arm rose, both of its massive clawed hands opened...
...but Emmeline Winter did not run.
If such monsters could exist, if her father and grandfather before her had fought them, if she had been sent here, if so much was at stake, if her very presence gave the beast pause... then surely there was something to this, more than she could see.
She had to believe.
She would persist.
Emmeline's grip tightened around the neck of the axe, so tight her fingers burned. She stepped boldly forward.
Her voice was clear and unwavering.
"By Winter's hand, the blade is brought. It is *our* blood that binds."
The beast shifted backwards -- ever so slightly, but unmistakably.
Emmeline's grip shifted, and she raised the axe in front of her.
But then the beast seemed to... smile. "You... do not know... what that means..."
With frightening speed, the beast lunged forward, reaching across what had seemed like a safe distance just an instant before, its great clawed hand swatting right in front of Em, ripping the axe out of her hands, sending it flying out of reach.
Em felt something shove her hard to the floor; the light overhead dimmed for a moment, and the air seemed to split and tumble around her.
Alex rolled as soon as his shoulder hit the floor, but it still hurt like hell; he wound up on his back, an arm's length from Em... and the beast loomed directly over him. The first swipe had sent the axe flying... somewhere. The second would have taken their heads off.
Em was already starting to recover from Alex's desperate tackle, but the beast was hardly slow. Alex saw the thing's leg, and kicked at it, as hard as he could.
The beast straightened up; its angry roar made Alex's vision blur. Alex kicked again, but hit nothing. Then he saw the beast's weight shift, and its leg swung... Alex tried to roll out of the way, but only rolled into the path of the beast's foot. It hit him like a charging boar. Alex saw only a blur of lights as he went skidding across the smooth granite floor, until he slammed into the wall.
Em found herself on her stomach; she managed to get to her hands and knees. The floor darkened with the beast's looming presence, and the panicked girl scrambled to escape, stockings slipping and skin gripping, legs pistoning, hands slapping and squeaking against the cold hard stone. At any moment she expected to feel the thing on top of her, but somehow she managed to keep ahead...
...until she found herself trapped in a corner.
Emmeline flipped over, pushing herself against the wall, trying to get her feet beneath her; maybe she could run, somehow duck past the beast...
...but hope gave way to sheer terror as she looked up and saw the hulk towering over her, one massive stony fist raised nearly to the ceiling, hovering as the monster's fiery black orbs stared down at her, its sharp-edged mouth cocking into an evil snarl, pausing to revel in her helplessness before it delivered the killing blow.
Suddenly the beast's body lurched forward; its hand smashed awkwardly into the wall above Em. It threw its head back and let loose an agonized roar.
The beast pushed itself off the wall and staggered back, first one step, and then a second, twisting its torso around as it seemed to reach for something behind it...
...and as it turned, Emmeline saw the axe lodged between its shoulders, and Alex, stooped over and staggering, halfway across the lobby.
Alex fell to one knee, and then to one hand; the world wouldn't stop shifting, and his head felt like it was in a lopsided lead helmet. But he looked up and saw that his aim had been true. The beast reared back and turned, its arm twisted around, reaching for the axe.
He saw Em stand, and push herself off the wall... if she could just get past the beast while it was distracted...
Em forced herself to her feet. The beast kept twisting and reaching, over the shoulder, then underhanded, clawed fingers grasping for the axe handle. It was almost completely turned around now; Em had to make a break for it.
She pushed herself off the wall, ducking beneath the beast's boulder-like arm. She could see the lobby doors now; she was going to make it...
...but something pulled taut between her shoulder blades, yanking her up off her feet, swinging her around...
Alex felt his cheek hit the cold floor, but it was the way the beast threw Em back into the corner like a rag doll that hurt him the most. She slid limply into a helpless puddle.
The beast reared back, arching grotesquely, arm muscles bulging, until long thick fingers finally got a grip on the axe handle. The thing seemed to take a deep breath, then its arm flexed; and Alex saw the axe, looking like a toy tomahawk, pulled loose and held between two of the beast's fingers. The beast roared again in earth-shaking fury, and then turned toward its fallen prey.
Alex heard the axe head hit the floor, ringing like a bell.
He tried to get up, but he just toppled over again. The world wouldn't stop spinning... He dragged himself forward, reaching toward Emmeline, knowing that she was about to die, knowing that he was failing her...
Bang! The sound was not so earth-shaking as the beast's roar, but loud and sharp.
The beast twitched. There was something sticking out of its left shoulder, like... a needle and thread, but much bigger. The thread drew taut...
The beast straightened up and began to turn...
Then its shoulder yanked violently backwards. It twisted around, staggering sideways, blinking in surprise.
Alex looked where it looked, toward the lobby entrance. There stood a bear of a man, thick white beard framed in the oversized collar of a maroon leather coat, matching beret cocked low over one eye, holding a coil of slender cord in one hand and brandishing a very large-barreled gun with the other.
Old Man Winter.
"About time somebody put you on a leash," he snarled.
The coiled end of the spear's line fell; Alex's eye followed it to the floor. The old man's heavy boot shifted, trapping the cord beneath it.
Something small hit the floor near the other boot. Bright red. Wet. Alex looked up. The old man's coat had no left sleeve; his bare forearm, covered in scars, glistened with fresh blood. Alex took a closer look at Emmeline's grandfather. Black cargo pants were heavily abraded on the side of the knee; the leather coat's color was scraped away at the hip. The old man's chest heaved with big, fast breaths, the deeply-creased olive-gray skin of his cheeks vibrating like old bellows; there was a tremor in the hand that wiped grimy sweat from his hard-set brow, replacing it with a thin streak of blood. Alex saw the glass double doors of the entrance beyond, each smeared with a bloody handprint.
Nicholas Winter was in rough shape.
But as he stared down the menacing creature twice his size, his eyes showed no fear, only fierceness.
"Your ambush at the airstrip... going after my granddaughter... almost finished us. But your elves came up a little *short*. And now," he sneered, his boot tapping on the spear's line, "so will you."
The beast's arm reached across its chest and over its shoulder, its whetstone-like fingers curling around the fragile-looking spear. The trailing line quivered as the beast's grip tightened on the thin steel rod. The beast's arm jerked; the spear's shaft bowed briefly but did not break.
The beast's head snapped around, its big black orbs bulging wide for a moment before narrowing to determined slits. A polyphonic grunt made the nearby axe head jingle against the granite floor. The beast tightened its grip, sandy skin shifting over coiling chiseled muscles.
Its stone fist lurched hard forward, bending the tail of the spear up over the shoulder; Alex was sure it would snap like a twig under such force, but it did not. The beast strained to pull it further, but its grip was slipping; the sound of steel scraping stone echoed across the room as the slender rod defied the great beast. Finally the spear rang free and hummed straight like a tuning fork, its song quickly overwhelmed by the deafening blast of the beast's agony and rage.
The beast's shoulders sagged. It took a great breath and shook its head clear. It turned slowly toward Nick, the spear's delicate-looking line slipping beneath its armpit. It pawed at the line clumsily, grunting as it drew taut. Somehow the line held.
Alex looked back toward the old man; Nick had stepped back, and the spear line appeared to be anchored to the floor. Alex thought of the scene in "Die Hard" where the bad guys used a special nail gun to secure a rocket launcher to concrete...
"You all right kid?"
Nick was staring grimly at the beast as he tugged another spear loose from his belt; the coiled line fell to the floor. It took Alex a moment to realize the old man was talking to him.
Alex managed at last to get to his feet. "I'll live," he said, realizing after he'd said it that it was a bolder statement than he'd intended.
Nick grunted, a sound of both doubt and approval. He loaded the spear into the gun with the deftness of experience. He grabbed the spear gun mid-barrel with his opposite hand and pulled; the gun's grip loosed from the man's gloved hand with a rubbery pop.
"One shot," Nick said; he turned and bowled the gun across the floor toward Alex, the spear's line uncoiling behind it. The gun thumped against Alex's foot. Alex looked up at Nick. "Don't miss."
Alex looked at the beast; the beast looked at him. They both seemed to figure it out at the same moment. Alex lunged down for the spear gun; the beast surged forward, toward Nick -- and the shielding safety of the thick granite pillar.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Nick moving, leaning down and grasping his thigh and stepping forward. But he couldn't worry about what Nick was doing; Alex was supposed to be shooting the beast. He raised the gun; the spear already had blood on it. Nick's blood. Alex's finger fumbled for the trigger. --Shit, that thing moved fast! It would be behind the pillar before he could get a shot off...
BLAM!
A gunshot rang Alex's ears. But he hadn't fired...
The beast stopped suddenly, then staggered back a step. Its bray of surprise was loud enough to blur Alex's vision a moment, but the instant it cleared, he took his shot...
The spear gun kicked like a mule; its report smacked his ears.
The beast squealed.
Its hand fell to the spear lodged above its right hip. It looked down at the spear, then up at Alex.
It looked angry.
Massive shoulders pivoted in Alex's direction; the thing's broad chest swelled as it took a great breath, then its whole body distended forward in a bone-rattling roar.
Alex staggered back, dropping the empty spear gun.
The beast straightened, coiled, and charged.
Alex backpedalled frantically, his eyes locked on the beast's by mortal terror. Dizziness made the world shift to one side; he fell, smacking the hard floor, scrambling desperately backwards. The room seemed to darken as the beast surged closer, its arm extended, its three clawed fingers splayed like scissors...
...but it stopped suddenly, straightening up awkwardly; its flailing swat at Alex came up short. The beast seemed off-balance, losing its footing, staggering back, turning, looking over its left shoulder...
...and Alex saw the shoulder spear quiver, its line drawn taut back around the lobby pillar and over to where Nick still stood.
BLAM!
Another gun blast. Alex saw the beast's skin peppered with shot. It shrugged violently, looking down at its left side, poking at one of the small sizzling red flesh wounds with an exploratory claw.
The beast drew breath; its voice boiled forth. "You are... not enough..."
Nick stepped boldly forward; his good hand choked up on the second spear line that lay slack between them. He raised the shotgun higher, staring down the barrel and into the beast's ink-black eyes. Blood dripped steadily from his forearm to speckle the smooth granite floor.
"I'm not dead yet," he spat.
Alex eyed the distance from the beast to the pillar, and from the pillar to the old man, each about thirty feet. If Nick stepped any closer...
BLAM!
This one caught the beast in the face. With a thunderous growl it charged. Nick reached and hauled in another arm's length of slack, looping it over his forearm before two-handing the shotgun and drawing a lowered bead on the beast's chest. The weapon blazed away like a machine gun, hailing lead and spraying shells, muffling the beast's war cry but not slowing its advance. By its fourth stride it had nearly reached the old man, and Alex could see that it would not come up short this time...
The beast's right hand whipped around, catching Nick in the ribs; Alex heard a metallic scrape as Nick was flung sideways, slamming into the far wall. The old man ragdolled down off the bench to the floor.
Alex thought Nick was dead, until the old man gasped and coughed and spit blood with a splat on the gold granite. Nick lifted his head, his face creased with equal parts pain and resolve; he looked at the beast and managed a grim chuckle between ragged breaths. "You'll have to do better than that."
The beast looked furious. It lunged forward, only to have its shoulder stopped short by the spear line. It looked over that shoulder now, back to the pillar, and then back to Nick. It took a half-step toward the pillar... then looked down at the other spear embedded above its hip, its three-clawed hand falling to the end of the shaft and running several feet along the slender cord, its eyes visually tracing the line back to the old man...
The massive hand clenched into a fist around the cord and yanked viciously inward. The cord went taut -- but Nick did not let go, and he was not hauled across the floor toward his doom. The beast jerked forward, staggering and then catching its balance; the line sagged.
Nick rolled over on his side, revealing his end of the line, anchored to the floor (judging from the line tension) amid a fresh puddle of blood. Nick's left arm slid limply off his side, his prosthetic hand thumping against the granite, his blood-soaked forearm hair matted and sticky. A fresh rivulet seeped from an open cut and dripped into the puddle.
Nick grunted with pyrrhic triumph. "I've got you now, you son-of-a-bitch."
The beast wheeled around, left, then right, the tensioned spears tugging at its hard flesh. It could move no more than a few feet in any direction. It gripped the hip spear with both hands, wrenching at it once, twice, three times, grunting with greater agony each time. On the third pull the spear seemed to shift, its angle changing slightly, the first inch of the shaft coated with a thick gritty green-black muck.
Nick pushed himself into a sitting position. "Hey kid," he grunted.
"Tell me what to do," Alex answered. He stood; his dizziness wasn't gone, but it was manageable. He looked toward the axe, expecting the old man to ask him to get it...
"No!" Nick coughed. "Just get her outta here." Nick rose up on one knee, sucking in a sharp breath. He unsheathed a gruesome-looking machete from behind his back, using it like a cane to get him to his feet. "I'll keep this bastard busy."
Alex rushed across the lobby to the far corner; Emmeline was still out cold. Alex knelt down to pick her up. It was a lot harder than it looked in the movies...
He'd just gotten her limbs sorted and was getting ready to lift when she twitched violently.
"Ah!" she squealed. She kicked and squirmed, trying to get free; Alex had to let go just to defend himself.
"Em, stop, it's me, Alex! Remember?"
Em scrambled to her feet, but she was even more unsteady than Alex, leaning against the wall and tugging on his shoulder. "Of course I remember!" she half-whispered, half-shrieked. Her eyes blinked rapidly as her head darted rapidly about, getting her bearings. "Did it get away? Where's the axe?" She jerked back suddenly, nearly losing her balance. "It's still here! What's happening? Where's the axe?"
She was confused; a concussion at least. Alex hoped that's all it was. "Your grandfather's here. He's-"
"Get her outta here!" the old man shouted.
The beast's bellow made the whole building tremble.
"Granddad!" Em squealed, trying to get around Alex; he used that to move them along the back wall. But after just a few steps she stumbled, and the pair of them nearly fell. Alex stopped and grabbed her arm, slinging it over his shoulders...
"Left of the elevators, there's a service hatch," Nick called out, his gruff voice cracking. "Tunnel leads to the back, too small for this bastard to follow." Alex heard the machete blade sing out from a glancing blow. "It'll buy you some time. Get far away, the Smiths..." There was a hollow thump; Nick grunted. "Smiths will find you."
"The car's out front--" Alex started, but his voice was lost to an overwhelming wall of noise.
Alex turned.
The beast had a ragged chunk missing from above its right hip. The spear fell from one stone hand; the machete dangled from the other. Nicholas Winter lay beyond, limbs askew, staring at nothing with sightless eyes.