Paladin of Souls - Lois McMaster Bujold [43]
Ista felt it first as a wave of emotion: hot, confused menace; pain and desperation; a terrible shortness of breath. A moment later, her horse planted all four feet and came to an abrupt, trembling halt. Its head came up sharply, and it snorted.
From the shadows of the trees, the bear charged. Its head was lowered, its great shoulder crest stood up, its bronze fur rippled like water in the slanting afternoon light. It moved incredibly fast for such a bulky, low-slung creature, and its snarl split the air like a saw.
Every horse and mule in the party tried to wheel and bolt. The young guard ahead of Ista, Pejar, swung left as his panicked mount shied right, and they parted company. Ista didn’t see him hit the ground, for her own horse reared then, squealing. Too late, she tried to shorten her reins, grab mane. Her saddle pommel hit her hard in the stomach, her saddle jerked away from under her, and then the ground came up in a whirl, knocking her wind half out. Dizzied, she rolled to her feet, missing her lunge for a flapping rein.
Horses were galloping away in all directions, their furious riders sawing at their reins in an effort to regain control. Pejar’s horse, its saddle empty, was far down the track already, Ista’s horse bucking and kicking in its wake. The young man, flat on the ground, was staring up in terror as the drooling bear loomed over him. Was the animal mad, to so attack? Ordinarily these mountain bears were elusive, shy; and this was no mother defending cubs, but a large male.
It’s not a bear. Or—not only a bear. Gasping, fascinated, Ista staggered nearer. Despite the initial impression of terrifying energy, it wasn’t a well bear, either. Its fur, now that she saw it more closely, was mangy, falling out in patches, and despite its large frame, its flesh was thin. Its legs trembled. It stared up at Ista as if as fascinated by her as she was by it.
It seemed to her as though its essential bear-ness was almost eaten away, from the inside out. The eyes that stared back at her had a red intelligence that owed nothing to any animal mind. It has caught a demon. And the demon has nearly devoured it.
And now the rider seeks another mount.
“How dare you,” Ista grated. Not even a humble bear deserved this. You don’t belong here, demon. Go back to your accursed master. Their gazes locked; she stepped closer; the bear stepped back from the white-faced boy. Another step. Another. The bear-demon lowered its head almost to the ground, its eyes wide and white-ringed, snuffling, backing away in fear.
“Royina, I come!” With a grunting cry, Foix appeared from the corner of Ista’s vision, vest-cloak billowing, swinging his broadsword in a mighty arc. His lips were drawn back, strong teeth clenched with the effort of his strike.
“No, Foix!” Ista screamed, too late.
The heavy blade took the bear’s head in one blow, and went on to bury itself in the soil beneath. Blood burst briefly from the creature’s neck, and the head rolled away over the ground. One front paw spasmed; the big furry body dropped in a heap.
Ista seemed to see the demon with every sense but her eyes, a palpable force, a blood-tinged fire, a smell like hot metal. It roared toward her, then, suddenly, scrambled back in a sort of bestial terror. It hesitated a desperate moment between Foix and the boy on the ground. Then it flowed into Foix.
Foix’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, in a weirdly conversational tone. Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
CHAPTER SIX
L ISS WAS THE FIRST TO GET CONTROL OF HER MOUNT AND GALLOP back; she swung down off her bay, breathless with confusion and alarm. The groaning Pejar pushed himself up to a sitting position and boggled at the beheaded bear. His brow wrinkled in bewilderment at the sight of Foix lying on the ground beside the carcass, which still leaked hot blood. “Sir . . . ?”
The fall from her horse had shaken Ista’s stomach, but it was the concussion from the