The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [53]
To kill an opponent, his mother had told him, you must be willing to look him in the eyes, know that you will have his blood on your hands and maybe in your mouth, and accept that there is no other way. If you hesitate, you are lost.
She had been a warrior, a Harper, and had often been called away for unknown missions. Her views and those of Haarn's father had often clashed, causing for great arguments. Even though his father and mother cared about many of the same things, the paths they took to arrive at the same destination were always different.
The wolf struck as the memories tumbled through Haarn's mind, as the druid was torn between giving life and taking life. Stonefur bowed his back, bringing his hind legs up and clawing with frantic effort.
Cold fire burned through Haarn's stomach and thighs. The claws ripped through his flesh and clothing. Knowing he was exposed in his present position, he abandoned it, throwing himself to the side. He felt blood coursing down his body and hammering at his temples as his heart thudded in his chest. He pushed his hands against the ground in an effort to get to his feet. The mud gave way, though, and he fell, bumping his face against a sharp-edged stone. When he lifted his head, he saw blood on the stone, then Stonefur's body blotted out a jagged fork of lightning that cut through the night sky. Before Haarn could shift, the wolf was on him.
Stonefur snarled and howled, throwing his weight across Haarn's body. His fangs snapped at the back of the druid's head, gouging deep cuts in his skull. Releasing the club, Haarn reached up with flagging strength and hooked his fingers into the wolfs fur.
I kill you, lifekeeper, the wolf snarled. J drink your blood. I eat of your flesh. I continue to hunt where I want- what I want.
Haarn levered his arm, trapping the wolf, then he used the animal's attempt to pull away and gain another attack to shift his own weight. The druid rolled, dizziness spinning in his head, feeling like he was trapped in a waking dream and moving in slow motion. He struck with the knife, grazing the huge wolfs flanks. On his knees now, he braced to meet Stonefur's attack. His fingers knotted in the wolfs fur felt the shift of muscles and weight that let him know the animal was coming again.
Stonefur's head slammed into Haarn's blood-streaked chest. For a moment, the druid thought the wolfs great strength and weight had broken his ribs. The air rushed from his lungs at the contact. Black spots swam in his vision, threatening blindness. His consciousness teetered on the edge of slipping away.
Broadfoot roared a thunderous challenge.
Haarn fought his own body. If he was lost, so were the bear and the woman. He drew another breath, staving off the waiting blackness, and focused on the wolf. His grip wasn't strong enough to control Stonefur. The wolf lunged at his throat. Haarn pulled the wolf to him then, catching the creature off-guard.
Clasping the wolf to him, Haarn fell backward. He hooked his knife hand behind the wolfs back, afraid that if he didn't hold the wolf close that Stonefur would rip his throat out. The ground came up hard against his back, ripping into his flesh despite the mud. Keeping his fingers hooked into the wolfs thick coat, Haarn rammed his forearm into the animal's side again and again, seeking to drive the breath from his attacker.
Close-in fighting had to be quick and vicious, no quarter given or asked. Haarn's mother had taught him that despite his father's protests. According to his father, druids were never to get that close. Haarn's mother had taken part in a number of battles, though she never talked of them, and was of a different opinion. Sometimes the only way to kill an enemy was to look him in the eye and slip a blade home.
Haarn panted, striving to even his breath out and ease the harsh burning in his lungs. The wolfs dander, though muted by the wet coat, filled Haarn's mouth and nose. Fear