Here is part two of a three part short story. In the Kristiansen Expedition, a young woman named Isabella Ward joins a fabled company of hunters in search of dangerous game. What Isabella finds surpasses her wildest hopes—if she can survive it.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
12th Fall, 58th year of the Company Calendar
Somewhere in the Viridian Coast
“I try not to pay any attention to politics, Ms. Ward,” the captain says. “In my line of wor-”
It is upon them without warning, coming out of the fog and grabbing a man named Leon Haschke before anyone can react. It drags him back into the thick brush in the blink of an eye, his scream of fear echoing off the trees. His cry is cut off nearly as soon as it begins, choking into a sick wet sound.
The forest descends into madness.
The company of hunters, almost as one, begin shouting and firing into the fog shrouded trees. None of them worry about hitting their fellow–they all know, at this point, that any bullet that finds Leon would be a mercy.
Isabella squints along her longrifle, but the fog is far too thick to see anything. She alone is not shouting, her expression one of puzzlement rather than the horror of the others at the sudden death and violence. She only saw a flash of the creature in the fog, barely more than a dim perception of motion and menace, but if she did see what she thinks she saw, then–
A tail–thick as a horse, scaled, pointed at the end–whips out through the fog, slamming through the small trees lining the creek as if they are dry twigs, enough force in the blow to stave in a grown man’s rib cage. The company are all crouched too low in the creekbed for the tail to catch any of them, though eight foot tall Lukas nearly loses his head. The monster lets loose a great roar of challenge, loud enough to shake the earth.
Isabella’s eyes go wide–not with fear, but wonder. That tail was definitely white in color. An impossibility, they have cataloged all of the chromatics, which must mean–
The captain’s voice cuts above the chaos. “Follow Glass! Keep low, keep your heads down!” Glass, for his part, is already sprinting down the creek bed away from the beast. The captain follows his own advice, keeping himself low as he runs after the pathfinder, firing his revolver behind him towards the roaring monster.
The company takes off after them, Isabella in their midst. These are all veterans of numerous hunts and they know that to have any chance of survival they must be the ambushers–not the ones ambushed. Their best hope now is to simply get clear, to put distance between them and the creature. The earth trembles as the creature gives chase. For all her sangfroid, part of Isabella’s mind still registers a jolt of shock at the violent tumult of the creature’s passing as it tears through the underbrush and shakes the ground with its gait.
How could such a large creature sneak up on them so silently? That question, more than the suddenness or violence of the attack, sends a jagged spike of fear down her spine.
And then she hears something that truly terrifies her.
The beast stops running, ceases its roar, and inhales. Isabella and Glass are the first to dive down into the creek and press themselves flat, followed by the rest of the company a half second later. Only one of their number, Aaron Michaud, is too slow.
The intake of air through naphtha ducts is a unique sound, half a roar in reverse and half a whistle–or, half the sound of wind moaning through a forest and half the siren of a steam engine venting. The fire washes over the creek bed like the tide rolling up the shore, catching Aaron fully and killing him before he can even feel the heat. Another hunter, Estelle Pichot, has not pressed herself low enough and the flames devour the backside of her clothing and lick at the flesh below.
Isabella completely loses her remaining stoicism as Estelle’s shriek pierces the air. The absolute, blood-curdling pain that cry…
The company begins firing wildly again, some of them cursing as the actions on their rifles become jammed with mud from the creek bed or powder soaked by the stream.
“Grab Estelle, it can’t fire us again for a few moments!” The captain’s voice rises over the din once again. “We’re near the ridge, we’ll make for the crest! Grab the wounded and let’s go, before the beast tries again!”
“Aaron’s gone, sir!” shouts Joss, his voice near panic.
“Leave him! Hannah and Tambo grab Estelle! Joss you take their weapons, Lukas, grab Aaron’s carbine. Move it company!”
The fog is still thick on the forest, though where the creature’s fire has burned there is a clear bubble of air. Estelle’s scream has still not stopped. They run for the ridge, leaving behind the smoldering creek bed, and still Estelle’s scream does not stop. Isabella has hear the lick of naphtha is a worse pain than any natural burn. She has been trained to resist interrogation techniques, and even observed some as well, and she has never heard so much pain in a human’s voice ever before. She shudders.
Somewhere, lost in the fog, the beast is following. Isabella can feel it shaking the earth with its tread. They are too slow.
Glass, at the front of the company, must have come to the same conclusion. He stops, turns and drops to a knee, bringing up his longrifle. The company is nearly to the ridge, but the beast is too close behind. The rest of the contractors follow Glass’s example–they are hunters, they know when they can’t outrun a predator. The crackle of their gunfire echoes off the trees, mixed with their curses as they reload cylinders and cartridges.
The beast breaks upon them as silently as before. Then everything is upheaval, chaos, and death.
Isabella pulls herself behind a thick trunk, while Glass throws himself flat to the earth. Captain Kristiansen roars in pain, rage, and fear, firing his revolver into the beast as it takes him in its jaws and carries him away into the fog. A man named Oscar Makinon dies without making a sound, ripped open navel to throat by a great razor sharp claw. Lucia screams one short scream, and falls over, whimpering as she clutches at a ripped stomach.
What shouting comes from the contractors now is wordless, incoherent. Somehow, enough of them have presence of mind to grab Estelle and Lucia, though later Isabella will not be sure who stayed to help and who–like her–just ran.
The captain was right to order them to the ridge. Isabella’s eyes are wide with the realization that Elias Kristiansen, famed as the greatest hunter alive, was no longer among the living. The surviving members of the company pull themselves up the heights, scrambling for elevation. When they make it above the worst of the fog, they all collapse in exhaustion. Even in the fugue state left by adrenaline and fear, they check their weapons, clean the jams, and listen for sounds of the beast pursuing.
“It’s leaving,” Hannah says, her voice coming as if from far away. She is in shock.
“Gods be good,” Joss sobs. “It took the captain.”
Isabella stands up, her longrifle lost somewhere in the scramble, and looks down at the fog-covered valley with empty hands. She gamely tries to gather her composure. She reminds herself that she has been in danger before, that she petitioned for this posting–came as close to begging as she ever has for anything in life. Some hunts go poorly. She knows the risks, she reminds herself, and after all, she is still alive–and if she is right, about what she saw, about the color of that creature…
If she is right, then this is about to be the most lucrative posting in all of the Republics’ far flung interests. She just needs to get back to Rikeport alive.
Alive, and in sole possession of the secret they have all just witnessed.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three