Ren had never seen a creature like the Vorin Buck before, but Karsef assured him that’s what they had seen. The little troop of mercenaries marched swiftly across the valley floor. They were still a few days from Ith, and apparently had ended up right in the middle of the territorial beast’s land.
They had first seen the buck trotting along a hilltop at their flank. It has paused with a good vantage to examine them, and then galloped out of sight. According to Karsef, who’d spoken at length with a Raderan about the creature, it would confront them if they didn’t soon leave its domain. It was a burly creature, covered in thin brown and black hair. Wide horns splayed out to each side of its head, sometimes sharpened by their habit of marking trees.
“Do they eat meat?” Woodro asked, as he led the four of them up another hill.
Karsef shook his head—Ren was walking at the back of the group and watching them as they went. “No, it just doesn’t want us picking or walking all over its food. Those shrubs there,” he said, pointing, “If I had to guess.”
“You don’t,” Ren said. “We just need to keep moving and hopefully we’ll make it through this thing’s territory.”
A lone cypress tree stood in the centre of the next vale they entered. The descent was quick, quicker than the ascent, but the tree bore all the signs of the Vorin Buck’s horns. The beast had rent the cypress’s thin bark into shreds at the base of the worn wooden trunk. Tatters of the papery texture hung at about six or seven fee high.
“How about here?” Asar asked.
Ren blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re looking for a place to make a stand, if we have to,” Asar said, surprising Ren with his insight. The swordsman turned back to Ren, his eyes wide and alert. Though he had walked with a limp ever since his captivity in Sheld, the healing of the magicians had helped a little.
Ren shrugged. “If it has to do,” he said. “I think a ridge would work better, like the one we walked along two days ago.”
Asar nodded. A rocky slope where a stream of water or time had steepened a hill’s crest would make an excellent trap for a horned beast. A tree would provide an obstacle, but a trap. They kept walking.
The bottom of the valley slanted downward, divided from the next hill by a small brook. The shape of the land bent with it, obstructing the base of a third hill, straight ahead of them. As they descended this glen, Ren spotted movement and froze. Horns wavered and rose over the curve of the land, followed by a striped black mane. The buck advanced up the hill, its head lowering toward them every few paces.
“Sir?” Karsef asked, warily. “It’s not going to let us outrun it now.”
Ren drew his sword. Three other rasps echoed the air as steel was freed from leather. “The tree,” he said. They backed up the hill, going slowly. The enormous beast followed them, more briskly than Ren had anticipated. When it started to stamp its feet, only fifteen feet from them, Ren barked, “Get back now!”
He spun and dashed the last few paces as the big beast charged. When he reached the tree, he stepped behind it and rounded to face whatever surge came into range of his blade. But the big buck had picked out Karsef and Asar. The latter, moving with his limp, made for a clear target.
“Asar!” Ren called. Karsef stepped out from his direction and shoved Asar out of the way. Then the buck slammed its head against the mercenary. Karsef absorbed the approaching blunt horn with his forearm, trying to shove his body out of the way. He stumbled over Asar as he was sent on an adjacent angle to the charging beast, and then landed on his side. He screamed as he tumbled, and Asar clawed through the dirt to his side.
Meanwhile, Woodro shouted a battle cry and taunted the slowing charge of the beast with the point of his sword blade. The buck huffed loudly, stamping its feet and dancing its fur. It charged at Woodro only to slam one rounded horn off the tree with an enormous clack. The entire cypress shook, scattering ashen-dried leaves into the air.
Woodro and Ren hacked at the stunned beast with their blades, but it barely slowed down. Blood splattered the tree as the beast spun away and stampeded a few paces away. It stood, panting, a dozen feet away, staring at them aggressively.
Karsef’s panting and moaning kept up, supressing a string of curses. Asar dragged the hurt man back to the tree, placing his back against it. “His arm,” Asar called to Ren. “He’s broken it.” Karsef cradled his forearm in front of him, starting to resist the pain.
“Here it comes again,” Woodro called. The buck brushed by the tree narrowly, with Ren and Woodro scampering out of the way. It charged away, across the grass, hooves kicking up clumps of grass and dirt. Ren watched it turn, panting loudly and glaring at them. Fur glistened with blood, but the Vorin Buck wasn’t done yet. It surged across the grass again, crossing the span between them in a manner of seconds.
“Watch it,” Ren said, and Asar dragged Karsef out of the way as the buck once again nearly hit the tree with its charge. By now, Renado and Woodro stood on the same side as their wounded man—all four of them hiding from the charges and waiting for the right opportunity.
The next charge went right for the tree. The buck slammed into it, shaking branches loose and rending up the mud. The cypress shook, and didn’t stop. The clever beast had tricked them into a false sense of his intent—he didn’t want to keep charging at them and missing all day long. He dug in his hooves and pushed against the old tree. The cypress started to lean, roots dragging through the dirt under their feet. They would lose their cover.
“Quick,” Ren shouted. “Quick!” He dashed forward before the tree lost all its grip in the earth. A jab of the sword to the back of the beast’s neck scattered red across his feet. He was face to face with the big creature, its eyes squinting as it strived to topple the tree. The eye opened as the hack in its neck deepened, and it focused on Ren with its fury. Woodro and Asar slashed at it, but the creature withdrew swiftly. This time, it moved dizzily, trailing blood.
It faced them again, heaving for breath. A wounded beast was a dangerous one.
“Away!” Ren shouted, deepening his voice. “Get away!” He tapped the still standing tree with his fist and waved his bloody sword at the beast.
In reply, the Vorin Buck stamped the grass once more and then started to back away. After a minute, it turned and picked up its pace. The beast might recover from its wounds, but it might find its hollow and curl up to expire. Ren waited until he was certain it wouldn’t turn back to charge them once more, before dashing to Karsef’s side.
“Give me something to bite down on,” Karsef replied. He showed them where the bone had broken, though touching the skin gave him a grimace. The skin hadn’t been broken, so it wasn’t the worst break Ren had seen. Given a bit of fortune, Karsef would make a full recovery.
Woodro had found a suitable branch and broken it down into a short, straight chunk. He cleaned it off on the hem of his shirt before passing it to their wounded warrior. Sliding his teeth around it, Karsef gave Ren a nod.
“Get a splint ready,” Ren said, and with the help of Asar’s sturdy grip, shoved the bone back into place. Karsef squirmed, chomping down on the stick and shoving his heels around. He scarred the grass, churning up dirt amidst the ruins of the half-toppled cedar, but then slowly started to resist the pain. Ren patted his friend and muttered, “Let’s take a rest for the day… You could use a rest. Damn, we all could.”