graceful limbs. The Wilder's shape left it without a head, but Dora could see the pines trembling in reflexive fear as it tested the air.
Nothing for it but to fight, and hope the Sherim at her back was riled enough to offer some serious Wild Power. Ripped as it must have been from symbiosis with the rest of its pack, and freshly arrived in the First Realm, the Lentu shouldn't be too dangerous. It wasn't even strictly a predator; its consciousness was too simple.
None of that stopped the rush of adrenaline that shook through Dora with the chill of the breeze. She began to walk towards the Lentu, watching its uneven, liquid prowl and trying not to let it mesmerise her. It missed a step as it identified her - she could almost see the thought food run through it - and stumbled, rolling right over and through itself before regaining its footing.
Dora stepped past Wolpan, one fist clenched, her other hand held in a flat blade. She wouldn't know until she attacked whether there was Wild Power available to make her strikes count, but letting the Lentu come to her was too risky a strategy. Theoretically, Dora knew, she should make some attempt to drive it back through the Sherim rather than kill it, but that would mean shepherding it past the two unconscious Gifted. The briefest of touches with the Lentu would be enough to kill either of them. She bowed her head and broke into a leggy lope downhill. The Lentu reorganised itself, twitched, and charged.
Even new to the First Realm, its grace translated into ferociously fast motion. Dora shouted an incoherent string of syllables and let the glowing web of her anger race ahead of her. The Lentu flowed around the shape, swallowing it, and came on. Aiming just to one side of the Wilder, she shouted again, putting in more venom this time.
The Lentu swung sideways, two of its left legs flailing at the air, and again the shout vanished. Dora adjusted her charge ever so slightly as the Lentu reeled, flailed legs and attacked the slope again. It didn't try to turn to meet her, instead heading for the two unconscious Gifted further up the hill. Dora faced its flank, close enough now to see the ripple of muscles under the sleek, beautiful hide.
It was almost a shame to kill the creature. Unfair. Dora added that injustice to her anger and slashed out with her arm, praying she wasn't wrong about the Sherim. Wild Power answered. Air flashed into a blade, the spark of reflected sunlight drawing the Lentu's attention. Legs windmilled, punching distortions into the fabric of the world, and the Wilder began to turn. Dora's blade sliced into its pelt with a sound like fabric ripping.
Blood, or some Second-Realm analogue of it, sprayed bruise-purple across the grass. Still charging, Dora felt her balance shift as the Lentu's pain rippled through the world. It rolled again, and somehow managed to get its limbs organised to point it in Dora's direction. Reassured, feeling the adrenaline burning with Wild Power inside her, she lashed out head-on.
The wind parted before her as her punch drilled into the Lentu, driving it backward. It clawed furrows in the grass, its rage manifesting a dual-voiced howl, one part scream and one part guttural roar. Dora checked her run only a handful of yards from the creature. With a heave that rippled the length of its body and sent clods of earth flying up behind it, it pounced.
Dora threw herself sideways, whirling the world around to swing the Lentu away. Even the faintest brush of physical contact while it was on the attack could be fatal. She rolled sideways on landing, put her back to the ground and vaulted upright, reflexively wrenching the grass up to steady and catch her.
With a hawk's cry, the Lentu flickered around to bring its charge at her again. The ground beneath her feet settled into order too slowly, and she stumbled half a step backward. Animal hate and pain washed over her as the Lentu closed, its feelings a bow wave through the First Realm. Dora cried out herself, but the blue-silver arc of the sound failed to turn the predator.
She threw up an arm loaded with fear, trailing hardened air as Wild Power resonated with the emotion. Desperate, she let herself fall after the arm, knowing it could not be enough. Something crunched as the Lentu hit her crude shield, and she winced, waiting for the creature's ice-cold touch. Sharp pain answered instead, slicing through her dress and into her shoulder, snicking her ponytail short.
The ground walloped her, dazed her. Instinctively, she shoved it away, then gasped as she found herself flying in a high tumble, the planet swinging past above her. The Lentu roared, rearing up, but she was well out of its reach. She lashed out a foot as it spun past, throwing out a scythe of Wild Power that burned a long, dark line in the grass before smashing the Wilder to the floor.
Again, she found the planet at her back. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but anger gave her the strength to force a breath past the crushing weight on her chest. She threw herself back to her feet. Up-slope, now between her and the other Gifted, the Lentu struggled to rise. Dora had seen trapped rats with broken legs make similar hopeless motions. She began to walk towards the Wilder.
She could almost see the bar of the trap pinning it to the floor, a dip in the once-straight line of its spine. The place where her kick had struck, pulverising whatever passed for the Lentu's skeleton. Holding to that visualisation kept the creature pinned. How could it move without the right bone structure? The force of Dora's First-Realm logic flattened the Lentu's confused mind into obedience.
Still, it would take a strong blow yet to kill the thing and render it safe to touch. Dora turned her foot on her next step, pirouetting to add more of her body's momentum to the blow, filling herself with as much Wild Power as she could handle. Her spin drove a lance of pain through the corner of her eye and into the centre of her brain, but a rod of hardened air swept out from her outstretched fingers.
It caught the Lentu near what she'd been thinking of as its head. The Wilder flew into the air, already a ragged mess, and smashed into the trees fifty feet or more away across the hillside. With a heavy crash, a tree snapped, and the Lentu's corpse bounced and rolled to the floor. Dora stared, mouth hanging open. Her arm tingled.
She'd expected to smash the creature, true, but not send it flying. Had any Gifted ever struck such a powerful blow? What had she done to the Sherim? She glanced back at the distorted tree, but while there was a crack between the ashtmer and ghiten, leaking the glowing-amber influence of the Second Realm, it was no more than normal.
Thought caught up with itself, stroking a finger of ice down Dora's spine. She'd been able to recognise the ashtmer and ghiten while in the Second Realm, and that was just about credible; she was good at Second-Realm logic, when she saw it in context. To be able to see them from this side?
She looked away, hurried over to check on Wolpan. Better not to think of where her sudden burst of power had come from.
***
About the author
R. J. Davnall has been telling stories all his life, and thus probably shouldn’t be trusted to write his own bio. He holds a PhD in philosophy and teaches at Liverpool University, while living what his mother insists on calling a 'Bohemian lifestyle'. When not writing, he can usually be found playing piano, guitar or World of Warcraft.
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Blog: https://itsthefuture.blogspot.com/
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