Chapter 49: Let Him Die For Us
"What?"
The grey-haired man’s expression hardened instantly. The tiredness and pain from before, the blood on chin, the shaking arm — all of it vanished, replaced by something cold and sharp, like blade before it broke, like old soldier face.
"No."
"But look at that thing!"
The thin prisoner’s voice cracked, broke in middle, high and ugly, teenager voice though he was grown man. He pointed trembling hand toward Mirebeast, finger shaking so badly it was hard to tell what he was pointing at, just monster, just death that waited.
"We can’t kill it! You saw what it did! You hit it with everything and it didn’t even bleed! It just stood there! It didn’t even flinch! We have nothing left!"
The grey-haired man said nothing. He kept his bent, cracked sword in front of him, faint blue glow in his eyes still flickering weakly, refusing to go out, even as blood dripped from mouth onto snow, even as knees wanted to buckle.
The thin prisoner continued, words spilling out fast now, like he had been holding them in since mines, since Ravenfall, since birth, like if he talked fast enough monster would listen and agree.
"It wants one of us. It has to be. Why else would it just stand there? Monsters don’t wait! Wolves didn’t wait! It wants a trade! A tithe! It wants one!"
Danny stared at him, fists clenched at sides, snow melting in hair, then freezing again, hands bleeding from nails digging, same as before.
"How do you know?" Danny asked, voice low, not loud, but it cut through snow and breathing, clear.
The thin prisoner shook his head, eyes darting back to creature, unable to hold eye contact with boy, unable to hold any eyes except monster’s.
"I don’t know! I just feel it! Look! Use your eyes! Use your stupid eyes!"
He pointed toward creature again, more desperately this time, stepping further from Danny with each word, creating distance like that would save him, like distance was law monster obeyed.
"But look at it."
The Mirebeast wasn’t attacking.
That was strange part. After throwing grey-haired man across road, it should have finished him. Should have kept swinging, should have crushed old man while down, while weak. That is what wolves did, what animals do. But it didn’t.
It stood there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Its massive body still, six limbs dug into stone, steam rising from blackened mark on chest where fire had kissed it, where old man’s last flame had tried. Snow gathering on its back again, covering moss, covering moving things underneath bark, covering blood if there was any.
Its three red eyes, bright like burning coal deep down well, moved slowly from one person to another. From grey-haired man struggling to stand, blood in snow, bent sword, to thin prisoner shaking in fear, piss freezing on leg, smell freezing, to Danny with loud heart.
Then stopped on Danny.
It didn’t move its head much. Just its eyes. Three eyes inside mouth, inside throat, turning like they were on stalks, like they were looking through him.
Click...
Click...
Low clicking sound came from deep in its throat, from behind eyes, from deeper than throat, from chest.
The thin prisoner took step backward, away from Danny, as if distance would save him, as if monster had rules, as if monster would say thank you and leave.
"See? See that? It’s looking at him! It’s always been looking at him! Since wolves! It wants him!"
Danny felt stomach tighten into hard knot, like someone twisted rope inside gut, like rope pulling. Mouth went dry, no spit again, tongue stuck. Heart was loudest drum again, betraying him again, always betraying, beating so loud he thought creature could hear it across road, could hear it down mountain.
The creature wasn’t attacking because it was waiting for something. It wasn’t hunting anymore. It was choosing. Or waiting for them to choose for it, like offering, like priest waiting for lamb.
The thin prisoner looked at grey-haired man, pleading now, hands together like praying to wrong god, to old man who was bleeding.
"It wants him. It wants the boy. Give it to it and it will let us go! That’s how these old things work! A sacrifice! Old stories! One for road!"
"No."
Word flat and final. No Echo, just old man, just human saying no.
"Why not?" The prisoner shouted, fear turning into anger, anger easier to carry than fear, easier to speak. "Why not him? Why should we all die for him? Why three when one will do? That’s math! That’s logic! You taught logic!"
"Because he’s a child," the grey-haired man said, sword up, even bent, even broken, even useless, up between.
The thin prisoner laughed nervously, short, ugly sound that had no humor in it, just snot and tears and spit freezing.
"And what are we supposed to do? Fight that thing? We tried! Your sword is broken! Your fire didn’t work! Your Echo is gone! Look at your eyes! You have nothing!"
The grey-haired man raised sword anyway. Cracked blade trembled in his hand, but stayed up, between them and it, between boy and mouth.
"If that’s what it takes," he said, voice quiet, breathing heavy, blood bubble at lip.
The thin prisoner’s expression changed. Nervousness gone, replaced by disbelief, by pure animal calculation, by man who has decided he is not going to die here, not for boy.
"You’ll die. You’ll both die. You know that, right? You’ll die for a kid you found in the forest yesterday? You don’t even know his name! Danny? Guilty? Whatever! You don’t even know if he’s guilty or not! He could be murderer! He could be—"
He stopped, eyes flicking to Danny, then back to old man, then to arch that was still fifty meters up road, to escape that was snow and maybe death too but maybe less death than here.
"If one has to die, let him die for us."