Chapter 12: Bind

Emmeline felt the terrible creature staring at her, its seething contempt coiling and slithering across her soul. Death itself had surely come for her. Her heart kicked in her chest like desperate prey.

The beast's thick chiseled arm rose from its side, its skin like rippling stone armor, a three-fingered hand clenching into a fist the size of a man's head.

And then something that began like distant rolling thunder gathered and swelled and surrounded, at once carnivorous growl and chilling whisper and bone-rattling tremor:

"You ... persist..."

Emmeline looked into the beast's eyes; it seemed ... perplexed.

It had sent a swarm of monsters to clear its path. They'd killed her uncle, her grandfather, and her father. They'd taken the axe, and they'd nearly killed her.
She shouldn't have survived. Shouldn't have succeeded. Shouldn't be here.

And yet she was here. And she was armed.

But the beast's confusion faded. Its voice again boiled up, walls shuddering, air shimmering, flesh quivering...

"You ... will not ... escape me ... again..."

The beast's other arm rose, both of its massive clawed hands opened...

... but Emmeline Winter did not run.

If such monsters could exist, if her father and grandfather before her had fought them, if she had been sent here, if so much was at stake, if her very presence gave the beast pause ... then surely there was something to this, more than she could see.
She had to believe.
She would persist.

Emmeline's grip tightened around the neck of the axe, so tight her fingers burned. She stepped boldly forward.

Her voice was clear and unwavering.

"By Winter's hand, the blade is brought. It is our blood that binds."

The beast shifted backwards -- ever so slightly, but unmistakably.

Emmeline's grip shifted, and she raised the axe in front of her.

But then the beast seemed to ... smile. "You ... do not know ... what that means..."

With frightening speed, the beast lunged forward, reaching across what had seemed like a safe distance just an instant before, its great clawed hand swatting right in front of Em, ripping the axe out of her hands, sending it flying out of reach.

Em felt something shove her hard to the floor; the light overhead dimmed for a moment, and the air seemed to split and tumble around her.

Alex rolled as soon as his shoulder hit the floor, but it still hurt like hell; he wound up on his back, an arm's length from Em ... and the beast loomed directly over him. The first swipe had sent the axe flying ... somewhere. The second would have taken their heads off.

Em was already starting to recover from Alex's desperate tackle, but the beast was hardly slow. Alex saw the thing's leg, and kicked at it, as hard as he could.

The beast straightened up; its angry roar made Alex's vision blur. Alex kicked again, but hit nothing. Then he saw the beast's weight shift, and its leg swung ... Alex tried to roll out of the way, but only rolled into the path of the beast's foot. It hit him like a charging boar. Alex saw only a blur of lights as he went skidding across the smooth granite floor, until he slammed into the wall.

Em found herself on her stomach; she managed to get to her hands and knees. The floor darkened with the beast's looming presence, and the panicked girl scrambled to escape, stockings slipping and skin gripping, legs pistoning, hands slapping and squeaking against the cold hard stone. At any moment she expected to feel the thing on top of her, but somehow she managed to keep ahead...

... until she found herself trapped in a corner.

Emmeline flipped over, pushing herself against the wall, trying to get her feet beneath her; maybe she could run, somehow duck past the beast...

... but hope gave way to sheer terror as she looked up and saw the hulk towering over her, one massive stony fist raised nearly to the ceiling, hovering as the monster's fiery black orbs stared down at her, its sharp-edged mouth cocking into an evil snarl, pausing to revel in her helplessness before it delivered the killing blow.

Suddenly the beast's body lurched forward; its hand smashed awkwardly into the wall above Em. It threw its head back and let loose an agonized roar.

The beast pushed itself off the wall and staggered back, first one step, and then a second, twisting its torso around as it seemed to reach for something behind it...

... and as it turned, Emmeline saw the axe lodged between its shoulders, and Alex, stooped over and staggering, halfway across the lobby.

Alex fell to one knee, and then to one hand; the world wouldn't stop shifting, and his head felt like it was in a lopsided lead helmet. But he looked up and saw that his aim had been true. The beast reared back and turned, its arm twisted around, reaching for the axe.

He saw Em stand, and push herself off the wall ... if she could just get past the beast while it was distracted...

Em forced herself to her feet. The beast kept twisting and reaching, over the shoulder, then underhanded, clawed fingers grasping for the axe handle. It was almost completely turned around now; Em had to make a break for it.

She pushed herself off the wall, ducking beneath the beast's boulder-like arm. She could see the lobby doors now; she was going to make it...

... but something pulled taut between her shoulder blades, yanking her up off her feet, swinging her around...

Alex felt his cheek hit the cold floor, but it was the way the beast threw Em back into the corner like a rag doll that hurt him the most. She slid limply into a helpless puddle.

The beast reared back, arching grotesquely, arm muscles bulging, until long thick fingers finally got a grip on the axe handle. The thing seemed to take a deep breath, then its arm flexed; and Alex saw the axe, looking like a toy tomahawk, pulled loose and held between two of the beast's fingers. The beast roared again in earth-shaking fury, and then turned toward its fallen prey.

Alex heard the axe head hit the floor, ringing like a bell.

He tried to get up, but he just toppled over again. The world wouldn't stop spinning ... He dragged himself forward, reaching toward Emmeline, knowing that she was about to die, knowing that he was failing her...

Bang! The sound was not so earth-shaking as the beast's roar, but loud and sharp.
The beast twitched. There was something sticking out of its left shoulder, like ... a needle and thread, but much bigger. The thread drew taut...

The beast straightened up and began to turn...

Then its shoulder yanked violently backwards. It twisted around, staggering sideways, blinking in surprise.

Alex looked where it looked, toward the lobby entrance. There stood a bear of a man, thick white beard framed in the oversized collar of a maroon leather coat, matching beret cocked low over one eye, holding a coil of slender cord in one hand and brandishing a very large-barreled gun with the other.

Old Man Winter.

"About time somebody put you on a leash," he snarled.

The coiled end of the spear's line fell; Alex's eye followed it to the floor. The old man's heavy boot shifted, trapping the cord beneath it.

Something small hit the floor near the other boot. Bright red. Wet. Alex looked up. The old man's coat had no left sleeve; his bare forearm, covered in scars, glistened with fresh blood. Alex took a closer look at Emmeline's grandfather. Black cargo pants were heavily abraded on the side of the knee; the leather coat's color was scraped away at the hip. The old man's chest heaved with big, fast breaths, the deeply-creased olive-gray skin of his cheeks vibrating like old bellows; there was a tremor in the hand that wiped grimy sweat from his hard-set brow, replacing it with a thin streak of blood. Alex saw the glass double doors of the entrance beyond, each smeared with a bloody handprint.

Nicholas Winter was in rough shape.

But as he stared down the menacing creature twice his size, his eyes showed no fear, only fierceness.

"Your ambush at the airstrip ... going after my granddaughter ... almost finished us. But your elves came up a little short. And now," he sneered, his boot tapping on the spear's line, "so will you."

The beast's arm reached across its chest and over its shoulder, its whetstone-like fingers curling around the fragile-looking spear. The trailing line quivered as the beast's grip tightened on the thin steel rod. The beast's arm jerked; the spear's shaft bowed briefly but did not break.

The beast's head snapped around, its big black orbs bulging wide for a moment before narrowing to determined slits. A polyphonic grunt made the nearby axe head jingle against the granite floor. The beast tightened its grip, sandy skin shifting over coiling chiseled muscles.

Its stone fist lurched hard forward, bending the tail of the spear up over the shoulder; Alex was sure it would snap like a twig under such force, but it did not. The beast strained to pull it further, but its grip was slipping; the sound of steel scraping stone echoed across the room as the slender rod defied the great beast. Finally the spear rang free and hummed straight like a tuning fork, its song quickly overwhelmed by the deafening blast of the beast's agony and rage.