The creature was padding across the waterfront street, toward the lake, but it paused in the middle. Its broad head swung to the right, crimson eyes directed at Sicarius and Basilard. They’d gotten too close. So much for the tracking plan.
A hound-like nose lifted, and snuffling sounds whispered across the intervening quarter mile as it tested the air. A long, thin tail stuck out straight behind it like a flagpole.
Basilard touched Sicarius’s arm and pointed at the closest trees. Sicarius had already taken note of the surrounding options, choosing a sturdy hemlock as a likely candidate. If that creature, with those thick muscled haunches, sprinted toward them, it’d cross the quarter mile in heartbeats, but he believed he could reach that tree and scale it to twenty feet in the same amount of time. What he didn’t know was whether wood would be strong enough to deter the creature. It didn’t look like something built for climbing, but it might have the power to tear a tree’s roots from the ground.
The sniffs halted, the tail grew even more rigid, and its front paw lifted. Like a pointer targeting grouse in a thicket, the creature aimed at Sicarius.
“Go,” he whispered.
Basilard was already in motion. So was the creature.
Sicarius sprinted for his chosen tree. Basilard had picked the same one. Fortunately, the trunk was wide enough for both of them to scramble up on opposite sides. In the quiet morning surroundings, the beast’s exhales were audible, as was the churning of claws on snow as it covered the ground in twenty-foot bounds.
Halfway up to the first branch, Sicarius paused to hurl his throwing knife. The mundane blade would not hurt the otherworldly creation, but maybe it would pause.
Without waiting to see if the blade struck the construct’s eye, Sicarius returned to climbing, his practiced fingers finding holds in the rough bark. He reached for the first branch, his hand brushing the cold wood, but the creature slammed into the tree. The force knocked his hand to the side-he was lucky it didn’t knock him out of the hemlock entirely.
Wood snapped somewhere above, and green needles rained onto the creature. It merely backed up to charge again.
Sicarius picked out a second tree for a backup perch, though it was too far away to reach without returning to the ground first. Crossing the distance would take an eternity during which they’d be vulnerable to attack.
Basilard lowered his hand, offering help. Sicarius climbed into the lower branches without it, giving Basilard a flat look. He’d merely been considering other options, not pausing because he needed assistance.
Basilard looked… amused. At least until the creature slammed into the tree again. More needles fell to the snow below, and a groan emanated from the trunk. Their perch wouldn’t survive the battering indefinitely. Sicarius decided he’d made a mistake in not taking Basilard’s earlier advice. The admission would gain him little now.
Basilard wrapped an arm around the trunk, freeing his fingers so he could sign. This isn’t the first time I’ve been stuck in an awkward position with you, due to your interest in seeking information for Amaranthe.
“It was your choice to come.”
Sicarius considered his knives and the contents of his pockets, wondering if he had anything that could harm the soul construct, or at least deter it from further molesting their tree. His black dagger might scrape its flesh, but he doubted even a pierced eye would stop it. He considered the cloud-filled eastern horizon and thought about sawing through a few branches and dropping them on its head, if only to buy them time. The last soul construct had possessed a built-in sense to stay hidden, meaning it had disappeared at dawn or when great numbers of people were approaching. He hoped this one had a similar instinct, or they would be in trouble.
If I returned and you didn’t, Amaranthe would have been upset with me.
Gnawing sounds arose from below-the canine construct had changed tactics. Instead of ramming the tree with its shoulder, it was tearing huge chunks from the base. The scent of freshly cut hemlock drifted up.
“She would have forgiven you,” Sicarius said.
At least we have clothing this time.
“Nudity would have been impractical given the season,” Sicarius said before realizing Basilard had been joking. Determined to improve his skills in that area, he added, “Also given our need for pockets.” He pulled out a foldaway serrated knife from one of his own pockets.
Basilard grinned. If only Sicarius could get that response from Sespian.
Since the creature was staying in one place-though gnawing off shards of wood at an alarming rate-Sicarius decided to try the branch idea. He shifted positions so he could get to one over its head.
Basilard waved at the base of the tree-the trunk must be six or eight feet in diameter, but the construct had already gnawed a third of the way through. Where to when it fells this tree?
Still sawing, Sicarius considered the tall brick buildings across from the docks. If they had a suitable distraction, they might be able to reach the first of them, climb up, and hop from rooftop to rooftop. Otherwise, their best bet was to run up another tree.
Before the serrated blade cut all the way through, the weight of the branch took it down. It plummeted, and his aim proved true. The branch smashed into the top of the creature’s head. It staggered back, startled for a moment, but it didn’t let out a yelp or whine or anything to indicate it had been damaged. Instead it glared up at Sicarius, crimson eyes full of threat.
Basilard signed, Is it my imagination or does it seem to be glaring at you specifically?
The massive hound returned to tearing chunks out of the base of the tree.
Sicarius eyed the waterfront street. With the approach of dawn, men and women were about, heading for work. Several blocks away, a trolley pulled around a corner, its bell dinging as people hopped off.
“There is easier prey around if all it wants is a meal,” Sicarius said.
A shudder coursed through the tree. Wood cracked, and creaks and snaps sounded from within the trunk. Sicarius braced himself, preparing to leap free.
Basilard signed, The next closest tree?
“You go that way. I’ll run for the buildings.”
Are you being noble and sacrificing yourself so I can get away, or do you believe it’ll chase me, giving you time to reach the rooftops?
The trunk shuddered again. The soul construct backed up, preparing itself for one last ramming.
“Amaranthe would be displeased if I deliberately sacrificed you,” Sicarius said, on the balls of his feet, ready to spring free.
It’s not escaping me that you didn’t answer my question. You’ve displeased Amaranthe before.
Sicarius didn’t answer. He doubted the soul construct would follow Basilard; for whatever reason, it was intent on him.
The creature raced full speed at the tree and leaped, hurling all of its weight at the trunk. A final snap announced the hemlock’s demise. The tree pitched several feet to the side, and Sicarius was on the verge of leaping, but the trunk halted, not quite ready to plummet all the way down.
“Wait,” Sicarius said, for the construct had paused, an ear cocked toward the lake.