The Proving of Champions, Chapter 11

The blur of Fleta stumbled upon the Thorgarick camp as they fled the clearing. Soldiers scrambled over roots and barreled through broad leaves of ivy hanging over low branches. Leanna leaped over a broad, deep red flower that smelled of rotting meat. Fleta skidded, and she had to grab an arum leaf as big as herself to avoid colliding with Esmond. The bolting Thorgaricks froze and stared at the sudden visage of Fleta. Ogden, unable to stop, slid into Esmond and crashed into a tangle in front of Fleta. Then, the stamping of the tarasque shook the earth, and the Thorgarick soldiers started running. Hereward pounded forward, half pulling a panting and gasping Terrell in tow. Fleta drew next to Hereward in an effortless jog.

"Is everyone here? Any wounded left behind?" asked Fleta.

"All accounted for, 'cept the Gate man distracting the Tarasque," Hereward huffed.

"Alexei? Is he alive?"

"Tarasque was stomping him, but he kept getting up."

"How much of that can he take?" Fleta asked.

"Who knows? Maybe he can't die." Hereward went quiet for a pace, gulping in air as he held a conversation and helped pull Terrell along. "Leave 'im to it, and we'll see."

"I can help you back to the Valcot camp, but we have to save Alexei first."

"We'll be lucky to save ourselves," Hereward said. "Let the Jungle monster and the damned soul sort it out, and we'll save Thorgarick's people."

"Stop!" Fleta shouted and shook her head in frustration. "For just one minute!"

Hereward looked at Terrel, who nodded breathlessly. The camp stumbled to a halt.

"According to Bertram—Valcot champion—such a large creature can't stay active for long, especially when a lot of its food is so small. We don't have to beat it; we just have to stay alive and tire it out, and it will disappear." 

"Easy enough for you," Ogden butted in. "But the rest of us can't outrun that beast."

"Why do you propose?" Terrell asked after a deep inhale.

"Well, if your voice can call it, and it likes chasing me, we should be able to distract it between the two of us."

"But I can hardly run from it if the tarasque decides to chase me," Terrell said. Ogden nodded his head, taking the High Skald's reiteration of his point as approval.

"We'll separate to confuse the beast, but I'll make sure I'm close enough that I can run over and carry you if it gives chase."

Ogden snorted. "The champion carrying the Skald like a mule?"

Terrell gave Ogden a sharp glance. "My dignity is not above saving lives. Can you outrun the tarrasque while carrying me?"

"I think so," said Fleta. "Paragons, I wish Bertram were here. He'd do the maths in his head of how far apart to stand and whether I'd run fast enough."

"Well, he's not here," Terrell said. "Can it be done?"

"Be sure if you are going to risk the High Skald's life for a stranger's," Hereward rumbled. When he stretched and straightened, he loomed over Fleta like a bear on hind legs. "You're taking on a lot of responsibility for a young girl who skimped on sword practice."

"I won't be relying on a sword. I have run in the mountains of Lindtre for years, and I have escaped the Tarasque on foot and in flood." Fleta set her face in determination. "Yes, I can carry Terrell and outrun the Tarasque if needed. But if Bertram is right about the creature chasing me for some reason, then the High Skald should be able to flee as it chases me."

Terrell nodded assent again. "Then, champion, let us return with haste."

Fleta handed her pack to the scout Leanna, and Hereward helped Terrell onto Fleta's back. Fleta leaned forward, carefully feeling the weight and balance of the Skald on her shoulders. The high skald, though awkwardly long of limb, was an austere man who ate frugally and weighed surprisingly little. Fleta jogged a few experimental steps over a root and around a deep green shrub, feeling the extra force of her burden channel through her hips, knees, and ankles. Fleta squatted, flexed her knees slowly, and then rolled each ankle deliberately.  Then she shot like an arrow through the underbrush.