The Last Satyr: The Company is Formed Part 1

Chasing them from behind with tremendous speed was a great big black hunting cat. Bigger than a tiger or a lion, black as night; it was all teeth and claws. Its eyes were like two masked beacons searching them out. And it was gaining. Leradien was fast, but it was faster and it was just as deadly silent as she… and murderously intent upon them.

And it was no wonder it was gaining. It had six legs! And they all seemed to be in constant spring and motion. Yet that’s not all it was. The boy would have been happy if that’s all it was. But it was worse than this. It was some kind of monster cat. Above the huge powerful forelegs, two sinuous tentacles extended, each nightmarish appendage ending in open maws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth. The ghastly things moved with a predatory desire, their tips hovering menacingly in the air, hungry for the scent of prey. They seemed to possess a malevolent life of their own, reaching out eagerly as if guided by a sinister intelligence. Every undulating motion promised a nightmarish death, adding yet another layer of dread to the already terrifying chase.

“Faster, Leradien! Faster! That thing’s catching up!”

“Well, I would be a lot bigger and faster if somebody would let me drink fairy’s blood!” came her reply.

Should they turn and fight the thing?

Yet it didn't seem afraid of Leradien which was all the more reason to fear it, especially with Leradien running. That scared the boy even more to know she was scared. For her to be frightened of anything meant it had to be something awful. That thought scared him even more.

Leradien’s movements were as swift and graceful as a shadow flitting across moonlit water, her scrambling form navigating the terrain with ease. Yet even her speed now seemed useless against that thing. It would catch them!

Leradien’s one free hand pointed backwards now, palm up, and a flash of her own fairy light left her hand for the great cat. The light she cast was so bright it momentarily blinded the cat, which dodged it by veering off sharply to the side to do so, yet still pursued.

It seemed her light was useless against it, but Leradien veered instantly off in the opposite direction the cat veered and then suddenly jumped, high and fast. The boy thought she was jumping a ravine, or a creek, or a log, because she completely left the ground. The boy watched in astonishment as, defying gravity, her lithe form became one with a towering tree, ascending the great trunk like an arrow released from a taut bowstring. She went straight up without making a sound, not even slowing down a step.

The boy had forgotten that spiders can climb walls and the huge tree was no challenge to her. Of course, it would be no challenge to the cat's claws either. Although it was certainly a challenge for the boy to hold on to Leradien now, what with her going straight up with him on her spider half and liable to fall off.

As for the cat, with its having momentarily veered away to avoid the light, it had not seen them scurry up the tree. As it shook its head to clear its vision, it then tried to see which way they’d gone. To prevent its seeing them, Leradien suddenly stopped, stock, dead still, halfway up the tree. She then looked down, still holding Ronthiel in one hand and, with her other, put her finger to her lips to indicate the boy to be silent and not move.

That was easier said than done. The boy was hanging from the drider woman’s waist by just his arms. His legs were swinging free, unable to get any footing on her smoothly polished, and rounded spider shell. By his arms and hands alone, he had to hold himself to her to keep from falling off and down from the tree.

He looked downwards, his wide eyes reflecting the moon’s glow. If he fell, it would be right next to the huge cat that was now moving in circles beneath them, where it occasionally stopped, sniffed the air, and listened for them.

The boy’s arms were starting to get tired from hanging. The cat seemed to not see them though as it never looked up, but how much longer would it hang around?

The cat seemed to have great patience. It continued its search for them–stopping, listening, sniffing, and moving again in a circle around them. The moon, a silent witness to their ordeal, watched from above.

The boy’s arms ached. They burned. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Pretty soon, he was going to have to let go. If the fall didn’t kill him, the cat would.

And the cat wasn’t leaving. It knew they were near.

The boy’s arms blazed like fire now from holding on. His fingers were loosening their grip. Death by falling was but moments away. The great cat would not leave before he fell.

He let go.

And he felt himself fall…

Only the sensation abruptly ended as Leradien instantly snapped him back up with her free hand. She had done it without even looking, her eyes still on the cat.

He wondered how long she could hold him like that, with only one arm. But she didn’t seem to be very worried about it. In fact, she’d been holding Ronthiel for quite a while with the other, so he guessed he was safe from being dropped for the moment–maybe.

Her gaze remained on the cat.

The cat was still not leaving, but it was moving in a steadily bigger circle to find their scent and, by doing so, gradually moving off. The boy looked over at Ronthiel, whose limp form still dangled from Leradien’s other arm. It was like he weighed nothing to her at all and yet he realized she had been holding him in that one arm ever since they’d left the cemetery. He remembered driders are supposed to be strong enough to carry cattle back to their caves and wondered now if those stories weren't actually true.

Finally, as the displaced beast gradually moved off, Leradien climbed down, eased her grip, and the boy was lowered back onto solid ground. The sensation of safety, though fleeting, brought a sigh of relief. Leradien’s gaze met his, and the unspoken understanding between them remained unspoken. They had narrowly escaped a perilous encounter, and the gravity of their situation hung heavy in the air.

The cat had finally left, but Leradien waited awhile before she moved off in silence, not speaking. She quickly headed for Gold Creek, towards her cave, putting the boy on her back again. Ronthiel was still limp as a fish in her other hand. The boy rode on Leradien’s back, speechless with fear. He glanced back over his shoulder from time to time, apprehensively, as he feared the cat might still be following them. Every stump that showed up in their path seemed like that cat and the enemy, and made him catch his breath. As they sped by one of the outlying human villages, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs there seemed to give wings to their feet.

At last, the boy couldn’t stand it anymore and had to ask.

“Leradien, what was that thing back there?”

“A displacer beast,” she replied. “It’s a drow pet.”

That thing was a pet?

“Could it have hurt you?”

“Me? I don’t think so. Only if I let it,” said Leradien, “but hurt you? Yes.”

“Do you think we’ve lost it?”

“Yes. I doubt it’s ever seen a drider before or it would think twice about chasing me,” she said. “And so I didn’t think it would know I can climb trees, and so I did. But, you noticed the displacer beast didn’t leave? It knew we were there nearby and so still looked for us. It would have found us too except we were in the tree when it was looking for us on the ground.”

That seemed like pretty smart thinking for a girl.

After narrowly escaping the relentless pursuit of the displacer beast, Leradien’s swift movements gradually slowed, the adrenaline-fueled tension dissipating with each step. With all her running and carrying, Leradien wasn’t willing to go any farther, finally exhausted from carrying Ronthiel and the boy. She stopped and bade him get off. He did but didn’t feel too safe about it. That cat could still be following them.

“I ain’t ever seen such a thing!” he told her, still in fear.

Leradien’s hard panting was her only reply with their gazes fixed on one another. Yet the steady, intent look on her face told him something else. The boy knew she was thinking about capturing him; it was in her eyes plain as day.