Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

7.10

Losing the trail would have been fatal. You can track a panther in the jungle, but how would you tell it apart from the others? During the battle with the ashwasthas Ithildin, even with his heightened elven senses, didn't feel anything strange about ashwasthas − no magical aura, no glimmer of human mind. They were beasts, except for their canny, almost intelligent hunting habits. Also they were invulnerable for steel weapons, could steal up to their victims, making them sleepy, and could vanish from sight in a flash. So there was no way to tell under which black furry skin Kintaro was hiding.

"You should have tied a ribbon around his neck," Chevalier Ahayrre joked grimly.

They followed the trail for a whole day, without stopping to rest, taking their food and water as they went. The panther swept through the forest in giant leaps, sometimes jumping randomly left and right, sometimes rolling in the grass. At first Ithildin couldn't understand why, and then it dawned on him. The ashwastha celebrated its freedom, its new body − strong, fast and healthy.

They found the remains of an antelope − the beast had guzzled it down almost whole. In the evening they came to a hill range, overgrown with trees and shrubs, which run from north to south. At the foot of one hill, by a tiny stream that probably turned into a small river during rainy seasons, a cave entrance could be seen. Ithildin's senses indicated the cave was empty, but not deserted.

The carcass of a slaughtered panther lay by the stream. The previous owner of the cave, presumably. It wasn't an ashwastha: it was much smaller, and was definitely killed with only claws and fangs, not a silver weapon.

"He tore it up like a rag," Alva whispered with admiration which was hardly appropriate under the circumstances. "So, what's the plan?"

"Let's go look around the lair. Worst case, inside we'll be able to defend ourselves better. Also, it's going to rain soon, we'll have shelter."

The cave was clean and dry, with grainy walls resembling half-melted cane sugar. It was most likely sandstone, and the cave had probably been hollowed out by water hundreds of years ago, when the stream ran closer to the hill. The floor was covered with dry leaves. There was sharp, disquieting animal scent filling the cave. It must have been the lair of the dead panther and its many ancestors, until the arrogant, strong ashwastha claimed it for itself.

"He is close," Ithildin said. He felt shivers run down his spine and grasped the hilt of his silver kriss. "He'll smell us and won't come inside."

"He? Like hell he won't."

The last rays of the setting sun died out. Twilight crept into the cave, and a giant black beast with it, like a piece of darkness itself. It stood at the entrance and made a low growl, looking at its uninvited guests. Its eyes glowed in the dark like two candles.

"Ohm-my g-god," Alva stammered. "And w-what shall we say to him? Hey, pussy, pussy?"

Ithildin saw the beast incline its big head and sniff the air. Now he understood how naïve his fear of not recognizing the Essanti chief in a panther form had been. That beast was half again as big and heavy as other ashwasthas − roughly the same difference in size and strength that there had been between Kintaro and the tallest Jinnjarati native.

"Kintaro!" he called out. "Do you hear me? Do you understand?"

The beast stretched its back with lazy grace, lay down at the entrance and enthusiastically started gnawing at a bone. Ithildin made a couple steps forward − the panther roared, and he hastily stepped back to the wall.

Obviously, the beast had no intentions of devouring them alive. Nor of letting them go.

"He will f-fatten us up for winter," Alva giggled nervously. He had a habit of making light even of the most critical situations, and that was when his humour took all the fifty shades of black.