Chương 85: Ch 46b – Knot

Wyndeer's foul mood curbed any ideas she had of discussing Erro or even asking for permission to take a wider walk with Magse. Not that a walk was an option anymore. Wyndeer immediately ordered Magse to accompany him to a particularly bad section of the fence. And so, for the second time that day, Cara finds herself sitting in the hall completing shard training under Crathsun's guidance.

Draig has again chosen to sit back from the table at an angle that makes it hard for her to see him without obviously twisting to look. It is the same position as the one he had taken in her first shard training session. When she'd talked to Wyndeer and Draig about the shards as she ate, Draig had been aloof, returning to his casual expression of indifference, leaving Wyndeer to ask most of the questions.

She couldn't detect a return to hostilities between the two men, so she has reluctantly concluded that Draig has either decided to cool their growing friendship or taken umbrage at something she has said or done. She has even begun to question her recollection of their time in the shed. If she had mistakenly interpreted his sympathy and concern, what had he been thinking instead?

"This time Cara, we're using the same type of object in three different ways," Crathsun announces, returning to the table to place down two more floats. Clearing the table of their previous equipment, he picks up the tile, drops it into the cup and places the cup on the floor by his chair. He smiles enthusiastically at her. Not wanting to insult him by dampening his efforts to encourage her she smiles back. The bandage at the base of her neck is beginning to feel itchy, she resists the urge to scratch at it.

At least, that's what she tells herself is the cause of her discomfort. It could be Draig's stare burning into her back combining with the memory of him caressing the nape of her neck. She resolves to find an excuse to turn around to see if he is thinking about it too. Crathsun taps the table, his new signal to commence use of the shard. Wyndeer, despite her refusal to drop the shard yesterday, has decided to relax the rule requiring her to return the shard after each use.

Both Cara and Crathsun are still getting used to the new arrangement. By unspoken mutual agreement they have fallen into the practice of her returning it to neutral ground, in this case the table. She picks up and activates the shard. The first float spins fast in place on the table. The second float bounces across the floor of the hall. The third she gives the notion of arcing up across the vaulted ceiling to land in a dead stop on top of a barrel.

"Good. Three unique, controlled movements." Crathsun says as she releases the shard.

"Four," she corrects.

"Four?" She turns quickly, just catching Draig diverting his eyes from her back up to Crathsun's face, his wistful look swiftly melting into indifference. Cara's smile deepens with her double satisfaction.

"Four," she says, pointing up at the ropes. High above the gym mats the two ropes are tied securely in a neat knot. Crathsun gazes up in surprise, "How did you do that?" She shrugs, "I gave them the notion to tie themselves together." Draig shoots her a disapproving frown, his pouting bottom lip gives him a surly look.

"How did you do it without looking at them?" he asks, rephrasing the question Crathsun had intended. She shrugs again, childishly enjoying his annoyance after enduring his indifference all day.

"Possibly because I know they are there, consciously or subconsciously. I can't be confined to only things I can see. Otherwise, how do you explain being able to pick up all those little black balls or all that sand? I didn't know where every grain or ball was."

"Cara," Draig leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. His indigo eyes darken as he admonished her.

"If you have a new theory or idea to try, you should explain it first. Blindsiding us with new developments doesn't help us help you."

"I only just thought of it." she says defensively, moving her elbow to the back of the chair to allow her to sit up straighter.

"I don't care when you thought about it," he says coldly.

"Crathsun and I are sitting right here, and it didn't occur to you to share the idea before you tried it?"

"It's a bit hard to talk to you when you choose to sit behind me," she shoots back.

"Pathetic excuse," he hisses, his eyes narrow, his frown is so deep his eyebrows almost meet. Rising from his chair, he turns his back on her. She watches as his hand massages the back of his neck as he walks over to stand by Crathsun who is studying the knot in the ropes. Her anger at his harsh response outweighs the pang of rejection that falls over her. Crossing her arms, she turns and slouches back in her chair, kicking her feet out irritably in front of her. On the table the shard gleams.

She swears under her breath, jerking her head to look over to where the hangar doors have been slid all the way back to air out the overly used gym area. Dust motes dance in the golden beams of sunlight that cascade into the hall. She frowns and turns back to the shard. It isn't gleaming under the lights; it is faintly glowing. She unfolds her arms, sweat beginning to prick in her palms. It is glowing but she isn't touching it, isn't holding her breath. Danger.

She shifts back in her chair, looking around to Draig and Crathsun. Crathsun is pointing up at the rope and saying something to Draig. They aren't a danger to her. Danger. The notion pushes into her head. Again, she studies the shard. The faint glow invites her to pick it up. Her hand is already moving towards it, despite her growing anxiety. The danger can't be the shard itself, she thinks uneasily. Even though her mind hesitates her hand curls around the shard. It buzzes at her touch.

A shout tears out of her, ripping up the sides of her throat, forced by a powerful squeeze of her diaphragm. Adrenaline ignites every cell in her body, supercharging his muscles to fight for his life. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Cara jolts back, releasing the shard and pressing a hand to her mouth. Her closed mouth. A gasp waits at the top of her undisturbed throat. She looks back to the men. Both still have their backs to her. Both have ignored her shout.

A shout she had felt, she realises, but not heard. A painful, guttural shout that her throat and diaphragm now don't recall. Adrenaline creeps up her spine, encouraging her to stand up. She looks down at her hands as she stands, they had felt prepped to fight but now shake mildly. Danger. The shard glows faintly on the table. She picks it up again. The shard's buzz is interrupted by the red-hot pain slicing across her arm. She clutches desperately at her upper arm, feeling nothing but the fabric of her jumper.

His heart thumps vigorously in her chest, pounding the blood into his thigh as his kick explodes with all the strength he can spare. Yelping Cara flings the shard back onto the table. It clatters loudly, rolling and coming to a stop half hanging off the edge. Both men turn quickly.

"What?" Draig demands, looking across Cara and the room to determine her concern.

"S-something's wrong," she exclaims, her hand still rubs at her injured yet unharmed arm. A wound she felt being inflicted, but not on her body. On his.

"I'm- He's in danger."

"Who? What danger?" Crathsun demands as Draig strides towards her.

"I don't know," she says shakily, looking not at them but at the shard that still glows softly on the table. Danger. She sees her hand stretching out in front of her and realises it is reaching for the shard. Draig's hand folds carefully over her forearm, halting her movement.

"What danger?" he asks in a deep voice, stepping in front of her so that his face fills her vision." I don't-" she begins, her chin is shaking so violently her words wobble as they pass her lips. Adrenaline floods her body as she recalled the sensation of needing to fight. Draig gently increases his grip on her arm, reminding her he is there.

"He's fighting," she says, "he's scared."

"Who?" Crathsun asks, drawing up at her side. He tilted his head suddenly, his eyes drifting up as his attention shifts. She feels Draig stiffen, his grip on her forearm becomes insistent and unescapable. He too has stilled to concentrate on something unidentifiable to her.

"Erro!" Crathsun roars, already sprinting to the hangar doors as she registers his about turn.

"Erro needs help," Draig says urgently. He pushes her down firmly into her chair.

"Stay here," he orders. His eyes have widened. A vein is throbbing in his neck.

"Cara, stay here," he repeats the urgent order. He seems to hesitate before releasing her arm and running to follow Crathsun out of the open door. She sits in the sudden silence of her confusion, her thoughts only interrupted by the insistence of the shard. Danger. Unable to sit still, she stands and paces across the empty hall. Squeezing her head with her hands, blowing out long deep breaths to calm her agitated body. Danger. The call of the shard follows her.

"Fuck off!" she shouts at it, turning her fear into frustration.

"I- I'm going," the man stammers as he emerges from the storage shelves. Cara lets out a small squeal of fright. As she recognises Flavitt, her hand pushes on her chest to calm her heart.

"Fuck's sake Flavitt, you scared the shit out of me." Her voice is a breathy relief.

"S-sorry," he stutters, backing away towards the open hangar doors. Danger.

"It's ok. Sorry, I'm jumpy," she holds a hand up apologetically. Ignoring the shard's warning that creeps into her thoughts, she tries to walk towards him, but her legs were reluctant to move.

"Something weird is going on," she says, uncertainly. Flavitt looks from her to the shard on the table.

"I'm- I'm going." He shuffles out of the open doors, almost tripping over his feet as he turns and disappears.

"What the fuck is going on?" Cara asks the empty room. The shard glows at her. Danger. A deep prolonged roar rumbles across the scrubland beyond the hall. She freezes, every sense heightening as her mind tries to place the noise. Danger. The roar rumbles again. Without understanding that she has made the decision, she reaches for the shard. His legs stretch further with each stride as he runs. Desperate strides. Wild. Panicked. Panting hard. Running for his life. Cara holds her breath. The fear disappears.

She stands alone, by the table, in the empty hall. The roar comes again, louder, more guttural. Instinctively she gives the hangar doors the notion to close. As they squeak and groan into movement she releases her breath. Flavitt is outside. She runs to the open doorway, through the curtain of welcoming sunlight, onto the gravel track outside. An animalistic cry comes from the lot. She turns, sees nothing but the debris strewn scrubland and track. A familiar double-ping-beep rings in her ears.

"Get upstairs," Draig shouts in her head. He is panting hard.

"Flavitt," she mutters in confusion to the empty scrubland.

"Cara!" he bellows, his loud voice in her head agitates her teeth. The effort costs him extra panting.

"Fucking get upstairs." A bear sprints towards her. A bear the size of a minibus, digging its claws into the dirt, powering itself at full speed towards her. A bear with a snarling wrinkled snout, baring long pointed teeth, drooling long strings of saliva. She screams.

"Fuck," Draig yells in her head, reading her thoughts. The bear released a powerful roar that reaches her in a hot humid cloud of putrefying stench. She activates the shard. Her outward scream becomes an inner scream - the notion to stop. The bear stumbles, as if the ground beneath it has been pulled away like a rug. Letting out an angry growl, it snorts and snuffles at the ground in confusion. Her lungs complain urgently. Her scream had expelled most of her air before she forced a breath hold.

Her diaphragm is already spasming in its efforts to force her inhale. The bear rises up on its hind legs. Its front paws stretch wide, patting down the air as it finds its balance. The tines on its back rise too, protruding out from its thick, furry shoulders like terrifying spiked armour. Now at its full height, the tines of the bear reach towards the height of the hall. Its angry black eyes home in on her as it lets out a fearsome roar. The little air she has left is released in a scream of pure terror.

She runs back into the hall, screaming again as she hears the hanger doors ripping from their hinges. With her legs moving too fast in panic, she stumbles and skids her way to the corridor doors by gym mats. Behind her shelving is crashing down as the bear forces its way into the hall. She activates the shard as she trips and plummets onto the mats, flinging any object she can think of wildly behind her. The metal table, one chair, the next chair and the next. The gym benches. The basket of water bottles.

Weights, one, then a second, a third, then a fourth. She has no idea if her missiles are finding the bear. In her panic she simply gives them all the notion to fling themselves fast across the room. She has lost sight of the door, her body is in a freefall of horror. Falling onto her hands and knees, her breath releases as she scrambles further across the mats. An angry roar chases her, rolling over her back and almost crushing her with fear. She flips onto her back. The bear looms above her.

One paw is braced in the rope knot. The other paw is held up high near its head, preparing to slice down at her with razor-sharp claws. In the corner of her eye, she sees a hexagonal weight thumping to the ground. She activates the shard, giving the weight the notion to fly into the bear's head at the speed of a rider. The bear's paw begins its downward swing. She clenches her jaw shut against a new scream, trapping her breath for her final defence.

The force of the weight smashing into the bear sends it toppling sideways. It lands violently on the mats with a ground-shaking thud. The bear's head lands atop its outstretched arm, the claws of which scraped the side of her boot. Blood flows easily over its oily, thick coat, seeping into a fast-growing puddle on the mats. Embedded solidly in its skull, replacing the eyeball that now hangs down over the bear's snout, is the hexagonal weight. Cara deactivates the shard in a raw, gut-wrenching scream.