Page 22 of Kill the Beast
“Fuck if I know,” Lyssa whispered back. Glyphs and ingredients were one thing. The actual act of spellcrafting was witches’ work, as Ragnhild always said, and not something she had ever deigned to teach Lyssa. Good thing Lyssa didn’t need to know how Rags cast a spell in order to kill something with the weapon that resulted from that spell.
Nadia let out a little grunt of triumph as the herbs finally caught fire, then paced around the glyph counterclockwise, waving the smoking bundle as she went. Rags took up a position atthe base of the chalk drawing, where the glyph would be right-side-up from her view, and began to chant.
“What language is that?” Alderic whispered, looking faintly queasy. Lyssa’s stomach wasn’t faring too well, either; finally standing here after thirteen years felt like she was full of moths, dusty wings battering against her insides, desperate for a way out. She shushed Alderic quickly, though. Now that Ragnhild was chanting her spell, it was important not to interrupt.
The chalk lines of the glyph began to glow, and the sight of it triggered a deep-seated terror within Lyssa, no less powerful than it had been the first and only time she had seen it alight. It grew brighter and brighter, until it was blinding, and then something filled the air—a faint feeling of fury that lifted the hairs on the back of Lyssa’s neck. But it fizzled shortly after it had begun, and Ragnhild’s shoulders slumped. The glyph’s light winked out.
“Did you get anything?” Lyssa asked her, anxiety intensifying that moth-filled feeling.
The old witch shook her head. “Not much. It does seem to be a revenge glyph, but for what, I couldn’t tell. It feels… dark, though. Angry. Perhaps some sort of grievous injury done to an aelf?”
Lyssa curled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palm. “That doesn’t make any sense. We have all of the components! Why didn’t it work?”
“It could be the glyph itself,” Ragnhild said gently, her gaze meeting Lyssa’s. “The… eyewitness might have missed some key details, or maybe—”
“No,” Lyssa said, refusing to accept it. “That’s not possible.” She saw the fucking thing every time she closed her eyes. How could it bewrong?
“Eyewitnesses are unreliable at best,” Alderic said, matter-of-factly. “Stress can do strange things to the brain, you know, and—”
“Will you shut up?” Lyssa spat, doubt and anxiety festeringwithin her.Hadfear distorted her memory? She had seen the actual glyph only once, after all, over a decade ago… right before the most traumatic moment of her life. “Fuck.” She began to pace, teeth clenched, the moths in her stomach burning up in a flare of frustration.
Alderic turned to Ragnhild. “I thought you said that as long as the glyph was close, it could still work.”
“I did,” the witch said, inclining her head. “But a single line can alter the meaning of a glyph significantly. Whatever is wrong with this one, it appears to be crucial enough that I cannot decipher the claw’s magic.” She looked at each of them in turn, her face grave. “We appear to be at an impasse.”
“No,” Lyssa said. “No, we’re not. Let’s try one more time. Maybe—”
“I’m sorry,” Ragnhild told her, her eyes filled with sorrow. “But without more information, it would only yield the same results.”
“You could wait until the Beast is out of hibernation,” Nadia said. “Try to get a better look at the glyph when it wakes up.”
“We don’t havetime,” Lyssa growled. “The Hound-wardens will be swarming the forest soon, if they aren’t already. Even if we can sneak past them long enough to get to the Beast’s den and somehow catch a good enough glimpse of its glyph without getting slaughtered, we’ll still have to gather the ingredients and forge the weapon. Honoria will steal it right out from under me, and—” She bit down on the rest, clenched her teeth so hard it hurt.And my one chance for revenge will be gone forever.
Alderic pressed his lips into a thin line. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, and then he held out his hand. “May I have the chalk for a moment, please?”
Lyssa and the witches stared at him, then at each other.
“You’ve seen it,” Lyssa said with sudden understanding. She had always thought she was the last. The monster had vanished that night, and no hair of it had been seen since. But of course Alderic had seen it—he had discovered its lair, was keeping an eyeon it out in Bleakhaven. He must have caught a glimpse. “You’ve seen the Beast.”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I hide whenever it emerges from its den.” At her expression, he flushed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!I’mno hunter. That’s why I hiredyouto kill it. But I’ve done research of my own. I found a mention of the Beast and a drawing of the mark it wears in an old book, once.”
“Bullshit.” Lyssa crossed her arms, eyeing him. “Rags and I have combed through what little information we’ve been able to find on the Beast, and there are no drawings of its glyph.” There had been no written records of the Beast at all, until a little over two hundred years ago, when it wiped out a small farming community in central Ibyrnika. All Lyssa had been able to find about that first appearance was a list of the dead, and a brief description of the creature from the sole survivor. The child hadn’t described the glyph in any detail, just that there was a glowing mark on the thing’s chest.
The lack of information had been frustrating, although not exactly surprising. The Hounds had been created a very long time ago, and many of the written records from that period had not survived intact. But none of their histories were quite as elusive as the Beast’s. With a little digging, Lyssa was usually able to figure out where a Hound had first been formed, at least—old wives’ tales stood the test of time in a way ink and paper did not, even if they became more and more exaggerated with each telling, and people were eager to warn their grandchildren about the monsters that lurked in the forests outside of town.
The Beast, though… the Beast seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
“When one is friends with royalty, one has certain resources at his disposal,” Alderic said lightly, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down his nose at her. “There is a certain book in the Royal Library. Stories from old Ibyrnika, beautifully illustrated. The only one of its kind. I saw the symbol in there and copied it down. I have stared at the image often enough thatI might be of some assistance here. I was reluctant to step on any toes, before, but it appears that I have no choice, if we are to succeed in this endeavor.”
Lyssa gritted her teeth. Of course. Ofcoursethe rich asshole would have access to books she and Rags did not. Of coursethatwas where the information they needed was kept.
“Go on, then, Mr. Important,” she snapped, waving her hand at the glyph on the floor. “Save the day for us poor wretches.”
“Do you have something to erase with?” he asked.
“Just use your sleeve,” Lyssa said, and he looked at her like she had just suggested he use a kitten as a cutting board.
“Here,” Nadia said, crouching over the glyph. “What do you want to erase?”
