Chapter 29: One-Horned Tiger (3)
’Father is moving. He’s not standing still. He’s still fighting.’
’That’s good.’
The thought came and went, replaced by another, and another, and another, a torrent of analyses and conjectures that did not cease even as his heart pounded against his small ribs.
Judite trembled in her mother’s lap, her tiny body shaking with every distant roar that echoed through the wooden walls of the carriage. Her fingers were buried so deeply into Aurora’s dress that her knuckles had turned white. Her face was pressed into her mother’s shoulder, and small sobs escaped her lips at irregular intervals.
Aurora held her tightly against her chest with one arm while the other wrapped around Lukas, keeping both children safe within her protective embrace. Her lips moved in a constant murmur, almost inaudible, a prayer, or perhaps several prayers, recited one after another like a rosary of hope. Her violet eyes were tightly shut, and beads of cold sweat glistened on her pale forehead.
"Ancient gods, protect my husband," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"New gods, watch over my family. May his sword remain steady. May his arm never falter."
Lukas, however, remained calm.
A calmness that surprised even himself.
His violet eyes, so similar to his mother’s yet carrying a different light, were fixed on the small gap between the fabric curtain and the frame of the carriage window. Through it, he could see fragments of the outside world. Trees swaying, the silver flash of Clavor’s sword reflecting the sunlight, and the dust kicked up by his father’s swift movements.
His eyes shone with a mixture of genuine concern for his father and an intense, almost voracious curiosity.
’A One-Horned Tiger.’
The name echoed through his mind like a bell.
’I want to see it.’
’I want to see how it fights. I want to see how the beast moves. I want to see what it looks like.’
He knew he could not leave the carriage. Clavor had been clear.
"DON’T LEAVE THE CARRIAGE!"
His father’s voice still echoed in his ears, deep and urgent.
Aurora held him tightly, her fingers trembling against his arm. He was a baby. No matter how monstrous his strength was, no matter how intelligent he was, no matter how much his eighteen-year-old mind inside a ten-month-old body could process and analyze, he was vulnerable.
One swipe from that beast’s claws could tear him in half. A strike from its horn could pierce him before he could even blink.
But that did not stop his mind from racing.
’What does its fur look like? Its claws? Its horn?’
’Is it similar to the tigers of Earth? Or completely different?’
’Does it use the horn to attack or only to intimidate?’
’How large is it? How fast? How intelligent?’
The questions swarmed through his mind like ants in an anthill.
Like Tilbo in an anthill, he corrected himself mentally, with a small inward smile.
Tilbo, inside the inner pocket of his coat, moved again. This time more agitated than before. Lukas felt her tiny legs moving frantically against his chest, as though she were running in circles inside the small space of fabric. Her shell, which Lukas now knew possessed an unusual metallic sheen, pressed against his skin through the lining.
’Calm down,’ he whispered, running a hand over the pocket with a gentle, almost imperceptible motion.
’It’s okay. Father will win.’
Lukas believed that.
He knew Clavor was extremely strong.
The beast’s roar was too powerful. The sound of metal striking claws was too sharp. The tension in the air was too dense.
The battle outside continued fiercely.
Clavor shouted brief commands. The sound of his sword slicing through the air was clear even from inside the carriage, a sharp swish that cut through the beast’s roar like a blade through cloth. Another powerful roar followed, then an impact that sent dust into the air. Lukas imagined the beast leaping or perhaps being slammed into the ground. The carriage trembled slightly from the vibration.
Yet Lukas kept his eyes open, his ears attentive, his heart racing, but his mind as clear as spring water.
"For the first time..." he thought as another roar echoed through the forest, making the carriage windows tremble.
"A real beast."
"This world is truly dangerous."
And for the first time since his rebirth, he felt genuine excitement mixed with fear.
The journey to the city had just become far more interesting.
Outside, after exchanging several more blows, Clavor stepped back.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His linen shirt, once immaculate, was torn in three different places. Two superficial scratches marked his right shoulder and left flank, where the beast’s claws had passed only a few centimeters too close to flesh. A deeper cut ran across his left forearm, where his counterattack had not been fast enough. Blood trickled slowly down his arm, running between his fingers and dripping onto the packed earth. But it was nothing serious. Nothing he had not faced before in harsher battles against more dangerous enemies.
The One-Horned Tiger stopped as well.
The beast stood only a few meters away, its sides heaving, its pink tongue hanging between its fangs. Its tail swayed slowly from side to side like a threatening metronome.
Its flank bled from two deep wounds Clavor had managed to inflict during the fight. One on the right shoulder, where the sword had cut through flesh all the way to the bone, and another on the rear thigh, causing the beast to limp slightly with every step. Blood flowed through its reddish-orange fur, dark and thick, dripping onto the packed dirt road and forming small dark puddles.
Yet its yellow eyes still burned with savage fury.
The tiger’s gaze traveled across Clavor’s body from head to toe, searching for weaknesses, hesitations, and openings.
The single horn on its forehead now pulsed with an intense bluish light.
