POV -> Corian

Corian had not stopped until he reached the bottom of the ravine once more, spattered with mud and forest debris from his rushed descent back into the forest and careless trek up and down the shadow of the broken bridge above him.

He had found some of the other bodies, necks broken by ropes and already defaced by wild animals. But in his tireless search, he had not seen a commander's mark.

But that did not mean the search for Justin's fate was fruitless. He had found a clear in the trees, bedded with crisp autumn leaves that clumped together at their center in a sticky reddish-brown stain. He had smelt the blood in his panicked state before he saw it, and had lingered in the scene with a mix of emotions.

Fear - knowing there was enough blood painting the bed of leaves to assure Corian that, if it was Justin's, he had not ended the fall unscathed. And hope as he saw the pieces of a dismantled arcane hound that were suspended from the tree branches by glittering trails of webs. If Justin was still down here, he was dead. But if someone had found him, where Corian had failed, there was a chance he was alive.

Corian tugged a metal leg free of its webbing, feeling the weight of the makeshift club in his hand. Any magic that once coated the golem had been dispelled. But it was still a hunk of steel that could bludgeon the uncuttable.

And his father had travelled with two hounds.

He continued through the ravine, Justin's name constantly leaving his lips as his eyes still searched the dimmed light for a commander. The hope of the webs in the clearing had blocked him from searching as thoroughly as he had done before. He would do anything to keep it alive in the back of his mind, the thought that Justin's sister had somehow found him.

He wanted Justin to wander over to the sound of his voice, or not at all. Finding him dead was worse than the closure it would ultimately bring.

And soon, as night came once more, he found himself scaling the other side of the ravine. The right side this time. No strange shadows followed him except the twinkling eyes of curious ghouls that watched in the shrubs from a distance as he climbed. And unlike his first trek, with steel gauntlets and a dagger to force easy holds, he made quick work of the wall and faced the dark forest and rolling hills that rippled all the way to Stonesong.

Corian eyed the remains of the vining bridge. The chances that his father had left anything incriminating were slim. The ropes once used to hang most of Justin's squadron had been cleared by a sea of blackened embers. It had eaten everything. Packs, cloaks, flesh and blood.

As he followed the scorch marks off the bridge, he found himself stepping along a line of fading black that almost looked like running steps. Corian stopped where they ended, gazing at the mound of black ash.

A body that had easily burned, because it was not filled with flesh and bone. Corian could see some of the dried leaves that had survived, tossed a few feet from the scorched mound and decorated with little poorly done paintings to mimic playing cards.

How could he have forgotten?

Rikka had not been the only one who had helped him that night.

She was not the only one that would face his father's wrath.

He knelt at the pile, carefully picking up a few of the cards to silently skim through them. There were no words to speak. No one would hear them. But guilt was a familiar feeling Corian carried around these days. It had started as a blue flower, and now a few painted leaves would join the pile.

Corian solemnly tucked them into the helmet next to Rikka's flower. His ears caught a snap while he adjusted Rikka's flower, and his body tensed to listen. And then it came again, a soft footstep in the shrubs.

He snapped around to the sound, the guest not even trying to hide. A hound stalked the trail behind him, its blazing eyes once boring into his back now locking gazes. He could see the small indent where its face had been smashed a few times with a rock, and a few shallow scratches from when it had tumbled down the side of a cliff.

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Corian let the rage bubble up, knowing he would not be so kind this time. The creature couldn't have chosen a better time to show up. The only thing he hated was the fact that he couldn't make this foe bleed like his father's squadron.

With a chilling calm, he gripped the metal club of a leg, and slowly rose to his feet.

They both rushed towards one another, the hound faking a bite at the last second and running around Corian to try and bite at the softer leather straps holding his leg guards. He stepped to match its maneuver and face it, then swung the metal appendage, striking the hound's side with a sharp clang that reverberated through its ribs and sent it rolling. The golem ended its skid on its feet, rearing up to leap at Corian with its jaws stretched wide.

Corian let out a loud cry as he struck the hound's head, throwing it to the ground again. The hound scrabbled to its feet, magic flaring as it let off a strange string of short chuffs at Corian. It pounced again, this time biting for Corian's swinging arm. It's teeth locked for a moment, before sliding off the metal gauntlet with a pitched ring, and leaving its side open for Corian to land a solid kick on it.

The golem bit again, its teeth catching on the club. Instead of sliding off the metal, they found a groove this time, and the beast squared its stance and pulled. Corian squared back, enduring the tug-of-war with the dog. A clever jerk of the head managed to rip the weapon free of Corian's hands.

It stared at him, holding the stick of a leg. Just as Corian clicked in on the dog's look, it was already turning tail, the split second head start earning it a dangerous lead in its retreat. But Corian, still fueled by the embers of a hungering rage, held chase, his feet flying without exhaustion after the creature.

The cramping bite of his metal armor bit at his joints, but even the pain of an arrow going through his chest would come second to catching his prey. As soon as he was right behind the hound, he leapt, hugging the back of its midsection and flattening it to the ground with him. He quickly readjusted to grip its hind legs. The hound dug its claws into the dirt as he dragged it backwards, trying to kick free from Corian's hold. Despite his inhuman strength, the golem still packed a punch, and he could feel his grip slipping with each protesting kick.

He wasn't going to make it to the cliff. So he went for the next best option.

He stopped next to a thick tree, stretched his arms out, and twirled around. The hound flew through the air in Corian's hands, until it gracelessly hit the tree and its body folded around the trunk. The sound of the crunch filled Corian with an indescribable satisfaction.

Corian let out a laugh as the creature painfully picked itself back up. He snatched the leg it had dropped, and went right back to swinging. The first blow struck its head, flattening it to the ground.

Again the club struck the hound, the cry of metal like a sweet song in Corian's ears.

He continued the chorus, every strike tickling up his arm. Each blow leaving a new dent on the hound's body to paint his rage in the only way he knew how.

The strikes continued to ring through the forest, until they were cut by a whining crunch, and half of Corian's weapon lay in the grass, cracked at the middle like a cheap sword. Corian eyed the broken weapon, and the hound, still somehow moving let out that same strange noise.

A short string of chuffs.

He eyed the beast. "I'm going to kill you."

The sound continued from the beast. And then he realized what the monster controlling it was trying to make it do.

It was laughing.

The hound continued its string of short chuffs. The sweetness drained from the air as Corian realized it was not suffering. The false life could not feel pain, nor its handler that watched through its burning eyes.

Corian shoved the hound's head into the dirt, his legs wrapping its body to hold it still. And then he slipped his fingers between the crevice of its neck and body, finding a hold on either side of the metal and tugging.

The joint refused the budge, his fingers slipping. So he dug his fingers in deeper, feeling the magic inside of the beast bite through his gloves and burn at his skin. But so long as he had fingers, he was going to keep pulling. The hound flailed as the magic stretched, the pain in his fingers dulled, and a sickly scent reached his nose. With one last surge of strength, he tore the strings of magic loose, each breaking strand crackling and spitting painful embers at his body. The hound fell limp, its limbs falling loose one by one as the magic crumbled.

Corian held up the head, the magic in its eyes dimming as the spell that wove its life bled through his fingers and trickled to the ground. He brought the head closer, catching the final shred of life in its eyes, and knowing who smiled back.

The adrenaline mixed honey into his spiteful hiss. "You're next."

He dropped the head on the ground, and with a running start and a well spent kick, sent the hound's head sailing into the ravine.

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