Then ca the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn, tal scraping against the leather of its sheath.
"STAY IN THE CARRIAGE AND PROTECT THE CHILDREN!"
"YES, SIR!" the coachman replied, his voice trembling but obedient.
Lukas felt his heart accelerate even more.
’A One-Horned Tiger.’
’A beast. A real creature.’
He didn’t know what it was. He had never heard the na before. But the roar... the roar said everything. That was not an ordinary animal. It was sothing that demanded respect. And fear.
Aurora held both children tighter against her, her voice firm despite her fear.
"Stay calm. Your father will protect us. He’s faced worse things before. Don’t worry."
Lukas felt Judite’s hand trembling against his arm. The girl was frightened, her brown eyes wide, her breathing quick and shallow.
"M-Mother..." Judite stamred.
"What is a One-Horned Tiger?"
"Quiet, my love," Aurora replied, kissing the top of her daughter’s head.
"Not now."
Lukas, on the other hand, was not trembling.
He was focused.
His violet eyes fixed on the carriage window, covered by a thick fabric curtain that swayed with the vehicle’s movents. He couldn’t see what was happening outside, but he could hear it.
And hearing was almost as good as seeing.
Lukas focused all his attention on the sounds outside.
The beast’s ferocious roar, deeper than the roar of any earthly animal, almost tallic in texture, echoed again, followed by the sound of Clavor charging forward.
His father’s boots struck the ground with force, the packed earth cracking beneath his feet. The sound of the sword cutting through the air was clear even from inside the carriage, a sharp, swift, precise swish.
’Clang!’
The sound of tal striking sothing, claws? Fangs? Tough hide?, rang out like an alarm bell.
’Thump!’
Sothing heavy hit the ground. Lukas imagined the beast leaping, or perhaps his father dodging an attack.
’Rooooar!’
Another roar, closer this ti. The carriage trembled slightly from the vibration.
Lukas heard Clavor grunt, not in pain, but from exertion. He was attacking. Retreating. Attacking again.
"Left side!" Clavor shouted, probably to the coachman.
"Keep the carriage away from the trees!"
The coachman responded with the crack of a whip, and the carriage shifted slightly to the right. The wooden wheels groaned against the dirt road, and Lukas felt the vehicle’s balance adjust.
Another tallic impact. Another roar. Then a sound Lukas couldn’t imdiately identify, a loud crack, like wood splitting apart.
’Did he hit it?’ Lukas thought.
’Did he hit the beast?’
Tilbo stirred restlessly inside his pocket. Lukas felt her tiny legs moving against the fabric of his coat, as if she too sensed the tension, the danger.
"Stay still," Lukas whispered softly, only for the ant.
"It’s okay."
He wasn’t sure it was okay.
The battle continued.
The sound of the sword cutting through the air, once, twice, three tis.
"Advance! Rising Slash!"
’Claaang!’
Another roar, but this one was different. Higher-pitched. Shorter. Lukas frowned.
’Pain? Did Father wound the beast?’
"Good strike!" Clavor exclaid, and Lukas could almost see him smiling, that fierce smile he wore during battles.
"Not so frightening, are you?"
The beast answered with a roar that made the carriage windows tremble. The wooden fras creaked from the vibration.
Inside the carriage, Judite buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Aurora stroked her hair with one hand while holding Lukas against her chest with the other. Her lips moved silently, a prayer, perhaps, or maybe just words of comfort for herself.
Lukas kept listening.
’One-Horned Tiger,’ he thought, repeating the na in his mind.
’What is it? What does it look like? Is it the size of a horse? Bigger? Does it have fur? Scales?’
He didn’t know.
But he wanted to know.
He wanted to see.
Outside, Clavor Dmond faced the beast with the experience of years of battle.
The One-Horned Tiger was an imposing creature, over two ters long, with muscular shoulders rising as high as an adult man’s chest.
Its fur was a deep orange, almost reddish, marked with black stripes running across its back like natural war paint. Its yellow, vertical-pupiled eyes glead with fierce intelligence.
And on its forehead, between its pointed ears, rose the horn that gave the species its na.
The horn was not like a rhinoceros’s, short and thick. It was long, curved, and silver, with bluish veins pulsing faintly as though it possessed a life of its own. Its tip was as sharp as a spear.
Clavor had faced this beast before, years ago, when he had still been young and foolish. He knew the horn was not rely a physical weapon, it contained mana, magical energy. A strike from that thing could pierce steel armor.
Thunder, his black horse, neighed fearfully several ters behind him, its eyes white with terror, yet it remained firm and loyal despite its panic.
Clavor positioned himself between the beast and the carriage.
He would not retreat.
He never retreated.
The One-Horned Tiger charged again, its claws, as long as daggers, slashing through the air toward the warrior. Clavor dodged with a swift spin, his sword rising in a diagonal slash that carved a deep wound into the beast’s shoulder.
The tiger roared in pain, stepping back, but it did not flee.
Clavor frowned.
’Different from the others.’
The beast stared at him, its yellow eyes locked onto his, the horn pulsing with an increasingly intense bluish glow.
Clavor adjusted his grip on the sword.
Blood trickled from a scratch on his arm. He had taken a hit at the beginning of the battle when he had underestimated the creature’s speed. It wasn’t deep, but it burned.
"Co on," he said quietly.
"One more ti."
The One-Horned Tiger roared.
And attacked again.
Inside the carriage, Lukas clenched his small fists.
The sounds of battle continued outside, the beast’s roar, Clavor’s battle cries, and the impact of sword against claws and horn. With every sound, Lukas felt a stab of anxiety.
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