Infante

Our tangle, caught and built by our hands, formed of twenty-seven individuals we’d hunted as they tried to use the underground to reposition in the battle.

> > [Crown of thorns 20.7

With the sharp and booming emphasis he put in the word ‘thing’, it was as if he’d seized the creature’s attention on purpose.  It reacted, and it lunged.

He struck at it with one hand as it closed the distance.  It dwarfed him, but it still reacted to the impact, the direction of its charge turned by five degrees, maybe as much as ten.  His hand remained in place, skidding along the wet, acid-slick surface of the creature’s head and neck, while the weight and force of the tangle’s lunge drove him back, his feet sliding on the floor of the building.

The tangle collapsed, belly-flopping onto the ground.  The Infante remained standing.  In the next moment, he turned, raising a leg.  His robes billowed as he kicked a stack of crates that had been lashed together.  Wood splintered and broke, contents spraying into the air, but the pallet moved with the impact, slamming into the adjacent stack of barrels.

Crown of thorns 20.8