Free The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) by Drew Karpyshyn Page B

you’re wrong, can you?” Scythe sighed.
    “No,” Jerrod clarified. “I can see them now. A few miles off. They’re coming.”
    On the very edges of his Sight’s awareness, he could just make out a score of canines and three humans, crouched low to the ground as they ran and somehow keeping pace with their four-legged companions. The pack closed in quickly, covering the last few miles to the
Gerscheld
at a full run.
    The animals were massive; far larger than the domesticated dogs in the south. Most were covered with thick black fur though a handful were pure white. Their sharp white teeth gleamed brightly against their black mouths and gums, and their lupine eyes glowed yellow in the night.
    The humans—two women and one man, he realized as they drew closer—were clad in heavy pelts from head to toe to shield them against the cold. Jerrod had expected them to be armed, but they carried no weapons, though their bare hands sported half-inch-long fingernails filed to sharp points.
    As the pack neared, he could hear the humans communicating through a mix of whistles and long, high-pitched howls that pierced the wind and rain. In response, the dogs fanned out, with several circling around to cut off any chance for the Inquisitors to escape.
    Jerrod knew the Inquisitors had no intention of trying to run. They were young and passionate: too eager to prove themselves tothe new Pontiff to even consider retreat. However, despite their enthusiasm, they had no chance of victory.
    Outnumbered four to one, their supernatural speed and strength wouldn’t be enough to overcome the unfavorable odds. Not against this kind of enemy. The Order trained its warriors to fight human foes, not animals. The attacks and counters that proved so devastating against an armed opponent would be far less effective against a swarming pack of savage beasts.
    More importantly, the mystical ability of the monks to peer into an enemy’s mind to anticipate and counter every move wouldn’t work. The dogs weren’t rational and calculating; they didn’t rely on strategy and technique. Their attacks would be driven by raw and brutal instincts, making their actions impossible to predict.
    Sort of like Scythe
.
    “When the fighting starts, we can hit them from behind,” the young woman suggested eagerly, almost as if she sensed that Jerrod was thinking about her. “They won’t stand a chance with enemies on all sides.”
    “That wouldn’t be wise,” Norr warned.
    The barbarian had braved the storm to come to stand with Scythe and Jerrod once the howls began to pierce the night, leaving Vaaler to watch over Keegan in the shelter of the stone circle.
    “The dogs will attack anyone who isn’t part of the pack,” Norr explained. “They could just as easily turn on us as the Inquisitors.”
    “But if the Inquisitors win the battle, we’re not any better off than we were before,” Scythe objected.
    “They won’t,” Jerrod assured her.
    When the attack came it was quick, violent, and decisive. Even through the storm and the night’s gloom, Jerrod’s awareness allowed him to witness the slaughter in all its graphic detail.
    The pack rolled over the Inquisitors like a wave of fur, teeth, and claws. Spinning their staves, the Inquisitors flipped, spun, andtwirled with terrifying speed. But the dogs never faltered, never hesitated. The sharp crack of bone as a hound’s ribs were broken with a precise strike was drowned out by the wet rip of an Achilles tendon being torn out by sharp teeth. The yelp of pain as the butt of a staff was driven into a wolflike eye was offset by the snarling snap of jaws clamping down on a wrist and refusing to let go. Soon, even the screams of pain as flesh was shredded and torn into bloody chunks by savage fangs couldn’t rise above the barking, baying cacophony of the hunt.
    The Pack Masters never even entered the fray, content to merely watch as their pets dragged the Inquisitors down and literally ripped them