Free Beastly by Matt Khourie

threatening to reclaim the wharfs. Malachai roared a challenge to the wind and ordered his men around the emerald flame. The Wakeful raised a cathedral of swords over the fire, edges clanging against the tempest.
    The green flame raised the Beast’s hackles. This magic was different than Urda’s. The unholy blaze hinted at a greater, darker evil. It was unnatural. It did not belong in this world. The Beast abandoned the safety of the cairn and rushed to the village. A shock wave blasted from the pyre in a bubble of shimmering energy. The Beast was knocked down hard. His ears rang with a high pitched whine. The ground felt like it had melted into a rolling sea.
    Sensheeri fared little better. A smoldering pit three acres wide steamed with the ashes of the blast. The village shops were no more than immolated skeletons of glowing ember. Screams and groans filled the acrid air. Panic stricken survivors scrambled in all directions, searching for sanctuary. Men scooped up wives, who scooped up children, and fled for the safety of the trees.
    Only Lia’s light remained unshaken. Her face was the same mask of tranquility.
    Malachai’s fist crushed his sword’s hilt. The burn of his crimson eyes flickered in tune with the embers at his feet. “Seize the girl.”
    A Wakeful sheathed his jagged sword and sprinted like a wolf running down prey. Lia’s hands crossed in waving patterns, working the enchantment to its pinnacle. The Wakeful closed, drawing a twisted dagger. The Beast hurdled the child in a blur of billowing cloak, barreling a bone-crushing blow into the Wakeful a pace from Lia’s side. The collision smashed a tangle of fur and steel through Sensheeri’s well.
    The Beast climbed from the stony wreckage and towered over the fallen soldier. He seized the Wakeful’s faceplate, hoisting him to eye level. Snarling, he squeezed. Malachai ordered the attack and the rest of his men charged. The grating screech of metal being crushed quickly halted the advance. The Beast held his trophy high and then casually tossed the drone aside.
    He threw his massive shoulders back, bared every last fang and growled, daring them to come.
    The Wakeful split apart, circling the Beast. One charged, slashing high. The Beast caught a gleam in the blade, paused a breath, then ducked. A Wakeful to his rear careened in and rolled over his shoulder. The Beast channeled the momentum and flung him into Wakeful at his front. He clamored over the pile of black armor, rushing for the green fire. Malachai and company plunged their swords into the pyre of emerald, siphoning power into their blades. The fire burst, spewing embers into the snow. The discarded embers sizzled and the ground began to shake.
    The Beast danced awkwardly for a moment and then dropped to four paws. The Wakeful withdrew their swords and the quake died. Their obsidian blades pulsed with borrowed power.
    They took aim with the charged weapons and loosed jets of green flame. The Beast rolled away. Ravenous tendrils singed his cloak and burned patches of black glass into the land. They lined up for a second volley, but he was ready. He snatched up two heavy pieces of broken well and heaved them like a catapult. The missiles connected with a boom, blasting two Wakeful into Lake Tamahl’s freezing grip.
    Malachai threw a whirling sword that wedged into the ground a pace before the Beast.
    The Beast snorted. “Not even close, Wakeful filth.”
    Malachai droned a chortling sound. “Hardly.”
    The Beast’s wild ears twitched at a faint whistling sound. He dove aside, narrowly escaping a screaming meteorite. A second, then third orb of malachite fell, birthing quakes of their own. The Beast evaded, dodging storms of debris, with a flurry of dashes and dives.
    Lia cried out. “Jack!”
    The Beast rolled to his feet, head snapping to the cry. Malachai was dragging Lia to his waiting mount. She dug her heels in and wrestled her captor’s grip, but the ground was too muddy and Malachai