Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [128]
"You wouldn't listen," Liriel hissed at Fyodor.
Nor was he listening now. With quick, fluid movements Fyodor rose to his feet, sword drawn. The young fighter's eyes became cold and hard, and to Liriel's astonishment he seemed to grow to a stature than matched that of the enraged quaggoth. No fool, the drow scrambled out of the path of the coming conflict. She threw herself behind some boulders and watched as the human charged forward.
The bear-creature jerked back the dead naga, then snapped it toward Fyodor with incredible force. The man was ready. He pivoted hard to the left and swung his sword low and back. As the naga's dead head shot forward, he sliced up to meet it. The broad dull blade cut cleanly through the scaly armor, and the severed head flew upward in an impressive arc.
"Mother Lloth," Liriel breathed, watching with wide eyes and growing excitement.
Fyodor ran in close, sword leading. The quaggoth batted the weapon aside with its paw, ignoring the deep gash that opened across its palm. Again it flailed the dead naga. Ichor splashed freely from the severed neck, but the human was in too close for the macabre whip to do him much harm. The quaggoth tossed aside the snake body and backhanded the man with its bleeding paw; the blow connected hard and sent Fyodor reelinp
Sensing an advantage, the quaggoth sprang. But the human had already regained his balance. He nimbly sidestepped the lunge, and the quaggoth measured its length on the rocky ground. Fyodor closed in, sword raised high for the finishing stroke.
But the deepbear rolled onto its back and pulled its knees up high and tight against its body. It kicked out hard and caught the man full in the chest. Fyodor flew backward, his back hitting a tree with an impact that threw his arms wide and knocked the sword from his hand.
The quaggoth once again pulled in its knees, this time to spring up onto its feet. The creature waded in, fangs bared in a silent snarl and massive arms flung wide in a grim parody of an embrace.
Fyodor pushed himself off the tree and barreled in, clasping the bear-creature around the middle. They went down like wrestlers, each grappling for a killing hold. Several minutes passed as they thrashed, equally matched in rage and strength.
Finally the man pinned the massive creature, both paws above its head. The quaggoth's furred head tossed from side to side, and although its jaws gnashed and snapped, it could gain no purchase. For the human's head was firmly pressed beneath its chin, forcing the shaggy head upward. Fyodor's head shook, savagely, several times, and blood began to flow down the furred neck of his captive. The quaggoth's struggles slowed to a shudder, and finally ceased.
Liriel pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out in triumph. Fyodor had torn the creature's throat out!
Yet some instinct warned her to keep silent, to stay out of sight. She watched from hiding as Fyodor rose slowly to his feet. He seemed to shrink in size right before her eyes, and he stared at the dead creature for a long moment, as if he could not fathom where it had come from. Then his shoulders slumped, and a low, despairing groan burst from him.
"What?" Liriel marveled, baffled by this response.
Then the human covered his mouth with both hands and darted into the bushes. That, Liriel could understand. The quaggoth smelled bad, even from where she stood. The taste of it would probably turn an ogre's stomach.
She waited until the human was finished and had staggered back into the clearing. He looked better, if extremely pale.