Wings Over Talera - Charles Allen Gramlich [36]
I cut at the thing’s head and it reared, showing a slender neck that slanted down to a barrel chest and heavy, lizard-like shoulders that gave rise to massive front legs. Beyond those legs the body tapered twenty-five feet to tiny hind limbs and a fluked tail like a whale’s.
I ran to my right, shouting long and loud, trying to draw the beast’s attention and make it turn. Graye was hovering, waiting to leap in to grab for Kreeg. But my ploy failed. In horror, I saw the creature’s weight come down on my injured friend. The head dipped, mouth opening almost daintily as it bent to shred him with savage fangs.
Valyan was shooting, shooting. The arrows flew and struck, seemingly without effect. And I jumped forward, bringing the sword up and over my head in a desperate gamble, spinning it and driving it down again behind the laith’s left shoulder to seek the heart. The creature screeched in raw pain and...shrugged. That ripple of muscle snapped my blade off in the wound and sent me jolting backward to smash hard into the side wall.
I staggered and went down to both knees, shaking my head, my vision winking and blooming with scarlet pinpoints of light. My right fist held only a foot long stub of sword now, but I clenched it tight as I tried to get my legs under me. Pain arced along overtaxed muscles but I found my feet and swayed there. At least I had the laith’s attention. It turned and humped toward me like some monstrous walrus, tail lashing against the doorway through which it had burst. Heavy logs shivered and broke away, bringing down half the wall.
I readied myself, mouth sandy dry, heart pounding like frenetic surf. As the laith shifted its bulk to attack me, Graye got hold of Kreeg’s arms and dragged him free. I couldn’t see whether my friend lived or not, but, if dead, he might soon have me for company. Valyan had emptied his quiver and drawn his rapier. He ran toward the laith, moving to aid me now. Then he froze. I heard a strange, almost ghostly shout, but couldn’t see where it had come from or why Valyan had hesitated.
The laith struck at me and I tried to dodge, and only the buckling of its arrow-weakened right leg saved me. The thing smashed snout first into the floor in front of my boots, and for that bare instant it was vulnerable. I took the only chance I had, half leaping, half falling across its muzzle, the stub of sword rising and dropping, burying itself deep into the juncture where soft eye met harder skull—with the brain just barely beneath. Jagged steel grated and then locked as the quillions hooked on bone and held.
A convulsion rippled the length of the laith’s body. It started to rear, but I was up before it could crush me against the roof, my feet slipping, then catching as I lunged forward over its fleshy head and slid-rolled down its shoulder to sprawl on the stone floor. Death bit and tore at the laith’s straining muscles and I threw myself away from its shuddering agonies, then rose, drawing my dagger as I reached my feet. I saw what had pulled Valyan to a stop.
Half a dozen bony creatures skittered through the torn wall, their claws clacking like metal rain on the floor. Mist wreathed their antlered heads. Two launched themselves at Diken Graye and the unconscious Kreeg. The other four came for us, for Valyan and me. Valyan leaped to meet them, rapier weaving. I followed, my chest shuddering for breath. Sweat coated me, slicking the dagger in my hand, and I wished desperately for something more than that slender blade to guard myself. At my back the laith writhed its last and died. There was no time to rejoice.
Our new foes were Sporns, a race that I had not seen before but knew of from stories. One story had involved the Priest-Cult