Part 58 (2/2)

Uncle Argoth lay upon the ground, unmoving.

Was he dead?

Two more dreadmen closed on the creature. They carried spears and harried it, thrusting repeatedly at its head. Their movements were blinding fast, but their blows had no effect. Nothing seemed to phase this creature.

The monster s.n.a.t.c.hed one of the spears and jabbed it into one of the dreadman's faces. The other dreadman struck, but the monster swung the spear and gave the dreadman such a blow to the side that Talen was sure half his ribs had been staved in. The dreadman fell over backward.

The Skir Master withdrew his arm and punched into the back of the monster a bit higher. His arm sunk almost up to the shoulder. ”Yes!” he said.

The monster twisted round violently, slamming the Skir Master with its elbow, knocking him into the air. The Skir Master landed with a grunt a number of yards away amidst some scrub.

The monster made a sound-a loud, horrible sigh-and turned toward the Skir Master.

Men littered this small battlefield. Most of the surviving Fir-Noy were fleeing to the slopes of the vale. The dreadmen were either dead or lying incapacitated.

The Skir Master shook himself and stood, disgust and anger twisting his face. He held up something dark. Something he'd taken from deep within the monster. ”You will not prevail,” he said.

But the monster strode forward.

The Skir Master stood his ground.

At the far side of the meadow, a huge crack sounded. A tree limb as thick as a man's body was tossed into the air, and then a wind screamed across the meadow, flattening the scrub of the clearing as it came, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

The monster charged.

But the wind was faster. The Skir Master stretched his tattooed arms out wide into the wind. A moment later the wind carried him aloft like a leaf in a storm.

The monster took two enormous strides and sprang after him, leaping a dozen or more feet into the air.

Talen thought he saw it catch the Skir Master's leg, but the wind thrashed the bushes, casting debris into his eyes. Then a huge gust slammed into Talen, knocking him onto his back. Something struck his face, nearly blinding him, and Talen rolled over, clenching his eyes shut.

The wind howled about him, plucking at his clothes, and then as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

He lay there a moment, stunned.

And then he remembered Sugar's words-they did not want to be here when this battle ended.

Talen climbed to his knees and brushed his face, careful of the cut the dreadman had given him. When he opened his eyes, he found dirt, leaves, and sticks still fluttering about the meadow. His hand pained him, and he looked down. A thin twig sticking straight out of the flesh between his first and second finger. He plucked it out and cast it aside.

Beside him Sugar and Legs were brus.h.i.+ng themselves off.

He looked up. At first he saw nothing, and then, hundreds of yards above him, he saw the Skir Master and monster. He watched them sail upwards into the morning sky until they were nothing more than black dots.

”Let's go!” Sugar said.

Uncle Argoth shouted in pain.

Talen turned and saw him huddled on his knees, the case of hag's teeth lying in the gra.s.s beside him.

”Uncle,” Talen said. ”Uncle.”

”No,” Argoth said. ”No, no, no.” Then he winced as if someone had struck him and cried out in extreme agony.

Talen drew back, expecting a hag's tooth to wriggle its way out of him.

Arogth jerked, and then the terror fled his face and he sagged and let out a great sob. ”Master. Lords, no,” he said and began to weep like a child.

”Talen,” said Sugar from behind. ”Get the horse.”

”You're going to be all right,” said Talen to Uncle Argoth. ”We're all going to be all right. We just need to get out of here.”

”By all . . .” Sugar said in dismay.

The fear in her voice made Talen turn. He followed her gaze into the sky and saw the Skir Master plummeting from the heavens. Down he fell in a slow turn, one leg in front of the other as if he were taking a lazy step.

He slammed into the ground with a large, sickening thud at the edge of the clearing.

A small group of Fir-Noy soldiers who had not fled shouted and pointed toward the sky.

Talen looked up. Another figure, larger and darker than the Skir Master fell from the heavens. It slammed to the earth only a few dozen paces from the Skir Master.

The Skir Master did not rise. But a few moments later the monster did, towering and fearsome.

It was impossible.

The Fir-Noy cast their weapons and what armor they could from them and fled.

”Run,” Talen shouted to Sugar. ”Run!”

He turned to Uncle Argoth who lay upon the ground huddled in on himself. ”Uncle!” he shouted. ”Get up! Uncle!” He ran to him and shook him. ”Uncle!”

Uncle Argoth turned and looked up at Talen, grief wracking his face.

”Get up,” said Talen. ”We need to leave.”

”Talen,” he said and touched Talen's face. ”He's gone. He's gone.”

Talen grabbed Argoth's arm and tried to haul him up. He looked back and saw the monster racing toward them with giant strides.

Talen stood and tried to haul Argoth up again, but there was no way they could outrun it, no way he could get to the Tailor and ride, even if the horse was fast enough.

”The monster's not done with us,” Uncle Argoth said.

The creature crashed through the brush behind them and suddenly stood not more than two paces away. Great hunks of dirt were missing here and there from its body, exposing bones of rock and some other substance. And yet the skin, if that's what you could call it, moved like hundreds of worms to cover the rents.

The thing snorted and shook its head, and then it reached out and took a step forward.

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