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.In the center of it, the stream flowed out of a small and apparently shallow pool.There was no sign of the creature that had shredded Rekatra.Shanair left her horse at the edge of the clearing and crept cautiously nearer.She circled the stream’s mouth, peering keenly at the moss-covered ground.“Bring me a stout stick,” she ordered.Xibryl complied at once, dragging a six-foot length of deadfall wood over and hacking off the side limbs with a hand axe.Shanair took the rough staff and jabbed tentatively at the water.Try as she might, she could not find the spring’s source.The bed beneath was solid ground.“Impossible,” she muttered.Raising the stick high overhead, she plunged it hard into the water.The staff dived so deep and so easily that Shanair nearly lost her footing.She leaped back, staring in amazement at the two-foot length of wood in her hands.An enormous green hand shot out of the spring and fisted over the empty air where Shanair had just been standing.The hand was the size of a small battle shield.Webbing connected the four fingers, each of which was as long as her forearm and tipped with talons as barbed as fishhooks.As suddenly as it came, the hand disappeared, slapping back into the incomprehensible spring.Shanair quickly conquered her surprise and drew her swords.Steel hissed free of Whizzra’s baldric.The creak of whirling chain announced the lethal dance of Xibryl’s spiked flail.The three Crinti moved quickly, silently into triangle formation around the spring.Suddenly the clearing seemed to explode.The monster leaped out of the water like a geyser, and its voice was the roar of a waterfall.The massive creature was twice Shanair’s height.Roughly humanoid in shape, it crouched on two froglike legs.Four arms, thickly muscled and armored with dull green scales, lifted into a wrestler’s ready stance.The creature’s head was enormous, crested with a barbed standing fin and nearly split in two by a fanged mouth.Dagger-sized teeth clacked with anticipation.The Crinti warriors eyed their foe, sizing up its potential strengths and weaknesses.“Sahuagin?” guessed Xibryl.“Worse,” Shanair said with a fierce smile.This monster, she suspected, was no creature known to this world.Battle lust burned wild and hot in the Crinti chieftain as she began an ancient death-dance.The others moved with her, dodging from side to side, dipping tauntingly forward, then leaping back.There was magic in their movements, a lure as potent as siren song.The Crinti did not weaken their enemies.They enticed them.The creature came on with a rush, taking a mighty swing at the nearest Crinti.Whizzra nimbly dropped and rolled away, and Shanair dived in before the beast could recover its balance.Her left-hand sword thrust hard at the juncture of arm and chest-and slid harmlessly off the scaly armor.Shanair ducked as another massive arm whistled over her head.In a lightning-flash decision, she measured the power of that swing and decided she could not absorb the impact.She relaxed her grip on her sword and allowed the blow to send it flying.She barked out a one-word command, naming a much-practiced battle maneuver.The other Crinti moved out wide on either side of the creature, their weapons flashing as they kept all four of the monster’s arms engaged.In came Shanair, ducking under the flailing arms.She gripped her sword with both hands, and launched herself into a powerful upward lunge.Her scale mail hissed against the massive green torso as she rose.Her blade dived into the lizardlike folds under the creature’s chin.It grated against tooth and jaw, slammed hard into the bony palate that roofed the massive mouth.The creature’s shriek was liquid with blood, but Shanair instinctively knew she had not struck a killing blow.Xibryl’s axe slashed in, knocking aside the taloned hand pawing at the imbedded weapon.Shanair let go of her blade to avoid the sweeping axe, whipped her head to one side so that she was not blinded by the shower of sparks as steel hit steel, then seized the hilt again.She leaped up, planted both feet on the creature’s chest, and pushed herself off as she tugged the sword free.The Crinti dropped into a backward roll and came up on her feet.She backed away and whistled for her horse.The battle-trained steed trotted up, seemingly oblivious to the monster and its frenzied attempts to fight free of its tormenters.Shanair untied a bundle of javelins and thrust them point-down into the mossy ground.She snatched up one, took aim, and let fly.The weapon streaked toward the creature, tearing through one of Xibryl’s flying gray tresses.Trailing a wavy strand of hair like a banner, it dived into one of the creature’s black eyes.Shanair’s yell of triumph came to an abrupt stop as her javelin bounced back and fell free.Her aim was true, yet the spear did not pierce the skull!Still, the creature was half blinded.Shanair threw another javelin and completed the task.The monster fought on, its swings and parries as accurate as before.The Crinti woman’s keen ears caught the faint clicking sound that hummed through the air like distant cicada song.Under water, the sound probably carried for leagues.Shanair figured that the creature’s sound-sight, even in air, was probably as keen as a bat’s.Shanair smacked her mare’s flank and sent her running.The other horses fell into pace behind their leader.The trio thundered in tight circles around the clearing, leaping over the stream again and again.The echoing hoof beats blended into a reverberating rumble, like the war drums of jungle elves.Even Shanair’s battle shriek was swallowed by the sound as she closed in on the confused and wounded beast.Now truly blinded, the creature tried to bolt, but it could not even hear the spring and took a fatal pace in the wrong direction.The Crinti warriors closed ranks.They worked their quarry for a long time, and not just for the joy of a slow kill.They played the creature until it was exhausted, then tried prying up several scales, inquiring with sharp, deep jabs as they studied which wounds bled, which ones brought the sharpest pain, and finally, which killed.If this were not the only creature of its kind, such information could decide the next battle.Finally the Crinti stood over their kill, drenched with exertion and blood, not all of it the monster’s.All three wore fierce, sated smiles.“Take the trophy,” commanded Shanair.Her warriors set to work, wresting off the head and stripping it clean of flesh and hide.Shanair broke off several dagger-shaped teeth and gave them to her warriors.The skull was too awkward for one horse to carry, so they fixed a cloak between two mounts like a sling.That accomplished, they mounted and set off to rejoin their comrades.“A good kill,” Whizzra observed.Her words were correct, but her tone held hesitation as well as satisfaction [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]