Denton stopped at the edge of the woods, not knowing what to do or if he’d do anything at all. Everything seemed to be happening so slowly. The skalkit’s nuzzling loosened the boy and he fell, slumping forward. He was delicately caught and lifted in the skalkit’s open mouth. Eyanna, close to the skalkit now and still unseen by the monster, darted forward and grabbed one of the boy’s arms.
Man. She was a freaking lunatic.
The skalkit saw Eyanna then, all right. It roared lustfully with a full mouth. Eyanna pulled the boy’s arm. The skalkit moved its head back. In a minute the two of them were engaged in a full-out tug-of-war. The skalkit could have just closed its jaws and crushed the boy, but it apparently didn’t want to, because it held him just enough to keep Eyanna from taking him away.
The unusual sounds attracted the attention of the second skalkit, who looked up and let out a bellow that was so loud and so enraged that it made every hair on Denton’s head stand to attention. But Eyanna didn’t seem to hear. She was still playing push-me-pull-me with the boy, and now she was yelling and kicking at the skalkit’s front legs. She did not see the other skalkit coming. It blindsided her, snatching her right off the ground with a whip of its head.
The skalkit had her left arm and shoulder and upper chest in its mouth, and it was not being delicate. Her legs kicked and jerked. She pounded at the skalkit’s nose with her fists.
And that was it. Denton found himself plowing out of the trees. He was running across the clearing with his spear raised in one hand and from his mouth came a scream that was only slightly lower in decibel than the skalkit’s. He screamed from somewhere deep inside him and it sounded… by god, it sounded pissed.
For a moment, as he closed the distance between them, he was both in his body and observing himself, stupefied, from someplace high above. Then he reached Eyanna and the skalkit and the spear was in his hand so he thrust its as hard as he could into the beast’s side. The knife went in, deep. Denton was amazed. He had actually pierced the thing and hurt it. It let out a bellow of pain. He grabbed the spear and pulled. He was afraid the knife would be lost in the skalkit’s thick hide but it came out, still secured to the branch. The skalkit snarled and dropped Eyanna. It reared back, its front legs coming off the ground, and Denton saw the white flesh of its belly. He thrust the spear again, aiming for the heart.
The skalkit’s cry became deeper, more enraged, but it did not fall over or give up. No, it was still very much alive and more dangerous than ever. Gripped only by blind necessity now—kill or be killed—Denton pushed down on the handle of the spear, fishing around inside the skalkit, looking for the heart. It was hard. The skalkit thrashed. The handle of the spear cracked.
Then something struck him a massive blow from behind. He flew, like a pebble being tossed, and struck the ground. It almost knocked the breath out of him. He gasped and rolled over. Above him the second skalkit had discarded the boy and now fully, enthusiastically focused on ripping him to shreds. It waved its clawed feet at him, letting out a growling yelp of lust and greed and rage.
Denton lay there, looking up at the hideous, deadly thing. And he laughed.
Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. He had no idea where it came from. It was not a feeling Denton Wyle had ever had before. But suddently he felt freaking great. He was not afraid. Even with that thing hovering over him, he was not afraid. For the first time in his life he felt free and powerful and so brilliantly, wonderfully pleased with himself.
He, Denton Wyle, was fighting two enormous skalkit. And he loved it.
“Denton!” Eyanna yelled.
He rolled out of the way just as the skalkit’s front legs came crashing down to crush him. He bounced to his feet, grabbing the knife from his belt.
Ten feet away, he could see Eyanna looking at him with triumph. She was holding on to the end of the spear. It was still embedded in the skalkit and she had managed to find the heart. Blood was spurting from the wound in huge, splattering bursts and the skalkit was dying, its eyes half-closed in agony, its jaws frothing blood.
The skalkit that was attacking him bellowed and charged. Denton was not afraid, but he was a little disconcerted by its speed. He dodged away, but he was not fast enough and the thing got ahold of his left arm. The teeth burrowed into his flesh and it hurt, but mostly he was just annoyed that it had gotten him. He brought up the knife in his right hand and plunged it again and again into the skalkit’s head.
Most of the blows glanced off the thick skull and teeth. But the skin was cut and ran blood, and the skalkit was surprised by the resistance. It yelped and almost let go. Then it seemed to remember that it was big and Denton very small, and it dug into his arm again with grinding intensity.
It freaking hurt. He was eye to eye with the thing and its huge head was ugly and smelly and meaty. A wicked eye glared at him, blindly, cold as the bowels of space, grinding, applying pressure deliberately, about to break his arm.
Denton screamed, full on, leaning into the skalkit’s face. Then he plunged the knife into the creature’s eye, not once, but over and over, even as the thing let go, howling in pain, even as it tried to get away.
He grabbed onto its neck with his bitten and bleeding arm as it raised its head, unwilling to let it escape. It lifted his feet off the ground and still he hung on. Still he plunged the knife into the bloody, gaping eye socket.
The skalkit shook its head, hard, trying to shake him loose. He clung tighter. The other eye was rolling and he went for that one, too, taking it out with one hard thrust.
And then the thing whipped him loose.
He landed on the ground again with bruising force. His bitten arm sent shock waves of pain up his shoulder, but he pushed it aside. Nothing was seriously injured. He could still use the arm and he would.
The skalkit was staggering around the clearing, both eyes out, blood streaming down. It was letting out blood-curdling sounds and, not far away, the Sapphians had to be hearing it. Denton was glad. He stood up, the adrenaline pumping through him. Eyanna came to him and hugged him. He could see on her face that something had changed for her, too. She pulled on his arm, wanting to go to the boy, ready to leave.
But he was not ready to let go of it yet. This was the finest moment of his life, damn it, and he would ride it to the end.
“One minute, Eyanna.”
He picked up his knife from where it had fallen when he’d been thrown and headed for the blinded skalkit.
The boy revived and, beyond cuts and bruises and a bit of trauma, was basically all right. They left him at the clearing to wait for them, and Denton and Eyanna walked into the gorge. Denton carried a heavy load from his good hand.
They saw several Sapphians through the trees as they approached. They quickly disappeared again, faces aghast. But by the time Denton and Eyanna reached the main circle, word had spread and the entire village was huddled there in a tight, silent mass.
Denton and Eyanna stepped into the clearing. They crossed to the central fire. The Sapphians, their eyes huge, backed away.
Denton cast the head of the skalkit in front of the bonfire. He was still covered with blood, as Eyanna was. He wanted them to see it.