— More maws, five or six of them, broad and round with piggish, wicked eyes; several keplian, horse-looking things with carnivores' teeth and three razory toes on each forefoot; other shapes less identifiable. The standard Fyrd varieties had been twisted further away from the animals they had anciently been. She forgot about specifics and dove away from the spring of one maw, took another one across the chest with a two-handed stroke and was knocked down by its momentum. Move, move, as long as you 're moving you 're safe! she remembered her old sword-instructor Shihan shouting at her.
Off to her left she heard Steelsheen scream in defiance and crash into a Fyrd, followed by the flat brittle sound of a skull being crushed by hooves. At the same time she got a pinwheeling glimpse of Khavrinen, Herewiss's sword, being jerked up after a downstroke. Then a half-seen form came at her low and sideways — she chopped at it, a poorly aimed blow that slid off hard smooth plates. Hissing, the nadder's gigantic serpent-head rose up before her, then struck; she danced desperately aside and chopped off the head at the neck.
Segnbora turned away and looked around. Khavrinen was striking downward again, and as it struck both Herewiss and the keplian he had killed moaned aloud. The Fire wavering about those parts of the blade not yet obscured illuminated Herewiss's face. Crying? Segnbora thought, surprised, but not too much so. Khavrinen was more of a symbol than a weapon. Herewiss was no killer— Steelsheen trampled another maw, and Moris nailed the
last one to the ground with a two-handed straight-down thrust. Finally everyone was standing still, panting, sagging, wiping blood out of their eyes.
"More coming!" Segnbora said, groaning aloud at the feel-ing of yet another of those hot, hating minds heading their way.
She looked northward. It was a hundred yards away, and it showed much more of itself above the grass than had the other Fyrd.
Segnbora's heart constricted in terror as she recognized it. She had never seen one of these, but if the stories of the creatures* endurance
— Pul a langsword into that little eye, and hope to hit the brain?
Segnbora thought, and didn't laugh at the idea. The deathjaw was close — shaggy-coated, brindled, the size of three Dar-thene lions. Shiny black talons gleamed on its great catlike paws. The deathjaw opened its mouth just a little, showing two of its three lines of fangs above and below. Then it began to run, its face wrinkling into a horrible mask.
Herewiss swung Khavrinen up vrith elbows locked and let it charge — his only option, for running was as hopeless as a slash-and-cut duel would be. The blade into the eye, she heard him thinking, and Fire down the blade, enough to blast the brain dead. He never used his plan. While still twenty feet away the deathjaw screamed horribly as fire suddenly bloomed about it, eating inward through flesh and muscle and sinew quick as a gasp. The still-moving skeleton burned incandescent for a moment more before the swirling flames blasted bone to powder, then ate that too. The deathjaw was gone before its death shrieks died.
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And Sunspark appeared — a brief bright coalescence like a meteor changing its mind in mide*plosion — and paced casu-ally over to the three. It was exuding a feeling of great pleas-ure, its mane and tail burning merrily as holiday bonfires. (You called for me?) it said to Herewiss, who was breathing hard now with delayed terror.
"I believe I did,"he said. Sunspark looked at Freelorn with an expression of good-natured wickedness and said nothing. "Thank you," Freelorn said, courteous enough; but there was a touch of grudge in his voice. Sunspark snorted. (Gratitude! Next time I'll choose my moment with more care … a little later.) "Choose the moment—!" (So that you'll appreciate me.) "You mean you watched those things attack us and you didn't—!"
"Lorn, enough," Herewiss said. "It doesn't think the way you do. Luckily for us. Loved," he said to the elemental, "did you notice any other wildlife in these parts while you were having breakfast?"