Almost there.
She lost her grip and went flying for all ofa second before she came to a sickening stop, her knee on fire.
Somehow. Miraculously. She hadn’t lost herseat, her leg having gotten stuck.
She grabbed the sword with both hands andheaved, leaning backwards and pushing away with her legs. It camefree with a lurch, nearly toppling her backwards.
Free now, she hacked at the neck under herwith frenzied slices, her hands slipping as black blood coated thesword, her hands, her clothes.
Still, she didn’t stop. Not even when thecreature was lying still. She just kept hacking.
“Daisy. It’s dead. Kid, stop. It’s dead. Howlong do you intend to keep working at it?” Eamon inquired fromsomewhere below her.
Dazed, she looked up and then around, onlynow realizing she was still seated on the shadow beetle, and itwasn’t moving.
“Not that we don’t appreciate the save, mindyou, but hacking away like that has to take energy that might bebetter spent elsewhere.”
She blinked at him and then blinked at theslivers of white and black flesh where the beetle’s head used tobe. She lowered her sword and backed away, having a brief moment ofpanic when her leg wouldn’t come loose. Buck came forward andhelped her twist it free.
She crawled off the beetle and dropped to theground.
The good solid ground that wouldn’t flailbeneath her or send her crashing into one of the cliffs.
She sat down abruptly, her legs not wantingto support her now that what she’d done registered. Her hands shookas she placed the sword on the ground before her. She could havedied. Probably should have.
That stunt with the rope gave her chills nowthat she thought about it. If she’d let go even a second earlier orlater, she would have plummeted a lot farther than she had andprobably been trampled or torn in half by the beetle.
A pair of boots stopped before her. Shealooked up to see Eamon staring down at her with his hands on hiships, an intense look on his face.
Buck was behind him staring up at the beetlein amazement.
“How did you know to attack it there?” Eamonasked. “Swords didn’t work on it when we tried. They just bouncedoff. So did our arrows.”
“You ever encounter a golden eagle?” Sheaasked, knowing the answer. Of course they had. Everybody had. Itwas the reason they had chosen to take the canyon riddled withbeasts over the plains above them. The golden eagles were similarto their smaller brethren except in color and size. The ones Sheawere talking about were roughly the size of houses and could carrya horse off if they were hungry enough.
Eamon arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, so?”
Shea wet her lips and nearly groaned inrelief when Buck tossed her a water bag. Evidently killing beastsmade you thirsty as hell.
She felt a moment of sorrow. She normallytried to avoid killing beasts; they were just doing what they wereborn to do. Hunt, eat, procreate. They couldn’t help theirinstincts and blaming them was like blaming a snowstorm for beingcold.
Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable. Whenit came down to her or them, she’d choose herself.
She took a long swallow of the water, herthroat working. A trickle streamed from her mouth in her haste, andshe wiped at it with one wrist.
Ah. That hit the spot.
Looking up, she blinked when Eamon looked ather expectantly. “Few years back, I was doing some hunting and gotpinned down by one of the Shadows. Thought I was done for when aneagle came plunging out of the sky and just killed it with one blowto the back of its neck before carrying it off.” Shea rubbed at theblack stains on her hands. “You see, the shadow beetle’s shell isthick and impervious to most weapons, or beast claws for thatmatter, but there is one spot on its body that is entirelyvulnerable.”
“Its neck,” Eamon guessed.
Shea nodded. “Its neck. Most of its predatorscome from the ground so its shell evolved to protect them fromthose attacks, but for whatever reason, it never developed aprotection for its neck.”
“How’d you get on top of it?” Buck asked. Hewas now standing right next to the beetle, and as he spoke reachedup to run one hand along its carapace.
Shea turned and pointed at the rope danglingfrom the cliff.
Buck whistled low and shook his head. “Thattakes balls.”
