At the last second, I drop, sliding on the slick rock, anddrivethe sharp stone with all my weight into its left knee.
A high-pitched, wetshriekof pure pain. The sound of bone and cartilage crunching.
Got it!
The Wudwose howls, its leg buckling. It drops its club with a clatter, both hands flying to its ruined knee. It is open. It is vulnerable.
I lunge, the human sword ready in my good hand, aiming for its throat, for its eyes?—
THWACK.
The beast, even in agony, is fast. Its massive, free hand swings in a wide, desperate arc, catching me across the chest. It is not a punch; it is a slap, but it feels like being hit by a log. I am thrown backward, my head smashing against the cliff face. My vision swims, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. I slide down the wall, my sword clattering from my numb hand.
I am dazed, the world a ringing, gray blur. Then I hear the sound of Aurorascreaming.
It is not a scream of fear. It is a raw, guttural shriek of pure, unadulteratedrage.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
No! Aurora, stay back! Run!
I try to stand, but my legs will not obey. I am helpless. The Wudwose, ignoring its bleeding knee, limps toward the sound of her voice. It sees her, a small, defiant shape with a dagger, standing in the open. Itchuckles, a wet, gurgling sound, and raises its massive hand to grab her.
I am too far. I am going to watch her die.
She does not run.
Sheducksunder its clumsy, one-legged lunge andjamsher dagger, with both hands, deep into the back of itsgoodleg, severing the tendon.
Her training. She remembered her training.The knee.
The beast roars, a sound of shock and betrayal, and its other leg gives out. It crashes to the ground, falling, and she scrambles away, crab-walking backward, her eyes wide but her teeth bared.
She... she fought. She is Iron Tusk.
The beast is on the ground, roaring, trying to get up, a nine-foot monster reduced to a crippled, crawling thing. I am on my feet. I grab the human sword. This time, I know where to strike.
I stalk forward, ignoring its pathetic, swiping claws. I drive the sworddown, through the matted hair, into the soft, unprotected back of its neck, severing its spine.
It shudders. And is still.
24
AURORA
The silence is deafening.
It rushes in to fill the space the Wudwose’s roar left behind, a heavy, crushing void. The only sound heard is the constant, thunderousroarof the waterfall and Othic, gasping for air. He is leaning against the wet cliff wall, his massive chest heaving, the slaver's sword still hanging from his grip.
Thesmellis overwhelming, a physical thing that makes me want to gag. The creature's black, foul blood has coated the slick rocks in a thick, coppery, oily film. It coats my dagger. It coats my hands.
My heart is hammering so hard I feel it in my throat. I look at the massive, still body of the beast, its spine severed by Othic’s blade. Then I look at my own dagger, slick with the same black blood from where I drove it into the creature's leg.
I did that. I stabbed it. I did not run.
The thought is a shock, a jolt of cold water. I almost got us killed. But… I did not. I saved him. We saved each other.
The adrenaline drains from my body all at once, leaving my knees so weak I can barely stand. I am shaking, a fine, uncontrollable tremor that starts in my hands and spreads. Iscramble to my feet, my boots slipping on the bloody moss, and run to Othic.
