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Something sharp hits my side. The pain is instant. Though the bijass shields me from the full sensation, it does cause me to pull back.
The other creature has stabbed me in the side with a sword. It has black tentacle looking things for hair that dance as it opens its maw and screeches. It has orange, leathery skin and beady dark eyes that widen when I grab the blade sticking out of my right side.
I get my hand onto his and jerk the blade free. I roar as it slides free. I ball my free hand into a fist and punch the monster in the face with all the strength I have. The front of its face caves in and the thing drops to the ground.
As I turn to finish the other one a fist slams into the side of my head. I stumble back, momentarily stunned and unable to see clearly. The thing stalks forward speaking in the same guttural language I heard earlier.
It slams two of its six fists into the opposite arm’s open hands, rolls its shoulders, and stalks me. I move back, gaining space. We circle each other, looking for an opening. I growl in anger and frustration. This is taking too long. I do not know if my treasure is safe or if there are more of these monsters outside.
Knowing I do not have time I don’t wait. I rush the monster. I take several hits as I come in including one that lands right on top of the wound I just took.
Stars flash in my head and I cannot see but I feel him in my arms. We wrestle, struggling to gain control of one or the other.
It strikes with jarring force over and over. One hit to the side of my head and I drop to my knees, head spinning. I look up into its tattooed blue face. It has dead eyes. No soul in them, not even anger or any other visible emotion.
Something about that emptiness fuels my rage. This monster will not best me. Margaret waits for me. I will save her.
I’ve got one hand on the floor, supporting myself. I ball it into a fist and swing it with all that I have. My fist comes up, hitting just under the things wide, nasty grin. The jaw shatters. Blood flows from its mouth and nose, splatters of it flinging through the air as it falls back. It stumbles, arms flailing, then it drops to the ground with a final shudder.
Forcing myself to my feet I stumble over and make sure that it is well and truly dead. I kick it and nothing.
Satisfied I raise my head and roar in triumph. Surveying my victory the bijass retreats and as it goes the pain comes in its wake. I stumble, pressing one hand to my side. When I raise that hand blood coats it. I keep pressure on it and then turn to find the human.
The poor female is huddled in a corner, arms over her head, shivering in fear. I approach, slowly, trying to not scare her further.
“Come, help,” I say in the human tongue. She whimpers, not bothering to look out from behind her arms. “Come.”
I repeat, motioning for her to follow. She peeks out from behind her shield of flesh, eyes uncertain. She darts a glance at her former captors. Suddenly her eyes widen and she snarls. She leaps to her feet, rushing over to the bigger one and she kicks him while wildly screaming the entire time.
I let her take her rage out though the world is getting a little gray. She needs this. I will get her outside where Margaret will be able to take care of her. I need stitches, badly, and am not going to be able to remain conscious much longer if I keep losing blood.
“Come,” I say again. “Now, come.”
She turns and looks from me to the dead alien on the floor. She spits on it then turns and comes over towards me. I take a tentative step backward and she follows. I back out of the door then turn around to walk back out.
The world tilts and I have to grab the wall to remain upright. The female whimpers from behind. I glance over my shoulder and give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. The fear on her face is so clearly written that a blind person could see it. While I am concerned for this human, my worry for Margaret overrides that.
“Follow,” I say.
I make my way back out of the ship and as I emerge into the bright suns of Tajss, their warmth on my scales helps to push away the encroaching darkness. Margaret is where I left her, astride the guster, waiting.
The sand outside the opening is soft and I sink in. I try to walk forward, wanting to run to her, but I stumble and then the world is black.
13
MARGARET
Islam my heels against the guster and it leaps forward, throwing me back with the sudden force. I don’t care. Mohlad dropped right after he emerged. I must get to him.
The terrain blurs as I race forward. As the distance between us closes another figure emerges from the tear in the ship. I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth. Whoever or whatever that is, if they’re responsible for hurting Mohlad, I will kill them.
In a move that would make him proud, I slip my feet free of the stirrups and leap to the ground. I hit harder than I expect and drop into a crouch as my poor knees try to absorb the impact.
I rush to his side slipping in the sand and sliding to a stop. He collapsed onto his face. I grab on and try to roll him over but damn he’s heavy. A small pool of blood forms on the opposite side. Seeing that my heart races faster and I suppress a sob.
“Roll over damn it,” I yell, straining with all I’ve got.
“He’s hurt,” a voice says in Common, startling me.
