A tharuk broke from the forest, zigzagging past arrows and sword fighters. Standing in her stirrups, Ezaara shot at its head and missed. She loosed another arrow, hitting the beast in the chest.
“Nice kill,” Zaarusha purred. “Let’s get some more.”
A tharuk had a man cornered against a barn. Roberto released his arrow, shooting the monster through the back of the neck. Whipping another arrow from his quiver, he spun and shot another brute through the gut.
A desperate scream rang out. There, beneath her, a young girl was running away, a toddler on her hip. The girl tripped, regained her footing, and kept running. A tharuk pursued her across a meadow, grass trampled in its wake. Two more appeared from the trees.
Zaarusha swooped and blasted the rear tharuk with fire, incinerating him. “The next is yours.”
Heart pounding, Ezaara pulled back her bowstring and fired. Black blood sprayed from the beast’s chest. It collapsed to the ground. She whipped out another arrow and nocked it. More monsters were coming.
With a roar, Zaarusha sped toward a gangly tharuk. It glanced skyward, giving Ezaara the perfect shot. The arrow flew true, piercing the brute’s forehead.
The girl kept her head down, running. The littling on her hip screamed as the girl stumbled, then kept going. The monster chasing her mowed through the tall grass, intent on his prey.
Ezaara tried to line up a shot. It was impossible. She’d hit the girl. “Zaarusha, let’s try from the side. I can’t get a clear shot.”
The dragon queen swerved, changing her angle, but the tharuk changed his position too.
“It’s no use, Zaarusha,” Ezaara cried. “I’ll hit the girl or the babe.”
The monster leaped, tackling the girl and slamming her to the ground. Her scream rang out above the sound of the distant battle.
“Zaarusha, let me down. Now.” Ezaara unfastened her waist harness and pulled her feet out of the stirrups. “I’m not having the lives of littlings on my conscience.”
Zaarusha swooped low. Ezaara swung her legs over one side of the saddle and eased herself down. A meter or two above the ground, she let go and dropped to the earth. Rolling to stand, she unsheathed her sword and ran at the monster.
The beast was holding the girl up by the neck, crushing her throat. Her fingers scrabbled at his furry hands. She was gasping for breath. The toddler ran at the beast, beating at its leg. The tharuk kicked it, and the littling went flying into a tree trunk, then dropped to the ground, motionless.
Ezaara’s pulse sped. Racing up behind the monster, she plunged her sword through its back. The tharuk dropped the girl, swinging its arms wildly. Her arms aching from the impact, Ezaara ducked to avoid its savage claws. She held tight, pushing the sword with her full body weight. The beast groaned, dropping to its knees, black blood pumping onto the grass.
A roar split the air in the meadow. Ezaara yanked her sword out of the beast and turned.
Brilliant blue, Erob blew a gust of flame over three tharuks until they were smoking heaps of debris.
“Send the girl to me,” Zaarusha melded. There she was, near a grove of trees.
The girl was kneeling by the littling, weeping and stroking its hair. More tharuks were pounding toward them.
Ezaara ran to the girl, shaking her arm. The littling was a boy. A wee boy, unconscious but breathing. “Quick, take the boy and go.” She pointed to Zaarusha. “Flee.”
The girl scooped the littling to her chest and ran.
“Ezaara, behind you.”
Ezaara spun. A tharuk as wide as three men swiped at her with its claws. She ducked. Sliding forward on one knee, she drove her sword up into its belly. The beast’s agonized roar nearly split her head in two, before it crumpled, knocking her flat. Sharp pain ran up her sword arm. She was trapped under its shoulder, its matted fur mashed into her face. The tharuk jerked. Her body twitched in response. She gagged on its stench.
“Ezaara,” Roberto bellowed. “Incoming tharuks.”
Pushing up, she tried to force the dead beast off her. Its enormous torso pinned her legs, preventing her from rolling. She was wet with its blood. The pommel of the sword, still lodged in its gut, was digging into her side and her hand was throbbing.
The ground thudded with footfalls. Something was getting closer. Ezaara frantically shoved and grunted, but she was trapped.
There were roars, grunts and cries, the wet thump of bodies hitting the ground.
“Ezaara!” It was Roberto. On his knees, he lifted up the tharuk’s hip. “Dragon’s eggs, this thing is heavy.”
It gave her enough space to force one knee and her arms up. Together, they pushed. As the tharuk’s weight slid off her, fresh air rushed back into her chest, making her gasp.
“Are you all right?” His face was tight with concern.
“Look out,” she gasped. A tharuk was charging him. She scrambled to her feet.
He spun to fight the beast. Easily two heads taller than Roberto, its claws shredded his cloak as he danced out of reach.
“I’ve got the girl and littling,” Zaarusha melded, now airborne above them. “I’m taking them back to the healing post.”
Erob swept above the far side of the meadow, blasting any tharuks who dared approach.
Gripping the pommel of her sword with two hands, Ezaara placed her foot on the dead beast’s gut and yanked. With a squelching suck, the sword slid free and she stumbled backward. Regaining her footing, she faced the monster attacking Roberto. After this one, there were two
