the albino soldier, who staggered now, dropping his sword, both fists beating down at Skanda who eased inside Jekkron by just a few inches, and with a terrible force of magick, ripped Jekkron's skin and muscle from his chest, belly and thighs. Skanda landed, carrying the skin and muscle like a thick white cloak, and Jekkron hit the ground unconscious, seconds from death. His blood flushed out as if from an overturned cauldron.
In the sudden confusion, only Lilliath saw what happened, the rest of the soldiers simply witnessed their leader going crazy and slapping at himself; Lilliath capered to one side, over a pile of rubble, to see a donkey staring at her. Lilliath stopped, crazy hair wavering, and Mary the donkey turned slowly around, and with a vicious bray, planted both hooves in the shamathe's face, sending her tumbling back over the pile of collapsed bricks.
As Jekkron, conscious again and gasping like a fish, struggled to rise with his lack of albino flesh, so Kell grunted and hauled himself to his feet. Skanda stood before him, staring at the gathered soldiers with a face less than human, his black teeth glinting with Jekkron's white blood, and hands lifted up and held like comedy claws. Except the joke was no longer funny.
Skanda fell on the dying soldier, and ripped out his throat with his teeth, and used claws to slice down Jekkron's ribs and pull free internal organs, which he held up for the soldiers to see. Then Skanda bounded forward, and in a sudden wave of fear the albino soldiers scattered, as Skanda screeched and screamed after them, and suddenly Kell and Saark were left alone.
Kell limped to Saark, who was just regaining consciousness. Blood leaked from his ears, making his long, dark curls glossy. Both men stood, and leaned on one another weakly, and Saark gazed down at the terribly savaged, torn-apart body of Jekkron. His eyes fastened on glinting pools of milk blood, nestling in hollows and peppered with drifting brick dust.
"Did you do that to him?" coughed Saark.
"It was the boy."
"Skanda? No! No way could a small child…"
"He is not a small child," said Kell, and with a grunt heaved himself upright and gazed across to the unconscious body of the shamathe. Her face was black and purple. "Your mule has a fine aim."
"Mary did that? Great! And by the way, she's a donkey, not a mule."
"Same difference," muttered Kell. "Come on, we need horses. We need to put leagues between us and them."
"What about Skanda?"
"I have a feeling," said Kell, voice hard, unforgiving, "that the boy can look after himself."
Kell lifted Ilanna, and gazed down at Lilliath. He hefted the axe high, and suddenly Saark was there, hands held up. "Whoa, Big Man, what are you doing?"
Kell scowled. "She tried to kill us, Saark. You surely don't want her following? Doing that to us in our sleep ?"
"You can't kill her, Kell. She's an old woman. She's unconscious! For the love of the gods!"
"She's a white magicker, and she deserves to die."
Saark planted himself between Kell and the unconscious shamathe. "No. I won't let you! It is immoral. If you kill her, Kell, then you are as bad as the enemy; can't you see?"
Kell gave a great and weary sigh. "Very well," he said, eyes narrowed, face pale from dust. "But if she comes near us again, you can sort the bitch out. Let's find some horses."
They moved around the exterior of the deserted armoury, Saark leading Mary by her halter, and indeed found horses tethered. Distant screams echoed through the forest. Whatever Skanda was doing to the albino soldiers, he was keeping them occupied – and their minds far away from their mounts.
There were six beasts tethered here, all seventeenhand geldings, and Kell and Saark raided saddlebags for provisions and coin, then picked the most powerful looking horses. Saark tied Mary's
In the sudden confusion, only Lilliath saw what happened, the rest of the soldiers simply witnessed their leader going crazy and slapping at himself; Lilliath capered to one side, over a pile of rubble, to see a donkey staring at her. Lilliath stopped, crazy hair wavering, and Mary the donkey turned slowly around, and with a vicious bray, planted both hooves in the shamathe's face, sending her tumbling back over the pile of collapsed bricks.
As Jekkron, conscious again and gasping like a fish, struggled to rise with his lack of albino flesh, so Kell grunted and hauled himself to his feet. Skanda stood before him, staring at the gathered soldiers with a face less than human, his black teeth glinting with Jekkron's white blood, and hands lifted up and held like comedy claws. Except the joke was no longer funny.
Skanda fell on the dying soldier, and ripped out his throat with his teeth, and used claws to slice down Jekkron's ribs and pull free internal organs, which he held up for the soldiers to see. Then Skanda bounded forward, and in a sudden wave of fear the albino soldiers scattered, as Skanda screeched and screamed after them, and suddenly Kell and Saark were left alone.
Kell limped to Saark, who was just regaining consciousness. Blood leaked from his ears, making his long, dark curls glossy. Both men stood, and leaned on one another weakly, and Saark gazed down at the terribly savaged, torn-apart body of Jekkron. His eyes fastened on glinting pools of milk blood, nestling in hollows and peppered with drifting brick dust.
"Did you do that to him?" coughed Saark.
"It was the boy."
"Skanda? No! No way could a small child…"
"He is not a small child," said Kell, and with a grunt heaved himself upright and gazed across to the unconscious body of the shamathe. Her face was black and purple. "Your mule has a fine aim."
"Mary did that? Great! And by the way, she's a donkey, not a mule."
"Same difference," muttered Kell. "Come on, we need horses. We need to put leagues between us and them."
"What about Skanda?"
"I have a feeling," said Kell, voice hard, unforgiving, "that the boy can look after himself."
Kell lifted Ilanna, and gazed down at Lilliath. He hefted the axe high, and suddenly Saark was there, hands held up. "Whoa, Big Man, what are you doing?"
Kell scowled. "She tried to kill us, Saark. You surely don't want her following? Doing that to us in our sleep ?"
"You can't kill her, Kell. She's an old woman. She's unconscious! For the love of the gods!"
"She's a white magicker, and she deserves to die."
Saark planted himself between Kell and the unconscious shamathe. "No. I won't let you! It is immoral. If you kill her, Kell, then you are as bad as the enemy; can't you see?"
Kell gave a great and weary sigh. "Very well," he said, eyes narrowed, face pale from dust. "But if she comes near us again, you can sort the bitch out. Let's find some horses."
They moved around the exterior of the deserted armoury, Saark leading Mary by her halter, and indeed found horses tethered. Distant screams echoed through the forest. Whatever Skanda was doing to the albino soldiers, he was keeping them occupied – and their minds far away from their mounts.
There were six beasts tethered here, all seventeenhand geldings, and Kell and Saark raided saddlebags for provisions and coin, then picked the most powerful looking horses. Saark tied Mary's
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