“Not likely,” Navarra answered softly back, and though he scored a hit, he knew he had been fortunate to avoid the blow moments before.
“You bleed,” the man commented and gestured to the side of Navarra’s head. “Just like any other man.”
Navarra took a moment to run the back of his hand by his right ear, and was surprised to see a good deal of blood come with it. He shrugged.
“So do you,” he answered, looking at the shoulder wound then the wound on the man’s thigh, which was deep and bleeding freely. The man grunted and with a fair amount of grace plunged into an attack once more.
Navarra backpedaled, waiting; though his anger at being kept from the girl was beginning to mount. Behind them, the sounds of growls, bites and cries permeated the camp. Soon that fight would be over, but for now he had to deal with the axe man on his own. Navarra knew as long as he kept his focus and forced the man before him to either defend or attack, he would eventually win this fight. His opponent, though strong, would in time run out of the strength needed to swing the heavy axe so nimbly and when that happened, he would die. Navarra could see these thoughts moving through the eyes of the man before him as blow after blow either missed or were deflected from their mark, and as he began to panic Navarra began to nick and cut him whenever an opening presented itself.
Finally, after much longer than the Executioner would have thought possible, the man’s strength was beginning to truly ebb, but still the man fought on with courage and skill. Navarra cared for none of that however, and began to hate the man for keeping him from the Fultan girl. He had to force himself to relax. She would not escape this time, for there was nowhere for her to go.
The sounds of battle behind them were completely gone, though it took a moment for the two combatants to become aware of it. Navarra, now on the attack, kept the man from looking about, then with only the slightest signals, Vesania and Furia began to growl and bark from directly behind the axe man. The sudden threat caused him to begin to turn, but he never completed it. In a blink, his heart was skewered by Navarra’s left kali. The man sagged immediately with only the briefest moment to realize he was dead.
Navarra paused a moment to look down at the dead man. He was a mighty opponent, skilled and strong. Navarra spit on the dead man’s face, then raised his boot and with all his strength brought in down, crushing his nose. Only then did he look up, and with a slight nod he signaled his dogs to continue the chase, and they tore after the fleeing girl.
Samantha ran in pure panic, not thinking of where she was going until she met Otter running toward the camp. She did not stop, did not say anything, and just ran past him until suddenly without knowing how or why, she was at the very edge of the Scar. She skidded to a stop, her toes just inches from the edge. She glanced down, then quickly behind her, then down once more, thinking she may be able to climb. The Scar
was high and steep, and as she looked over the edge at the swirling water a hundred feet below she realized that even if she had the time, climbing was not an option.
The sounds of attacking dogs could be heard in the distance, but it was the sound of hurried footsteps close behind that caused her to turn from her inspection of the cliffs. But it was only Otter racing back to her side.
“How many?” He asked; her obvious fear made the question of whom irrelevant.
“One,” she answered and pushed by him moving down the Scar looking for a possible way to descend. The sound of dogs increased. “And some dogs,” she added, panic and fear causing her hands to shake violently, and tears to come to her eyes.
“The Ex…Executioner,” she stammered, moving past him the other way. Otter turned to the camp, but was caught up in her panic as she moved back past him again searching the other way. Suddenly the sounds of the dogs ceased, but not with any telltale yelp signaling an animal’s injury or death. Samantha stopped and turned to stare at Otter. The old man stared back at a complete loss as to what to do.
“Ah…ah,” Samantha croaked, but the sound did not adequately verbalize her terror, but for the first time moved away from the Scar. She pulled her bow off her shoulder, moved farther into the dense brush. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, while dropping several others, which came out with the one in her hand. They fell forgotten to the forest floor, as she knelt and with shaky hands tried to notch an arrow. It took her three attempts to seat the string in the notch, and by that time the faint sounds of running dogs could be clearly heard. She sighted down the arrow and back up the trail to camp, and luckily for her, after only a few seconds, two large black dogs tore into view, running full out toward her. Perhaps if she had more time to aim, more time to think, more time for her fear to work on her she would have missed, but as it was she only had an instant and despite her shaking hands the arrow flew true and struck the second dog full in the chest. It let out a brief yelp and skidded in the dead leaves and twigs, which littered the ground.
Sam felt no satisfaction only fear as she fumbled around for another arrow, her search hampered by the fact that she kept her eyes on the dog charging toward her. Finding no arrow at first, however, she risked a glance down. She spotted one a bit to her left and she leaned over and placed a hand on it. She straightened back up and looked to see the dog just beginning to leap; instinctively she ducked down so her nose was inches away from the dirt and felt one paw of the beast graze her back. The dog caught the bow as he flew overhead and her right hand was jerked around behind her so hard she rolled onto her back. She heard a snap, but didn’t realize it was her bow breaking until she staggered back to her knees. Otter screamed as the dog leaped at his throat and caught a hold. The dog’s momentum carried the old man to the ground. The animal’s jaws clamped tighter to the man’s throat before wrenching his powerful head back and forth, back and forth, throwing Otter about on the very edge of the Scar, as if he weighed nothing. The dog finally pulled back and ripped out the throat of the now silent man.
Samantha stared at Otter in horror before the dog’s growling brought her back to the reality of the situation. She knew she was about to die. Her bow was broken and the dog would be on her before she could even pull her knife from her waist. She waited, as the growling dog approached, its hackles raised menacingly.
A low whistle sounded behind her and the dog went still. Sam turned to see the Executioner walking toward her, a slight smile on his face, and real fear flooded back into her. She turned and without another thought, rose and ran full tilt toward the dog. The dog flinched at first, surprised. Prey ran, never attacked. But when Samantha was close, the dog had recovered somewhat and reared up to meet her, but at the last moment she ducked, still running and hit the dog in the mid-section. Her feet continued to churn until to the surprise of the dog they were over the edge of the Scar and out into space.
Furia yelped in fear and twisted free of the girl who was now falling feet first, her skirts bellowing up over her head, mercifully hiding her view of the plummet. She hit the cold water much sooner that she expected and plunged deep, deep into the muddy river and then finally, her feet struck the bottom. The force of her fall caused her knees to buckle slightly and it took an instant for her to realize that she was not dead or even injured, then she pushed upward with all her might and a moment later broke the surface. She sputtered for several seconds then wiped the water from her eyes. The dog also survived the fall and was swimming very slowly toward the far bank. Something in its movements told Sam that it had injured a leg, perhaps more than one, for it was having a hard time making head way against the slow current. Instinctively Samantha looked up, half expecting the Executioner to come falling down after her, but he was still up there, high on the edge of the Scar, gazing down at her. Her heart thumped harder just looking up at him, but after a moment she realized that he was not going to jump. Seeing the drop from below, she could hardly believe she’d done such a thing. She glanced over at the struggling dog, then back up at the Executioner who continued to glare down at her, and then with quiet determination she swam up behind the beast. She fumbled for her knife, which was somehow still in its sheath, drew it and with all her might tried to plunged it into the back of the dog. Swimming in the water made the task more difficult than she expected and the knife sliced through the dog’s hindquarters. The black beast gave a half yelp, swallowed some water and began to splash harder for the bank. Sam settled herself; this time swimming a bit closer and struck. The knife ran deep into the back of the dog’s neck. This time the dog did not yelp, just jerked spasmodically, went under, then rose again before finally disappearing all together beneath the water.