Nal continued, “As if he had not already done enough to earn our esteem, Fylo brought his animal-brother to us in a third the time that any convert has ever done it before!” The bawan gestured at the bear. “It only took him five days to convince this mighty beast to give up its head!”
Fylo did not miss the note of mockery in Nal’s voice, but the wild shrieks and whistles that accompanied the crowd’s cheer reassured him that all was well.
Nal gestured for Fylo to enter the enclosure. “Bring your bear inside, my friend.”
The proud smile faded from Fylo’s lips, and he could not tear his gaze away from the bear. He wondered why Agis was waiting so long to tell him the secret that would make Nal happy. The thought crossed his mind that his friend had betrayed him; maybe there was no secret.
“You give Fylo bear’s head now?” he asked, already dreading the moment when the bawan found Agis and the others inside the beast.
“We should wait for dawn,” Nal said. “But foolish Mag’r thinks he’s sneaking up on us. The Joorsh army will arrive before dawn, so we’ll have to do this tonight.”
Fylo’s jaw fell open in astonishment. “The Joorsh?” he gasped. “Here?”
Nal nodded. “It’s taken a long time for them to get up the nerve to attack, but our losses to the Balican fleet finally gave them the courage,” said the bawan. He fluffed the feathers beneath his beak, then eyed Fylo thoughtfully. “Strange how that worked, isn’t it?”
The giant furrowed his brow. “How what work?”
“Sachem Mag’r and I had an agreement. If the Balicans interfered in our war, we were to suspend our fight and attack Balic.” Nal reached behind the enclosure wall and grabbed an axe. It had an obsidian blade as large as a schooner’s keel-board. “But instead of attacking Balic, the Joorsh are sneaking up on us!” the bawan yelled, obviously angry.
“Nasty Joorsh!” Fylo agreed, nodding vigorously.
The bawan laid the axe blade against Fylo’s neck. “I think Sachem Mag’r doesn’t need the Oracle as much as he claims. I think he’s smart enough to send you here to warn me about the fleet, so we would attack it-and lose a quarter of our warriors!”
“Fylo no Joorsh!” Fylo gasped. “Sachem Mag’r filthy!”
Nal did not remove the blade. “And do you know what else I think?” he sneered. “I think you’re not as dumb as you act. It’s no coincidence that you returned on the eve of Mag’r’s attack, is it?”
Fylo’s recessed jaw began to quiver, and he shook his head. “Not Fylo’s idea,” he said.
Bawan Nal snorted. “What are you to do?” he demanded. “Wait until the battle starts, then use your bear to open the gate?”
Fylo shook his head. “No. Bawan think wrong.”
“I think right,” Nal replied, raising his axe.
The bear leaped forward, knocking Fylo aside and blocking the bawan’s axe with an immense foreleg. The blow took the limb cleanly off. A trickle of cold blood spilled from the dead beast’s wound, and it crashed face first to the stony ground. Instantly, a dozen Saram warriors jumped on its back and began prying at its bony armor.
The half-breed stepped toward the bear, then abruptly stopped. He still did not know whether Nal had been lying about making him a Saram, so he couldn’t decide whether he should try to correct the misunderstanding or attack Nal.
As Fylo contemplated his decision, the dead bear tried briefly to stand. The giants on its back weighed too much for even its great strength, and it collapsed back to the ground. The beastheads attacked with renewed fury, and a shoulder plate went sailing out of the fray. Soon, the half-breed knew, they would reach the bear’s interior. They were so furious that he doubted they would even notice Agis’s small body before they ripped it to pieces.
The thought of losing his first and only true friend made up Fylo’s mind for him. He stepped over to the fray and grabbed a weasel-headed woman, throwing her off the bear.
“Get up, Agis!” he yelled.
Behind you, Fylo! came the reply. Don’t worry about us.
The half-breed spun and saw Nal standing behind him. His axe was raised to strike again, but, astonished by the bear’s mental message, he was staring at it in wide-eyed astonishment. Fylo gave the bawan a mighty shove, sending him crashing back into the quartz enclosure. Nal’s head hit the wall with a resounding crack, and the axe slipped from his hands. His eyes grew glassy and unfocused, then he reached back to grasp a large crystal and brace himself.
Returning his attention to saving Agis, Fylo pulled another Saram off the pile, then a second, and a third. As quickly as he flung one aside, another leaped into the missing warrior’s place. Other beastheads began to attack him, clawing at his gravelly skin and raining thunderous blows down on his head. The half-breed could see that he would never free his friend in this manner, but he did not know what else he could do.
The bear’s efforts were just as futile. Pinned as it was on its stomach, it could bring neither its three remaining legs nor its muzzle to bear on them. It tried to roll over and crawl away, but met with no success. The immense weight bearing down on it probably would have been too great for a live bear, and Fylo knew that, as exhausted as Agis must be, he would not be able to infuse its muscles with even that much strength.
“Leave bear!” Fylo yelled, locking his arm around a lizard-headed Saram. “Bear not dangerous-Fylo is!”
The half-breed grabbed the warrior’s chin and pulled, snapping the neck with a loud crackle. A death rattle gurgled from the beasthead’s throat, then he dropped motionless to the ground. The other Saram hardly seemed to notice, save that some of those attacking him added their fangs to the battle.
Run, Fylo! Agis sent. You’ll do us more good if you escape.
“But-”
Do it! Agis commanded. Before Nal attacks you again.
The half-breed grabbed a Saram attacker and spun around to see Nal leaping at him. The bawan held his fingers splayed like claws, while his hooked beak gaped wide-open for the strike. Fylo hurled his captive at the owl-headed giant. Both Saram crashed to the ground with a tremendous rumble, Nal’s fingers and beak slashing wildly at his tribesman.
Fylo stepped away, pumping his legs hard as he tried to sprint to safety. Three strides later, a handful of Saram hit him from the side. The half-breed slammed into the ground and heard himself groan as his breath was forced from his lungs. In the next instant, he found a beasthead warrior sitting on each of his limbs, with two more straddling his chest.
Gasping for breath, he arched his back and tried to roll. His efforts were to no avail. Like his bear, he could not battle the sheer crush of bodies holding him down. Fylo looked toward the beast and saw that the Saram had ripped most of its bony plates away. Now they were mercilessly gouging its dead flesh with their fangs and filthy fingernails. The half-breed summoned his remaining strength and made one last attempt to pull free of his captors, but could not liberate even a single limb.
Nal came over and stood at Fylo’s side, holding his axe near the half-breed’s head. “I accepted you into my tribe,” he hissed angrily. “And you repay me with treachery!”
The bawan brought the axe handle down. A loud crack rang through Fylo’s skull, and everything went black for a moment. His nose went numb, and blood began to stream back into his throat, filling his mouth with a coppery taste.
“Please,” Fylo begged. “Don’t let warriors hurt little people.”
“Little people?” Nal asked.
The bawan struck again with his axe handle. This time, a terrible lancing pain shot through Fylo’s eye. The lid puffed up instantly.
“In bear,” Fylo said, using his chin to motion toward the beast. “They have secret for Bawan Nal.”
Nal stopped hitting Fylo and twisted his fluffy head toward the bear. About that time, the half-breed saw a flash of blue, sizzling light glimmer over the beast’s entire body. The Saram pinning it to the ground screamed in shock and clawed madly at each other in their panicked haste to leap free. With a great roar, the beast rose to its three remaining feet and galloped forward in an awkward hobble, heading straight for Fylo.