The thrax shifted into shadow form once more, and the second knife passed through it, and now, seeing her weaponless, the creature solidified once more, ready to leap. Behind it, the knife in the pagafa tree pulled free, pivoted around its axis, and flew forward, directed by psionic force, squarely into the creature’s back, between its shoulder blades.
The thrax howled and shifted into shadow once again. The blade that had stuck in its back dropped to the ground, but in that instant, Ryana threw her focus to her sword, lying at the foot of the pagafa tree, beside her rucksack. The iron blade leapt from its scabbard and flew across the fire hilt-first, directly into Ryana’s outstretched hand.
As the thrax solidified and leapt, Ryana quickly side-stepped and brought her sword down in a sweeping arc, decapitating the creature with one blow. It fell to the ground, dark blood bubbling up out of its neck, and its severed head rolled toward the fire. The long and oily hair burst into flame, and the odor of charred flesh assailed Ryana’s nostrils. She backed away and retched.
Suddenly, she felt that tingling sensation at the back of her neck again and spun around, her sword held ready before her. The Ranger stood there, watching her with a dispassionate gaze. She sighed with enormous relief and, exhausted, lowered her sword.
The Ranger stepped forward and looked down at the decapitated corpse of the creature, its blood staining the sand.
“Thrax,” he said simply. Then he looked at her and nodded with approval. Without another word, he went over to the fire, where the thrax’s head was burning, its charred flesh sending out a nauseating odor as it was consumed. The Ranger tossed on some more wood. He sat down, cross-legged, on the ground, lowered his head onto his chest, and slept. A moment later, the head came up again and Sorak gazed at her.
“You seem to have had a busy night,” he said. “You can sleep now, if you like. I will keep watch until dawn.”
“When did you come back?” she asked, still breathing heavily from her exertions.
“I only awoke just this moment,” Sorak said.
“I meant the Ranger,” she said.
“Ah. One moment, I will ask him.” His face took on a distant, preoccupied expression for a moment, then his attention focused on her once again. “It seems he arrived a few moments before you killed the thrax,” he said.
“And it did not occur to him to help?” she asked with astonishment.
“You seemed to have the situation well in hand,” said Sorak. “He did not wish to interfere with your kill.”
“With my kill?” she said, with disbelief. “I was fighting for my life!”
“Successfully, it would appear,” said Sorak, with a glance toward the thrax’s headless body.
“Damn you, Sorak! You could have helped me!”
“Ryana,” he said apologetically, “forgive me, but I slept through the whole thing.”
Her shoulders slumped as she sighed and tossed her sword down on the ground beside him. “Right,” she said, with a grimace. “Of course.”
“You are angry with me.”
“No,” she said, with resignation, “but I would certainly like to give the Ranger a piece of my mind!”
“Go ahead, if it will make you feel better,” Sorak said. “He will hear you.”
She sank down to the ground beside him. “Oh, what’s the point?” she said. “Doubtless, it would only puzzle him.”
“I fear that’s true,” said Sorak. “But still, if it would help....”
“Just go and get my knives,” she said, curling up on the ground and wrapping her cloak around her. “I’m tired, and all I want to do is sleep.”
She pillowed her head upon her rucksack and closed her eyes. She could not remember when she had ever felt so thoroughly exhausted. The next thing she knew, it was dawn.
3
With Sorak keeping watch, the rest of the night passed uneventfully, and Ryana awoke shortly after sunrise, feeling more rested but still tired and sore. When she opened her eyes and sat up, she saw that the body of the thrax was gone, and for a moment, the alarming thought occurred to her that one of Sorak’s more carnivorous personalities had eaten it.
“I dragged it off into those scrub bushes over there last night,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I did not think it would be a very pleasant sight for you to see first thing in the morning. The scavenger beetles were already at it.”
She sighed inwardly with relief.
“You cried out in your sleep last night,” he said.
She nodded, repressing a shudder. “I dreamt about the thrax. It was not a very pleasant dream.”
“Understandable, considering the circumstances,” Sorak said. “Still, how many people can boast of vanquishing a thrax singlehandedly? You acquitted yourself well, little sister. Tamura would be proud of you.”
She thought of their weapons training instructor back at the convent and was grateful now that Tamura had been such a relentless taskmaster. Ryana had cursed her on more than one occasion. Now, she blessed her. If not for Tamura’s training, it would have been her corpse that would now be lying in the bushes.
“We still have a long way to go,” said Sorak, gathering his things. He looked remarkably fresh, and Ryana envied him not only his amazing elfling powers of endurance, but also his ability to duck under and sleep while one of his other personalities took control of his body. She would not wish to trade places with him, but she was forced to admit that there were certain unique advantages to his condition.
“How far do you think we have come?” she asked him.
“I would estimate a little more than halfway to the spring,” he said. “The thrax would not have wandered very far from the trail. They like to stay within striking distance of the caravan routes and keep watch for vulnerable stragglers. I think that we should reach the trail before midday. The traveling should be easier after that.”
“Well, I’m all for that,” she said, gathering her belongings.
“I retrieved your knives last night, as you requested,” said Sorak, with a smile, recalling her curt command to him to get her knives. He handed her the blades.
“Thank you.”
“I had to do some searching to find this one,” he said, as he gave her back one of the stilettos. “I was surprised to see how far it flew. You have a strong arm.”
“Fear induces strength,” she said wryly.
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“But you did not let your fear paralyze you,” he replied. “That is good. You have learned well. Few things can be more frightening than a thrax.”
“Well, whatever those few things are, I can do without meeting them,” she said.
They shouldered their packs and headed east, toward the rising sun, moving at a steady, yet comfortable pace. Ryana was in excellent physical condition, yet still her legs felt sore from walking all the previous day. The fight with the thrax had taken a lot out of her, as well. She felt the effects not only of the previous night’s exertions, but of the stress, too.
She noticed Sorak slowing his pace slightly, so as not to make her work to keep up. I’m slowing him down, she thought. He could easily make twice the time or more by running. Yet he knew that if he did so, she would never be able to keep pace with him.
“I am sorry that I cannot move faster,” she said, feeling woefully inadequate.
“There is no hurry,” Sorak replied. “No one is chasing us. We have all the time in the world to reach Nibenay. For that matter, we do not even know what we are supposed to do when we get there.”
“Try to make contact with the Veiled Alliance,” she said. “That seems the obvious course.”
“Perhaps, but it will not be easy,” he said. “Strangers are always looked upon with suspicion in the cities. I remember how it was in Tyr. Neither of us have ever been to Nibenay, and unlike Tyr, Nibenay is still ruled by a defiler. The templars of the Shadow King will control all the power in the city, and they will have many informants. We shall have to be very circumspect in our inquiries.”