Then like an Earth-born falcon, the wyvern cocked its head back and forth, examining its kill with its eyes. Protected by a ridge of bone, the solid pupil was a beady black target.
Kate ducked out of her niche, raised her rifle up to her shoulder, and aimed down on the eye. Breathe. Hold it. And she squeezed the trigger.
Even as the elephant rifle kicked, the wyvern jerked its head around, spotting her movement. The bullet ricocheted off the bone ridge, making the wyvern jerk its head aside.
Reflex kicked in, and with icy calm, Kate worked the bolt — ejecting the spent round, loading another bullet, locking the action — and took aim. Kill it, before it kills you.
But she forgot about the massive tail until seconds before it hit her.
She saw it whipping toward her, knew she couldn’t dodge it, and held position to get off her shot. Kill it, before…
And then darkness exploded around her, the actual contact lost in a moment of unconsciousness, and then she was aware of being airborne. Falling. Somewhere close by, she could hear her computer, tucked into the cliff face, pinging again.
Not off the cliff, oh God, not off the cliff. And so the contact with solid land only a moment later actually came as a relief. She managed to tumble across the ground, lessening the impact, torn earth filling her senses.
She scrambled to her knees, trying to gain her feet, but her right leg was refusing to move. A bus-sized mouth full of teeth was coming at her — rows upon rows of sharp shark-like teeth.
She was going to die. “God damn it.”
With a deep guttural howl, a streak of light flashed through the air, lightning-white in intensity. The light struck the wyvern in the side of the neck, sliced through the armored skin and punched through the other side of the huge neck.
What the hell? Kate didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. If she lived, she’d investigate closer. If the wyvern was dead, the news hadn’t reached its brain yet. It came on.
She rolled to the side, whimpering in pain from her right leg. There was her rifle. The wyvern hadn’t turned, and its forward motion began to look like floundering. She could still hear the pinging from her computer, though. The second one was coming.
The tumble hadn’t damaged her rifle. It had been fired at some point since she last remembered holding it. She worked the bolt, reloading, and looked up.
Stormsong stood on an outcropping of rock, arrow nocked and bow drawn, sighting down on the wyvern on the ground. What was the little idiot doing? The elf released the string, and the arrow flashed toward the wyvern. Immediately the arrow howled, and light flared around it, growing in size and intensity as it leaped the span. The second arrow struck the wyvern in the back of the skull, blasting the news of its death straight into the brain this time. The wyvern collapsed into an ungainly tangle of giant limbs.
Magic arrows. The damn bitch had magic arrows.
And the damn bitch was going to get nailed from behind. The second wyvern was in a silent dive — aimed at the elf outlined against the stars. The wyvern on the ground probably was the male, because the one in the air was much bigger.
“Stormsong! Move!” Kate shouted, bringing her rifle to her shoulder.
The female wyvern was still in its power dive, wings folded close to its body, mouth closed, its tiny eyes invisible — a great expanse of bulletproof armor. Kate held her breath, waiting for an opening.
And the chance came, as it swung its legs forward, wings spreading to brake its dive. The vulnerable joints of the wings opened up. She squeezed the trigger, and the rifle kicked hard on her shoulder. The bullet struck the joint, jerking the wyvern sidewise, and then its wing folded back at an impossible angle. The wyvern screamed and came tumbling out of the air. It struck the side of the cliff below them in an earth-shaking impact.
Curling in pain on the ground, Kate reloaded the rifle’s magazine. Oh, God, please, let there only be two.
Silence filled the night. Stormsong stood on her rocky lookout, staring down at the ruined mass of the female. Finally she crossed the ledge to Kate.
“I think my leg is broken.” Kate didn’t want to whimper, not in front of her.
Stormsong dropped down to her knees and then prostrated herself fully on the ground. “Forgiveness.”
“Huh?”
“I have treated you poorly since your arrival, you who have come so far to help us. I believed myself to be superior of all humans and yet found that I was only merely equal. I let it irritate me, and in spite, treated you rudely.”
It was as if Stormsong held up a mirror to her soul. Kate suddenly saw her own arrogance and irritation reflected in the elf. This is what was driving me nuts, Kate realized, I saw how I acted with all other natives. I didn’t like what it showed of myself.
“I wasn’t at my best either,” Kate muttered, dismayed by the revelation.
“We elves say ‘see the beast in yourself and kill it.’ I have slain my beast.”
Kill the beast, before it kills you.
“Ah,” Kate said, and meant every word, “how very wise of you.”