Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

The creature’s breath caught in its throat, and its head arced backwards. Jebel had been edging forward to join the battle, but he paused, thinking it might be over. Tel Hesani’s sword had stuck about halfway in. He tried ramming it deeper into the beast, failed, then began to pull it out.

That was when the beast went mad. It whipped around with astonishing speed and lashed at Tel Hesani with its head. It struck him hard across his stomach, and he fell away, losing his grip on the sword, which remained sticking out of the beast’s ridged back. Clambering off Hubaira, the creature gathered itself, then leapt at Tel Hesani, landing on him as it had pounced on the Um Siq girl moments before.

When Jebel saw the danger Tel Hesani was in, he swung his sword. The blade bounced harmlessly off the creature’s shell, but he had distracted it. The beast fixed its dark green eyes on the boy, gauged the threat he posed, then dismissed him and snapped at Tel Hesani again.

Jebel struck a second time, then a third, but the animal took no notice. He stepped back, panting, not sure what to do, then was knocked aside by Hubaira, who was on her feet, bleeding in many places but determined to finish the job she had started. Leaping onto the beast, she picked her spot, then jabbed her dagger into its neck.

The creature snorted, then bucked. Hubaira went flying and crashed into a wall. As she staggered upright, the beast’s claw connected with her face. She spun around sharply, hit the wall again, and sank to the floor. The beast turned to where Tel Hesani was struggling to sit up, scrabbling in the sand for anything to defend himself with. It seemed to grin, then advanced slowly, sure of victory.

Jebel weighed his chances. If the beast killed Tel Hesani and began to feast on him, maybe the boy could slip away unseen. Two bodies would surely provide more than enough meat, even for a creature this size. He should seize his chance and run. There was no way he could defeat the beast. It would be crazy to waste his life. But…

Tel Hesani had leapt to the girl’s rescue. He’d seen that Hubaira was in trouble and had dived in to help, regardless of the risk to his life. The Um Kheshabah was still alive, and as far as Jebel knew, Hubaira was too. If he ran, he would be displaying less courage than a slave and a girl. That was unacceptable. He had to fight or forever live in shame.

As Jebel stepped forward, preparing to go to work with his sword, he saw something on the ground — Hubaira’s catapult. It must have been dislodged during the struggle. Jebel stopped. He’d never been warrior material — too thin, too bony, too weak — but he had a good eye and a steady hand. He had always held his own in target games, be the weapons blowpipes, bows, or slings.

Jebel stooped, picked up the catapult, then found a few decent-sized stones. He loaded one into the sling, pulled it back halfway, and took aim. The beast was snapping at Tel Hesani’s toes, playing with him before it killed him. There was no point firing at its back — if his sword hadn’t been able to penetrate its armor, a pebble certainly wouldn’t — so Jebel pursed his lips and whistled. When the creature ignored him, he shouted, “Hey! Ugly!”

The beast’s head swiveled around just a fraction, but that was all Jebel needed. He pulled the sling back the rest of the way, then released it. The stone flew fast and true, and the beast’s right eye exploded in a gooey shower.

The creature howled — an ear-shattering blast — but Jebel didn’t flinch. Loading another stone, he fired again. He meant to take out the beast’s other eye, but it twisted aside, so the stone only struck the middle of its forehead. Before he could fire a third time, the animal threw itself at him. If it had connected, it would have pulverized the boy. But its sight was distorted and it flew wide of Jebel, smashing into the wall. As it turned, shaking its head, Jebel stepped sideways and fired. This time he hit the second eye, and although he didn’t destroy it, the lid swelled up and blocked the creature’s sight, all but blinding it.

As the beast flailed around, writhing in the dust and sand, snapping at the air, Tel Hesani advanced, having retrieved his sword. He took aim and drove the tip of the blade deep into the middle of the creature’s head.

The beast screamed one last time, then rolled onto its side, twitched, and fell still. Tel Hesani stabbed it again, to be safe, then stumbled away. He would have fallen, but Jebel caught and steadied him. Tel Hesani glanced at Jebel blankly, then smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Jebel grunted and released the slave. “Is it definitely dead?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Tel Hesani, wiping blood from his face. “You fought well.”

Jebel grinned shyly. “Somebody had to save you,” he chuckled. “J’Al always said that no slave could fight worth spit.”

Tel Hesani’s face stiffened. “A noble victory, my lord,” he said icily. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will check on our fallen companion.”

Jebel frowned as Tel Hesani limped to where Hubaira lay sprawled and unmoving. The slave was too thin-skinned. He took every little joke as an insult. Tel Hesani owed Jebel his life. A show of genuine gratitude wouldn’t have killed the pale wretch.

But when he saw Tel Hesani turn the girl over and lower his ear to her mouth, Jebel forgot his anger. Hubaira had fought for both their lives. She could have used them as fodder, to distract the beast, but she hadn’t. It was wrong of him to pick fault with Tel Hesani at a time when his thoughts should be for the girl who’d helped save them.

Jebel hurried forward and stood nervously by Tel Hesani’s side. Hubaira’s face was a mess, torn to bloody shreds. Her neck and upper chest had also been clawed to pieces, and a bone stuck out of her stomach. She was breathing, but heavily, and blood frothed on her lips.

“Will she live?” Jebel asked, dreading the answer.

Tel Hesani studied the girl’s neck, then her stomach. He gently pried her lips apart, sucked blood from her mouth, and spat it out. He gazed down her throat, watched fresh blood well up, then sighed. “No.”

Jebel went cold. “There must be something we can do,” he insisted.

“Pray for her spirit,” said Tel Hesani.

“But—”

Hubaira coughed, and her eyelids fluttered open. For a moment she looked like she’d awakened from a dream, but then she blinked and came alert. “The… mamlah?” she croaked.

“Dead,” Tel Hesani said.

Hubaira smiled thinly. “They don’t… attack often. But they… normally kill when they… do. We did well… to defeat it.” She coughed again, and blood burst from her mouth and over her chin. She looked at Tel Hesani. “I am… injured.”

“Yes.”

“It is… serious?” He nodded slowly. “Will I… die?”

Tel Hesani hesitated, then nodded again. “Your lungs have been punctured. There is nothing we can do.”

Hubaira snarled, then laughed. Blood spattered from her lips, and she had to rest before she could speak again. “At least I… died in battle. There is no… shame in losing… to a mamlah. How long… before…?”

“Minutes,” Tel Hesani said, tenderly wiping blood from her face.

Hubaira started to say something else, but a wave of pain washed over her and she shook fiercely. Jebel thought she was going to die then, but she was still alive when the spasms passed. With a great effort, she focused on Tel Hesani. “Put my… dagger… in my… hand.” Tel Hesani did as she asked. “Tell my people… we fought… together. That should… work in… your favor.”

“We will carry your body to your parents,” Tel Hesani promised. “We’ll see that you are buried with—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Leave me… here. Just… cut off… my head. That is… all my family… needs.”