Drenched in blood and rain, tangled knots of her long red hair plastered against her face, she dropped to her knees, gasping for air. Rain beat down ferociously, the wind howled and gusted, and the airship twisted and lurched as if alive. Little Red felt the decking shudder and creak beneath her, as if everything was coming apart.
A booming crash brought her head up with a jerk. The lower aft spar had broken loose and fallen on top of the pilot box. The Federation soldier who had been struggling with the steering lay crushed and dying in a mass of splintered wood and bent metal. The Jerle Shannara was flying out of control.
Then she saw Furl Hawken. Almost buried by broken parts and debris, he lay atop one Mwellret and close beside another, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his face a mask of blood. A long knife was buried in his back and a dagger in his side. His short sword was still clutched in one hand. He was staring right at her, blue eyes open and fixed. He seemed to be looking past her to something she could not see.
She choked back a sob as tears filled her eyes and her throat tightened in a knot. Hawk! No! She pushed herself to her feet and started toward him, already knowing she was too late, but refusing to believe it. Staggering against the force of the wind and the lurching of the airship, she shook her head and began to cry, unable to help herself, unable to stop.
Then the Mwellret that lay next to the dead man turned slowly to face her. Blood streaked its reptilian face and cloaked body, and its eyes were dazed and furious. Lurching to its feet, it yanked the long knife from Hawk’s back and started toward her.
She retreated slowly, realizing she had no weapon with which to defend herself. When she stumbled over the Mwellret she had killed, her hand brushed against the sword that jutted from its body. Turning, she pulled the blade free and faced her opponent.
“Come get me, ret!” she taunted through anger and tears and a terrible sadness.
The Mwellret said nothing, approaching cautiously, warily through the haze. Rue Meridian dropped into a crouch, working to keep her balance, to steady herself against the rolling of the airship. She found herself wishing she had her throwing knives. Perhaps she could have killed the Mwellret before it reached her if she did. But the sword would have to do. Both hands gripped the pommel as she held the blade stretched out before her. There was no time to find the others and no one else to turn to for help. There was only her. If she died, they were all lost. Given the condition of the ship, they might all be lost anyway.
Like Hawk.
The Mwellret was on top of her before she realized it, a huge dark shadow. It had masked its approach with a hissing sound that was so hypnotic and distracting that for a few precious seconds she had lost all sense of her danger. It was only her tears that saved her. Hands still clasped about the sword’s handle, she wiped at them with her sleeve, saw the Mwellret right in front of her, and swung the weapon without thinking. The blade slipped under the Mwellret’s raised arm and bit deeply into its side. Blood spurted, and the creature staggered into her, striking at her chest with the long knife. She deflected the blow, but the blade ripped down her arm and into her thigh. She cried out, seizing the Mwellret’s arm and pinning it against her body, fighting the shock that threatened to paralyze her.
Locked together, they surged across the decking, each fighting to upend the other, to gain a killing hold. The contest was equal, the Mwellret was stronger, but it was badly injured and weakened from loss of blood. Unable to find anything better, it used its claws as a weapon, shredding Rue Meridian’s cloak and tunic and finally her skin. She shrieked in pain and fury as the claws tore at her, then threw herself backwards in an effort to break free. Rover and Mwellret careened into the masthead and went down. As they did, the latter’s grip loosened, and Little Red kicked free. But the Mwellret did not lose contact with her entirely, its clawed fingers grasping one leg as she tried to crawl clear. She kicked at the creature with her other leg, her boot heel slamming into its head. Twisting and rolling, they slid toward the railing, picking up speed as the airship gave a violent lurch. A broken spar slowed their skid, then gave way before their combined weight.