51. Drasuk

51

Drasuk

Finding them was easy enough this time. I simply followed the smell of floxis blood, which is now a sickly rancid scent, but still recognizable. And also still masking their smell, so I am unsure of their numbers.

"I see drak shimmers up ahead," she informs me, pointing.

We are slowly making our way closer, Kira near my side when I hear the distinct sound of a rock burst cannon being fired. I grab the small female, push her to the ground, and position my body over her for protection.

The ground beside us explodes with a near miss.

Another thump of the shell being loaded into a large chamber lets me know another shot will soon land. I quickly pick her up and move away as the shell hits where we just were.

I find a large hollowed-out dip beneath the roots of a large tree and shove her in it. Then I stand back up and scan my surroundings.

As soon as I spot the form of another drakonid in a tree a ways to my left, the one in charge of the cannon fires off a third shot at us. I growl in irritation and dart out of the way of that blast, too.

"You sons of pedigree-less yolks. Come out and face me," I yell at the hunter in the tree.

Instead of accepting the offer of a fair fight, the drak starts leaping from one tree to another for cover, which only further enrages me. Have they lost even the most basic sense of honor?

Now that they are closer, I can smell them, but I don't recognize their scent. Maybe they are from a different clan.

I follow his movements until he stops behind a tree to our right.

Once he peeks out and takes aim again, Kira is ready for him. Her shot knocks his weapon out of his hand and I'm charging toward him as he drops down to retrieve it.

I quickly lash out with my tail, knocking him off balance. With a growl, I launch myself at him, throwing up an arm to deflect his frantic blows. He is weak, and it doesn't take me long to flip him over so I can sink my fangs into his tender underside, tearing through flesh and muscle.

I assume he regrets choosing easy movement over armor.

He screams in pain and tries to push me away, but I dig my claws into his side, holding him in place as I eviscerate anything I can reach.

"Move!" Kira yells out at me, and I don't hesitate to leap away.

Another cannon shell explodes right on top of my victim, finishing him when he takes a direct hit to his vulnerable stomach. They are that willing to kill their own?

I glance over at Kira, then over toward what she's aiming. She's taking shots at the drak working the cannon. She must have been trying to hit their eyes because they have an arm thrown over their face and I see a shot ricochet off.

I take advantage of the distraction she is providing and tear through the trees toward him.

He's an odd patchy green and brown. Coloring and patterns I've never seen on a drak. As I get closer, I see the addition of bony protrusions that offend me on a fundamental level.

It looks like Xar'Ar'ax has been doing well enough to afford modifications to more than just his inner circle.

I resist the urge to bellow out my derision. They are fools to modify what the manticorids already perfected.

He pulls out a metallic spear, lengthens it, and holds it in front of him. Unlike this mixed blood, I don't need a weapon to win this fight, though I will happily take it with me.

I crush their cannon as they retreat from it, then turn to face them. I flick my tail menacingly and bare my fangs.

"Your move, you disgraceful piece of scat," I growl.

He screams out in rage and charges at me.

My spines shift in amusement at a Kira tactic working so well. If they are that easily goaded, this should be a quick fight.

I wait until the traitor is close enough, then sidestep at the last second and whip my tail across his back. He grunts and whirls around to face me with a snarl. He tries to jab me with his spear.

With each jab he throws, I dodge or deflect with ease as I analyze his attack patterns. He is not very good, and clearly hasn't worked to increase his stamina because his hits become sloppier.

Shortly after, I see the start of one of his repeated patterns, which allows me to time a swing of my tail at his head. I strike one of his eyes. The move stuns him briefly, giving me time to kick his leg out and slam my claws into his newly exposed throat.

He stumbles back and falls to the ground, his spear falling away. The traitor looks up with fearful eyes. He goes to get up, but I knock him back down.

"Wait. Stop, brother." he pleads.

I will hear none of it. "You are no brother of mine, you inferior piece of excrement," I growl.

I let out a huff of breath as I move to finish it. Kira's speech habits are clearly invading my mind.

In a desperate last effort, the traitor extends his wrist blades and swipes at me.

I take a light blow to my chest, and then move out of the way. It only takes me a moment to transfer his abandoned spear from my tail to an arm so I can drive it through a gap in his armor through his heart.

His body jerks and spasms as I pull the spear back out. Ready to face whichever new opponent has entered the fray.

When I catch another whiff of floxis blood, I know the rest have heard us, but it still takes considerable willpower to follow our plan and not let the rage pumping through me goad me into charging at them.

I have more than myself to think of, and Ree's plan is a good one, as loathe as I am to admit it.

Instead of bellowing out my challenge, I take the time to strip the traitor of wrist knives and the plate of armor over his stomach. It is far too small, but at least it will be some form of protection.

I get it buckled on loosely, then grab the spear, activate the button that makes it retract into a smaller baton, and then click it into place in the slot made to hold it on the belly plate.

The ill-fitting straps chafe my tender underbelly as I run back toward Kira, but I ignore it. When I get to her, she has a hunk of pink hair in her hand, ready to release strands of it as I run toward the hot springs.

"You were fucking amazing," she tells me in Manticorid, and my spines quiver in pleasure at the compliment.

I rumble my appreciation as she clambers up my back, her weapons thumping against my hide. "Your shots were as unerring as always, little one."

She's grumbling some nonsense about size obsession and overcompensation as I pick up speed.