Lost (14 page)

If I survived
then maybe I would have a chance to ask some of my questions.

The lamias had
collapsed around us, forming a long double line. As we pulled even
with each set of lamias, they reached out and grabbed the side of our
boat for just long enough to give us a push towards the island. The
resulting journey was much smoother than I would have expected. Their
pushes were deceptively graceful and by the end we'd built up a lot
more speed than I'd realized or I would have tried to cushion the
impact when we hit the island.

We hit with
enough force that Ash and Kristin were both sent sliding forward
toward the front of the boat. They didn't hit the gunwale, but being
pushed across the bottom of the boat, which wasn't perfectly smooth,
drew a ragged groan out of Ash.

I reached down
to check on him, but Celeste was already there, her fingers on his
pulse.

"I think
he's okay still. His pulse is still about as strong as it was when I
checked him earlier while you were asleep."

"Okay,
keep an eye on him. It wouldn't take much to open some of those tears
back up and he hasn't been topped up with fresh blood like they did
with Kristin before we broke her out of the hospital."

I got a
distracted nod in response, which caused me to turn and look. The
lamias had all left the water and gathered on the far side of the
island, which meant I was able to get my first clear view of their
size. I was surprised to see that there were two different groups.
The one who had been talking to us—the one with the
non-retracting fangs—and two others were only a couple of
inches shy of seven feet tall, but all of the rest of the lamias
looked like they couldn't be more than six-two or six-three.

Knowing my luck
I was going to have to fight one of the big ones, but there wasn't
anything I could do about it. This was their home, which meant that
we were going to be playing by their rules. I was running out of
clothes so I stripped down to my ha'bit, took a deep breath, and then
stepped off of the boat onto the squishy mud of the island.

I walked up to
the lamia in the center, the one we'd been talking to, and gave him a
respectful nod that I hoped translated between species.

"My name
is Isaac and I'm ready to begin. Who am I challenging?"

The lamia
before me gave me a slow nod in return. "Welcome, Isaac. I am
known as Set. Your manner does you credit."

"Thank
you. Will I be fighting you, then?"

He looked me
over, eyes stopping at each of the spots where I'd been injured,
despite the fact that my ha'bit covered up all of the tape.

"You're
injured. While it does you credit that you are willing to face
me…honor does not demand such a match yet. You are free to
face a…lesser opponent if you so desire. Any of those present
would be considered worthy opponents, but the other two consorts
would likewise be considered beyond the bounds of what honor
requires."

I looked around
at the rest of the lamia who were waiting to either side of Set. None
of them seemed unhappy with having been called lesser opponents; in
fact, none of them seemed to have any feelings one way or another
about the fight.

When you were
dealing with a shape shifter pack in any kind of challenge situation
you could always count on them throwing someone at you whom they were
confident could beat you. Preferably that wasn't the alpha of the
pack as it set a bad precedent, but if he was the only one the pack
was confident would come out on top then he was the one you faced off
against. It was only when nobody in the pack was good enough to be
sure of beating you that they threw the submissives into the rotation
in an effort to wear the challenger down to the point where one of
the dominants could be sure of winning.

Everything
about this challenge felt wrong. Set had just indicated that he could
wipe the floor with me, but instead of taking me on himself so as to
make sure that none of the others in his party would be killed, he
was offering to let me go up against someone he thought I had a
chance of beating.

If I knew
enough to pick the right opponent then I could maximize my chances of
winning, but I had no way of knowing who the weakest fighter was.
There wasn't any surge of energy as they prepared themselves to
fight, nobody was moving back and forth with pre-fight jitters, it
was just one long line of impassive lamias who didn't seem to care
whether or not I picked them.

"Honored
Set, I have no way of knowing who would be the most appropriate
opponent for me. I would defer to your judgment, if honor allows such
a thing."

It was a risk.
Set could always set me up against a ringer I couldn't possibly beat,
but it seemed like the right risk to take.

"Such a
thing is indeed permitted, although it puts me in a difficult
position. The
snnelt
…the worker on the far end is the
youngest and least able fighter. You may fight him without any fear
of dishonor. You show uncommon wisdom for one not of the people, for
a sun person."

I bowed my head
to him in respect. "I thank you for your guidance and apologize
for any discomfort my request might have occasioned. I will do as
you have counseled."

"Very
well. You may shift to your sun form now if you wish. The contest
will commence when your opponent steps toward you."

The change tore
through me without any effort on my part. I'd had my beast leashed as
tightly as I'd ever managed before and I'd still nearly started
shaking as my beast tried to force a transformation. As soon as I
relaxed the grip I was maintaining on my beast, he pushed me into
hybrid form.

My added weight
once I was a hybrid forced my feet deeper into the mud. I moved side
to side, shifting my feet to pack down enough mud that I'd be able to
move without getting stuck.

The lamia I'd
chosen as my opponent remained motionless for several seconds and
then sprang towards me with the kind of speed that I'd only ever seen
out of hybrids or werewolves previously. He was fast, but not so fast
that I didn't have a chance at beating him.

I dodged to the
left, avoiding a slash from the claws on his hand, and raked my claws
down the outside of his arm. The texture was all wrong, it felt like
my claws were skidding off of scales. I should have scored a long
gash down the length of his arm, instead there wasn't anything more
than a thin, intermittent line of blood.

We both
recovered and started circling. Set had indicated that my opponent
was young, which hopefully also indicated that he was less
experienced, more easily tricked, and prone to simple, direct
attacks.

I moved
forward, trying to draw his arms out of position, but he saw through
my attack and blocked my claws with his. I'd hoped that his claws
might not be as hard as mine, but that wasn't the case. They were
made out of something different, something almost crystalline in
feel, but they seemed more than able to withstand the punishment of
hitting my claws if we were both going after each other for real.

The next
exchange sent me reeling back with blood running down my right arm.
He hadn't gotten to the inside of my arm, so it wasn't bleeding like
it could have been, but it was still a sign that he'd read my attack
and been prepared for me.

I set myself
and then charged forward. My enemy was fast, but he hadn't seen just
how quickly a hybrid's reverse-articulated legs could launch me
forward. He tried to plant himself at the same time he brought his
arms back into position to intercept me, but I'd caught him off guard
and his arms were too far to the outside.

I led with my
shoulder and hit him hard enough that most hybrids would have gone
tumbling backwards, but he was heavier than I'd expected. I still
knocked him down, but it was a close thing.

I'd been hoping
for the kind of bone-rattling collision that would disorient him and
tip the balance of the fight firmly in my direction, but I hadn't
been depending on it. I hit him with my shoulder, but my right hand
had been only a couple of inches behind and the fact that he hadn't
given as much as expected meant that the tips of my claws hit even
harder than I'd been expecting.

His scales had
stood up well against raking attacks, but they were no match for a
straight stabbing attack with my full weight behind it. There was
only the barest amount of resistance and then my claws punched
through his scales and buried themselves inside of his flesh.

I rode him to
the ground as my momentum carried him over backwards. I was so
worried about his claws that I didn't pay enough attention to his
feet. Somehow he managed to get them up between us and he
straightened them with a single explosive movement at the exact
instant when his back hit the ground.

He launched me
more than twenty feet backwards, tearing my claws out of his chest a
split-second before his feet lost contact with my chest. The impact
was bruising. I was frankly surprised that he hadn't cracked some of
my ribs, but for the first time this fight I felt a smile pulling my
lips back so my teeth showed.

He was
fast—nearly as fast as I was—and he was much stronger
than I was, but he wasn't indestructible. I'd just hurt him and by my
calculations I was up on points and feeling pretty good about things.
Even my chest wounds weren't hurting like they had been.

There was a
quiet murmur from the watching lamia, which made me incredibly
nervous. Other than Set, none of them had said anything before now,
but that exchange had apparently caught them by surprise. All I could
do was hope that I hadn't broken some kind of unstated rule that was
going to cause them all to turn on me.

My opponent
pulled himself back to his feet, one arm pressed against his chest
where I'd stabbed him, and then stood motionless for several seconds
as he waited for me to move and I waited to see if Set and the others
were going to come after me.

Set made a
gesture and the lamia I'd been fighting broke into a run towards me.
I made as though planning on meeting his charge head on, but I knew
he would level me if I actually tried that. Instead of meeting brute
force with brute force, I dodged to the side at the last possible
instant.

I'd almost
waited too long. His arms were longer than I'd realized and he
managed to slice the top of my right shoulder. I spun back around to
slash him before he made it too far past me, but he was already gone
and my right arm wasn't working quite right anymore. I still had good
lateral movement and strength, but I couldn't raise it as high as I
normally could.

The confidence
I'd just been feeling evaporated as the lamia turned back around and
charged me again. If anything he was even faster and more committed
than he'd been before. I started my dodge sooner this time, but he
was expecting me to do exactly that and he had just enough time to
compensate for my dodge. This time his claws tore into my side in
almost the exact same spot where Nicolas had injured me just hours
before.

Once again the
lamia was past me before I could do more than connect with a
half-hearted, ineffectual swipe that skittered off of his scales.

I was bleeding
heavily from my side and my right arm was only at seventy percent. I
had to come up with something soon or I was a dead man. One or two
more passes like that would wear me down to the point where he could
dispatch me at his leisure. No wonder these things hunted werewolves
for sport. They were the next best thing to indestructible and the
one I was fighting wasn't even using his venom on me.

There wasn't
any question—he was going to charge me again, but I didn't wait
for him. Instead, I charged forward at the exact same time, blurring
into motion in the hopes that I could throw off his timing.

I made as if to
meet him head on again, but we both knew that would be foolish, so he
was once again expecting me to dodge aside at the last possible
second. I gave him exactly what he was expecting. I'd dodged to my
left twice now and failed to get away cleanly both times, so this
time I went right.

Which was
exactly what he wanted me to do. The speed and ease with which he
adjusted as I started my dodge told me that he'd let his weight shift
to my right even before I'd started moving.

There was no
possible way to get far enough to the right to avoid his claws. I'd
started moving too early, even sooner than I had on the last pass,
and he had plenty of time to veer as far right as he needed to in
order to mow me down.

Everything was
developing exactly as I'd hoped. I planted my right foot in the mud
and pushed off as hard as I could, dodging to the left after he'd
already committed himself to going right. Even my best dodge wasn't
quite up to getting me completely out of his path, but that was okay
too. I ducked under his right arm and then I hit him.

This time I
didn't lead with my shoulder, I led with my claws. All five claws
slid home and then I splayed them out in an effort to stop them from
ripping out through his side. My duck to avoid his right arm,
combined with the fact that my shoulder wasn't working quite right,
meant that I hadn't been able to take him up high enough to hit
anything vital.

I hadn't taken
him in the heart and I didn't seem to have hit any major arteries,
but my hand in his guts served as a kind of moving, fleshy anchor and
I used it to flip myself around behind him.

His speed was
still breathtaking, but this time, aided by the grip my right hand
had on him, I managed to get around fast enough to slam my left hand
home in his back roughly where the left kidney would have been on a
human. It almost wasn't enough. He was already slowing, his hands
were both coming down and back and I was low enough that he wasn't
going to have any problems scraping me off of his back.