[Continued from here]
Another
metal plate sailed through the air from behind the creature, connecting
squarely with the back of its head. As it spun once more, Beranwen saw Mendel
picking a new plate from a pile being held by Quinton.
“Come
on then, you beast.” He yelled. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction,
Beranwen turned and finally freed the horse, then took another swing at the
creature with her plate. The sharp edge cut into the tip of a wing and dug into
the chitinous shell of the body, but it seemed not to notice. Mendel threw
another plate.
“Get
out of there, you mad woman!” He cried. She didn’t wait to be told twice,
although she did try to pull the metal plate free before she went. It didn’t
move, but the creature felt it at last. It turned again, still dazed and even
more uncertain now it was being attacked from two sides, but Beranwen was
already through the door in the porch, circling through the house, coming out
behind Quinton…
“Come
on, you two. Let’s go.”
“No.”
Quinton resisted her as she pulled at him. “We have to fight it. Do you know
what it is? It’s a Garrasi.”
“Don’t
be silly, Quinton. It can’t be. Come on.”
“Don’t
tell me I’m being silly, Master Win.” Quinton sounded cross, but oddly
resolute. “This is a Garrasi. I’ve learnt about them. It was sent by the Enemy,
and I’m supposed to fight it.”
“You
don’t know how to fight!” Beranwen tried keeping her voice down – the creature
was still looking back at where she had been, trying to find the source of the
pain in its back.
“Listen
to your advisor, lord Quinton.” Mendel said solidly, taking the pile of plates
from his hands. “Maybe it is what you say it is, and maybe it’s not, but we’re
not equipped to fight it. Leave the bravado for another day.”
Between
them, they hassled Quinton back into the house. Thankfully, he had the presence
of mind not to shout his complaints, but he fought them every step of the way.
Inside, Derra was standing with wide, frightened eyes, gripping a kitchen knife
and shaking.
"What
do we do, Mendel?" She asked. Even her voice trembled. "What do we
do?"
"We
go out the window in your workroom." He pointed at the door through which
Derra had first appeared. "Keep the house between us and it, and get the
hell away from here."
"But
my workroom... all my things..."
"They'll
still be here when we get back."
"What
about Stan?" Beranwen asked. The mechanical man had almost been forgotten,
lying quietly on the table where he had been left. "Quinton, can you carry
him?"
"I
have to fight the Garrasi."
"No,
Quinton, you don't. A Mad Man is supposed to have men to lead into battle,
people to fight at his side. None of us are soldiers. This isn't your army. We
can't fight this, so all we can do is run."
As
if to emphasise her words, there came a crash at the door. The jagged stump of
a pincer jutted through the hole that it had already made and tore more wood
out of its frame. Quinton stared at it with fear and stubbornness.
"Stan
needs your help, Quinton." Beranwen whispered. "I need you to do
this. Please. Do this for me."
Finally,
Quinton stopped struggling. As he turned to pick Stan up, Beranwen became aware
of another argument going on.
"...delicate
work, and it will ruin everything."
"Derra,
we can replace your work. We can't replace you. Don't be stubborn..."
"I'm
not being stubborn." Derra argued stubbornly. "My work is important.
It's going to smash it all, and it'll take ages to redo it."
There
was another crash at the door, and the wood finally gave up. Tossing the scraps
away, the beetle-like head began forcing its way in through an opening that was
slightly too small. The door frame began to buckle as it snapped at anything it
could reach.
"If
I have to carry you out, Derra, I will."
"You
wouldn't dare. I'll scream."
"You'll
die if I don't." Mendel reached out to pick up a suddenly-scrabbling
woman, who shouted loudly and pulled away.
"Let
me go, let me go! I won't let it ruin my work."
Beranwen
found later that she could recall every detail of that moment. Quinton had Stan
over his shoulder and was moving towards the workroom. Mendel was reaching
wildly across the table, trying to grab any part of Derra he could reach. And
Derra herself...
The
small, nervous woman ran with her knife out straight at the monster in the
doorway, and stabbed right where the pincers met the head. It seemed to
Beranwen that the creature had begun scrabbling to retreat before Derra had
even reached it, and when the knife drove home it gave a high screech that
could make bones turn to water, yanked itself free of the splintered wall, and
fled.
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