River of Porcupines by G. K. Aalborg

Author:G. K. Aalborg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2018-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Garth Cameron circled the fire cautiously, but clumsily, and cursed himself for his own stupidity. He had sorely underestimated his opponent who had shouted, “Mad Wolf has taken the spirit of Wawaskesiw!”

When he’d flung the old man across the fire, he had expected the wizened madman to be out of the fight almost immediately.

Crazy, perhaps, and certainly old, but the man who called himself Mad Wolf had forgotten more about knife fighting than Garth would learn for years to come. The old man had twisted in mid-air, landed almost on his feet, and grasped a knife from beside the flames even as he came upright.

Now Garth panted as he felt his strength already leaving him. The left sleeve and the front of his elk-skin shirt were black with blood, and he could feel his vision blurring, his eyes glazing over with anger and shock.

Mostly anger, which was what kept him alert as he and Mad Wolf circled the fire, each with a knife in one hand, each making little feinting movements but not quite coming to grips.

In the first encounter, to Garth’s surprise, the old man had leapt the fire, slashed right and left in a blur of motion, then leapt back again, leaving Garth with a useless left arm and a shallow but painful cut across his lower chest.

Only his youthful reflexes had kept him from losing the fight with that first engagement, he knew. Resolved not to die foolishly, he ceased being overconfident and fell into a deadly, serious calm. Not even Ilona’s gasp when she looked up and recognized him could distract his attention from the fight.

It seemed it would go on forever, this cautious circling, turning, circling in the other direction, but then Mad Wolf erupted with a defiant scream and leapt forward in a series of flashing thrusts. Sparks flew as Garth countered with his own knife and then, awkwardly, put all his strength into a right-handed shove that drove the old man back.

Pain and loss of blood were beginning to tell on Garth, and the knowledge drew Mad Wolf into a flurry of attacks. Always, Garth managed to counter, but each effort cost him in strength, and he couldn’t do much more than defend himself.

Realizing he had to end the fight soon or succumb to his growing weariness, he eased closer and closer to the fire, deliberately feigning weakness. Then, in a last-gasp spurt of energy, he kicked into the flames, throwing a cloud of ashes and smoldering coals at his naked opponent.

Recoiling from the hot coals, Mad Wolf was thrown slightly off balance. Before he could recover, Garth planted a well-aimed kick to the old man’s groin.

Clutching at himself in agony, Mad Wolf staggered away, seeking room to maneuver. It brought him within reach of Ilona’s position, and she thrust out with both feet against the small of his back, throwing him forward almost into the fire and directly into the arc of Garth’s flashing knife. The weapon flashed downward, then up in a bloody curve, and the old man crumpled to the earth.

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