The Proving of Champions, Chapter 21
In which Fleta and the tarasque fight to the death.
The air was dead still, but the trees around the tarasque began to stretch and roll, stirring the tarasque's rotten breath throughout the canopy. The soldiers, scouts, and disciples all dropped to grab hold of the bark before the tree limb rolled them out into space.
"That beast could have devoured a hundred of us," Peace with Others spoke in shock. "An a hundred would not have been able to move trees like this."
"The bridge!" Bertram shouted.
Terrell shouted back to Bertram. "Have the colony use Fleta's speed, gather and secure everyone but Fleta and me to the bridge, and cut the rope."
"Are you--"
"Do it now!" Terrell shouted, and Bertram immediately brought the fungus exile's tendrils to his head. Daralis was shouting orders, organizing nervous soldiers onto a bridge, beginning to wave like shaking a ribbon. No sooner did the women and men make it to the bridge than Peace with others tied them to it with a three-point harness. Fleta struggled to rise, using glaive-Alexei as a staff and extending a hand to a shaking Terrell.
"Skald," Fleta shouted over the groan of humungous, waving branches. "I can harry the beast better on my own."
"But you're not alone,” Terrell spoke quietly above the din in the piercing tones of his gift. “And we will not just harry the beast. I will help you defeat it. Just get me to it."
"Wait!" Marina shouted. She clung to the tree, letting the other soldiers and scouts go first. Welkris clung to the burls behind her. Marina pressed a bandolier containing a single steel flask into Fleta's hands. "For your injuries. If they hurt too much, this will keep you on your feet.” Marina hesitated, then raised her voice as the branch creaked. “Only use it as a last resort!"
Fleta nodded, and then the bough dropped several feet. Fleta landed hard on her weak ankle, clutching at Marina's bandolier as it almost flew from her hand. Righting herself, Fleta fastened the bandolier over her shift but under her tunic. Alexei’s sheath crossed over the tunic, but only around her neck and shoulder, so neither impeded her from pulling the broad folds of her tunic out of her belt and gliding. Fleta didn’t want to be caught climbing down a tree with a hungry tarasque eyeing her. A line from the bridge behind them snapped, and Peace with Others was there, repairing the tear with a length of rope from somewhere.
Welkris pulled Marina onto the bridge with the last of the soldiers.
"Hop on my back!" Fleta shouted to Terrell.
"Pride is the last thing to go!" he gave her a grim smile before climbing on her back like an oversized child. The awkward weight, the higher point of balance, was familiar since the last time Terrell and Fleta faced the tarasque together.
Tied at the bottom of the rope bridge, Bertram struggled to saw through the strong cords with a knife. He strained against his makeshift harness. Fleta waved him back and swung Alexei, severing the flapping bridge and shaken soldiers. Fleta’s people swung on the bridge, now a loose rope ladder, away into the branches. As Fleta jogged back to the trunk, passing Alexei back to Terrell for sheathing, the branch swung towards the maw of the tarasque below. Then, the trunk started to tip.