The crimson witch

neck, Jake jabbed the knife out, felt it crunch through facial tissue and cartilage-the light creatures seemed to have almost no bone as such-with a sickening gurgling noise. Blood fountained up around the hilt. He had caught the beast directly below the right eye, and the stab had been instantly fatal. He pulled the blade out, kicked the beast's body aside, and stood, swaying against the dragon.
        Another manbat dived.
        Jake brought his arms around, positioning the knife between his knees for the defensive swipe, but deep inside his body told him he could not adequately respond to another challenge so soon after the last battle. He was doomed, his aching arms weakened too much to move quickly enough…
        Suddenly the air was rent with a violent scream as Kaliglia shot his neck out, opened his enormous maw, and snapped the manbat right out of the air, crushing it between his vegetarian's teeth and dropping it to the ground. It wriggled for a moment, all broken, and finally lay still.
        “Congratulations,” Jake wheezed, gathering his breath.
        “We have to work together if together we wish to survive.”
        “Wise sayings yet?”
        “A Truth.”
        “What happened to your cowardice?”
        “You were the one who said I was cowardly, not I.”
        “I apologize again.”
        The great dragon sniffed haughtily and turned to regard the two remaining manbats that drifted cautiously out of reach of his slender neck and round, blunt, crushing teeth.
        The two manbats circled for a time, flapping whenever they came down too close to the dragon. Finally, the smallest of the two detached itself from the bare remnants of the formation and streaked back over the trees, cawing noisily. The first still flew above, eyeing the two ground creatures with distaste. It, too, Jake could see now, bore the insignia of the House of Lelar, the black leg band and the orange crescent.
        It seemed that they stood a long time, waiting for the remaining demon to make a move. Then, just as Jake was about to suggest they move on and to hell with it, the air was filled with the reverberation of beating wings…
        “Oh, no,” he heard himself mutter.
        The dragon muttered something equally appropriate.
        They watched the trees…
        Waiting…
        A dozen manbats came over the treetops, joining the lone sentinel that had kept guard over the two ground creatures for them. For many minutes, the group circled as a unit, evidently discussing the best way to attack. Perhaps five minutes later, a pair of bats detached themselves from the flight pattern and dropped like stones toward Jake where he stood backed against his companion's meaty thigh.
        Kaliglia snapped at the nearest, tore its left wing off. It plummeted to the ground and lay screaming and writhing.
        The second passed the mammoth jaws unharmed and swooped in on Jake. The man held the stance that had proven successful before, slightly crouched with the knife in both hands between his knees. At the last possible second, he gutted the demon, sweeping upward with the blade as its claws touched him, tossing it backwards into death…
        Above, the eleven remaining beasts seemed to go into consultation, swarming together and chittering furiously, now and then pausing to eye the man with his back against the dragon and the dragon with his long neck swaying back and forth, back and forth like some tremendous and deadly snake come alive on his shoulders.
        “They almost seem to be planning their strategy,” Jake heard himself saying. It sounded like a stranger's voice, distant and strained and very unreal. He was so very tired. His eyes fluttered to close, and he had to force them open by biting on his lower lip until the pain brought him fully awake. He tasted a thin stream of his own blood.
        “They probably are,” the dragon answered, clearing its throat with a base rumbling that shook its flank where Jake leaned.
        The response rattled him. “You mean they're intelligent?”
        “Somewhat.”
        “What does that mean?” His voice was so small and hoarse that he wondered how Kaliglia could understand it so readily.
        “They aren't as intelligent as you or I, but they have the cunning and basic vocabulary-in their own strange tongue-of a child of six or seven.”
        “And the blood lust of a thousand-year-old