The crimson witch

soldier!”
        “Perhaps.”
        “What will they do?”
        Kaliglia snorted again. “Whatever it is, it will not be pleasant.”
        “I think you were right,” Jake said grudgingly.
        “About what?”
        “About Lelar.”
        “What an awful time to have to waste the pleasure of saying I told you so.”
        And the manbats dived.
        Six of them together.
        They had devised a shrewd strategy indeed.
        Down…
        Kaliglia bit at one, spat it out demolished. He swung his long neck and struck at another, ripping it apart with a violent jerk of his jaws. It did not even have time to scream. But the four others got by the wicked jaws and swooped in on Jake. Backed as he was against the flank of the huge reptile, only two could squeeze in to approach him at once-and squeezed as they were, he slashed from the left to the right with his knife before they could reach him. Left to the right-then back again, hacking their faces. Back and forth, driving them backwards until they fell, screaming and wiping blood from their ruined eyes. The next two danced in, one behind the other, having learned from the fate of the two that had gone before them. Their purpose was to hit him so closely that he could not swing fast enough to take them in close succession. Three more dived. Kaliglia got one.
        The first manbat chittered loudly in a savage war whoop, lifted itself with beating wings, raked claws down Jake's cheeks. Blood sprang up in rivers inside and outside his mouth. He staggered, slid down the dragon's flank. The second manbat swept in and was upon him. He swiped feebly at it with his knife, but all his strength had left him. His arms ached and seemed to weigh nearly a ton apiece. His face was aflame with unbearable flame, and he could just swallow the blood as fast as it poured into his mouth from his damaged face. The manbat screamed wildly with knowledge of its success and swiped claws at his glazed eyes…
        And was gone…
        Gone!
        He sat waiting for the blindness to strike him, for the darkness to flash permanently across his sight. But the day went on, void of manbats. He sat for a moment, unable to believe that they had disappeared without killing him, that they were gone and he was, temporarily at least, safe. Then, weakly, supporting himself against Kaliglia's side, he got to his feet. His knees wobbled and threatened to buckle, but he steadied himself, determined to witness whatever miracle had transpired.
        The sky was free of manbats.
        The bodies that had littered the earth were gone.
        Only the Crimson Witch floated in the sky.
        “You,” he choked, blood surging out of his cheeks.
        “Me,” she affirmed from her lofty perch on nothingness.
        “But why?”
        “I wanted you for myself . I want to kill you.”
        He couldn't help himself. He laughed, was suddenly conscious of the blood thick in his mouth, and toppled forward into darkness…

Chapter Seven: THE CRIMSON WITCH
        
        She stretched the man out on the ground, shooing the dragon away despite its protests that it might be of some assistance. She lifted his lids, felt his pulse, listened to the beat of his weakened heart. She wiped the blood away from his cheeks with the hem of her robe and examined the claw cuts there. They were deep, completely through the flesh so that she could pull apart the edges and see into his mouth. The flow of blood must soon be staunched, or he would die. She reached out with her mental fingers and found, to her surprise, that Kell had built his defenses against only aggressive magics. Talents used to heal or help him would work on him. She was suddenly angry with that old bitch Kell, and she snorted her contempt.
        Almost, she stood and left to let him bleed to death. But then her hands were trailing over the ruin of his face, and she was remembering what he had looked like, how like she pictured a god would look come down fresh from the holy mountains. The cuts began to heal even as she thought. When she realized what she had begun, she stopped with a start, then shrugged and continued the process. Slowly but visibly, the flesh sealed together and the flow of blood ceased. The scar tissue formed, remained and hardened for a few minutes, then peeled and fell away. Where the cuts had been, there was only soft, pink flesh. Still, she concentrated until the new skin