It was me or the Vrika.
There was no need to contemplate what was to be done.
The borog’s body was like living stone beneath me. A writhing, bristling mass of monstrous energy beneath the unyielding durability of its surface. I hurled my bow away, fighting to hold on while grasping my blade with my other hand. I did not try to use my blade back here. It would be futile. It would probably snap my only hope of ending this.
The borog made feral sounds of rage as it fought to keep its hold on the Vrika. The Vrika was entirely silent besides the sounds of its body against the stone. I’d thought the two were battling, but now I realized the peaceful Vrika was fighting only to free itself.
It had no real weapons if its own.
But it had me.
Part of the Vrika’s tail was wedged beneath the right, front shoulder of the borog. This kept the monster partially elevated off the ground. Just enough space for a man to crawl beneath it. My heart throbbing in me like a wound, I slid down the hardcurve of the side of the borog’s head and burrowed my way beneath its chest.
Perhaps absurdly, I was reminded of mere moments ago. Nazreen’s little toes, wiggling their way beneath my thigh.
Thoughts of her only renewed my purpose as the borog’s mass bucked and convulsed above me, threatening every other moment to crush me. With barely enough space to do it, I wrenched myself onto my back, shoving with my legs and my tail until I saw it. There was no mistaking the creased area of flesh above me now, swollen and pulsing with the lifeforce of its terrible blood.
I had planned for this moment. As well as one could, anyway. I had imagined that perhaps I might be able to angle myself in such a way that the spill of the burning blood might not be lethal. That perhaps I could somehow direct it more at my legs, or maybe a single arm if I only managed to find the right place. But I knew now such a thing would be impossible. I would barely be able to get my arm and blade up to stab at the right place as it was. Every breath I breathed threatened to be my last – the borog’s mass could crush me before I ever got the chance to harm it. It would be a death entirely without purpose. A death that did nothing to protect the Vrika, my people. Or Nazreen.
I might not get another chance. It had to be now.
I grunted and strained to get my blade into position, its tip aimed at the pulse point.
I remembered Nazreen as I’d first seen her in the dark.
I remembered her the first time that she’d laughed.
I remembered her face down in the dust of the valley, bleeding from her head.
And then I thought of her as I’d just left her. Asleep in bed. Safe.
Because I would keep her safe.
Calm with purpose, I tensed every muscle in my body and shoved my blade inside.
The borog reacted at once, releasing the Vrika’s tail immediately and roaring. I wrenched my blade, splitting more skin.
And the blood poured down upon me.
There was no way to escape it. No way to protect myself from it. It was as if I’d just stepped beneath a waterfall.
In that moment, I did not feel pain. But I heard the sizzle of my own flesh. The Vrika’s tail slipped out from the borog’s shoulder. The loss of that support sent the borog crashing down on the right side.
Even in my current state, barely breathing, blinded by black smoke, some instinct for survival lived on. With the last of my strength, I dragged myself out from beneath its dying body. Then, beside it, I collapsed.
I accepted death like Nazreen’s arms around me. It pulled me up, up, up. Into the sky.
If I could see anything from my eyes now, would I see my own corpse upon the ground?
But the sensation of rising ended abruptly. Something solid now, behind my back. And the poison bloom of agony moving in.Everywhere.
My body was nothing but the scorching demolition of pain. I could not breathe. Could not open my eyes or swallow. This was how my uncle had died.
Perhaps now, after all the ways I’d failed him, I had finally done him honour. Though the weakest parts of me cursed the fact that I had not been crushed and killed immediately after stabbing the borog.
But even a few more moments of this torture was a little more time in the world that had Nazreen in it. I thought of her, saved now from the borog as my people were. And I endured.
And as if the very thought of her had a cleansing quality upon me, like the silvered fall of gentle rain, bit by bit, the pain began to recede. Likely, this merely meant I was dying. But I kept her fixed in my mind anyway. So that she would be the last thing with me.
