Free The Ancient Enemy by Christopher Rowley

hold him up and they set off again once they'd tied a strip ripped off Thru's shirt around Meu to hold his arm tight against his chest so it wouldn't move as he ran.
    The donkey responded to its new freedom by running away down the trail for a hundred paces, then losing its breath and slowing to a crawl. When they caught up it sped off again.
    Meu was consumed by the determination not to become pyluk meat. He kept putting one foot in front of the other despite the pain.
    They crossed the Dupple Stream on a solid wood bridge, then passed down through a glade in the giant redwoods. Shafts of sunlight fell through gaps between the mighty trees, and far above was a strip of blue sky. The long glade came to an end in a thick stand of trees where the trail passed into semidarkness. Beyond that, after a mile or so came the beginnings of civilization. There was a small polder farm by the lake and a road into the village.
    Thru looked back for any sign of the pursuit. The Assenzi halted and raised a hand, and both of them strained to detect a sound.
    The woods behind them were noticeably quiet, however.
    "They are not far behind now," said Utnapishtim.
    "We will have to fight them, then."
    "There, ahead, where the trail goes through those redwoods."
    They let the donkey go on, Meu staggering along behind it, while they hid behind the trees one on either side of the trail.
    Thru nocked his last steel-tipped arrow and kept watch on the trail behind them through a crack between the main trunk and a sapling. The Assenzi had drawn his sword. They waited.
    The woods behind fell silent. The birds had sensed the pyluk. There was only the slightest breeze in the trees to break the hush.
    Then he saw them, loping along, four strong, the pyluk with their deep chests, metallic green skin, and hot yellow eyes. Two of them bore shoulder wounds, streaks of dried blood down their sides, but still they sprang along, tails extended stiffly out behind. Pyluk were notoriously hard to kill.
    They were just beyond effective bowshot, so Thru held off from shooting. Another ten yards and they would be in range. And then the pyluk abruptly disappeared, slipping into the shadows under the trees.
    Thru and the Assenzi waited in their hiding place. It was as good as any ground for fighting from. Nothing seemed to move in front of them. Utnapishtim cast around himself for a trace of the lizard men. He could feel them, they were there, but he could not say where exactly.
    Then suddenly a broken tree limb was hurled toward them from a patch of ferns to their right. Behind it came the pyluk, charging forward with death in their eyes.
    Thru turned, aimed and released, and took one of the pyluk through the heart. His last steel bodkin was gone. He nocked a smaller arrow, aimed and released all in an instant. The nearest of the pyluk sprouted a shaft from its side and screamed horribly, but it kept coming, long talons at the ready.
    Thru didn't have time for another arrow. He drew his sword just as the pyluk came up to the tree. It slashed at him with a heavy hand. He ducked underneath at the last moment, came up inside, and drove his sword into its belly. It gave a hiss of rage and shoved him away. The sword came free, and he bounced off the tree and fell back into the pyluk's grasp. It tore at his back and tried to bite his face, but he got an elbow up and blocked it while he ran his sword back into its belly. It went down on one knee, then collapsed. Blood ran from his arm, where the thing's jaws had closed on him.
    To his right now the Assenzi's sword flashed and a pyluk spun away, disemboweled, blood flung wide as it rolled on the path. Thru saw no more because he was suddenly borne down by the one leaping from the left. He hit the ground with stunning force under the thing's heavy body. It slashed at him with its claws, raking him down the side of his face and chest. He heard himself scream as he struck upward with his left hand and connected with the point of the