Free The League of Sharks by David Logan Page A

realized that the birdman was coming straight for him, it was too late to react. The birdman swooped. His long, sinewy legs uncurled from beneath him and his vice-like talons latched violently on to Junk’s shoulder. Junk howled as the birdman pumped his massive wings and started to rise.
    As Junk’s feet lifted off the ground, something flashed past him. Something big, moving fast. Garvan. He must have been following him since he escaped the cabin. Junk had never been free at all.
    Garvan jumped into the air and wrapped one of his great hands around Junk’s ankle. The birdman let out a wail that was pitched somewhere between a squawk and a furious roar as Garvan’s immense weight pulled Junk downwards. Snorting with exertion, the birdman flapped his wings even harder and rose a little. Garvan strained, his back expanded as his muscles tensed. Junk cried out in pain as the birdman’s claws sank further into the flesh of his shoulder.
    They were getting dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. If they went over, Garvan would have to let go of Junk or risk snapping him in two. His feet just touching the ground, Garvan started to pull back. He got a hand on to the birdman’s leg. Bellowing from the depths of his throat, the birdman let go of Junk instantly, deciding escape was the better option at this point, but Garvan reached up further still, burying his hand in the feathersaround the creature’s abdomen, and brought him crashing to the ground. Junk was thrown aside and went skidding across the loose dry soil. He noticed Garvan’s bow and a quiver full of arrows nearby. The thought occurred to him that he could try shooting the creature, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately. The bow was designed to Garvan’s proportions, not his. He looked up to see Garvan and the birdman wrestling, rolling over and over. The birdman emitted a furious hiss and its razor-sharp beak snapped at the dusty air around Garvan’s face. They were getting closer to the cliff edge.
    â€˜Frank!’ Junk called. It wasn’t clear if Garvan had heard him, but he suddenly twisted his body savagely around, away from the drop. In one swift movement, Garvan was on his feet and, holding the birdman by the ankles, he slammed him down on the ground repeatedly until the creature didn’t move any more. Its human-looking mouth was twisted open and a long, rasping gurgle dribbled out. Garvan kicked the dead birdman over the edge of the cliff and looked out to sea.
    Junk lay on the ground and stared up at the sky. He was shaking with fear and pain. His shoulder was throbbing and bleeding, but he saw that the jacket Garvan had made for him had taken the brunt of the birdman’s grip and only the very tip of one claw had got through. He knew he should probably be running right now, putting distance between himself and Garvan before the latter could take him captive again, but that just didn’t seem important any more. The thought occupying the forefrontof his mind was that he quite clearly was not on Earth any more. Maybe he should have realized earlier when confronted with a four-metre-tall behemoth like Garvan, but he had honestly just thought he was some sort of freak of human nature. Human being the pivotal word. He couldn’t think that about the birdman. There was no way that was human. That was most definitely alien, and alien meant another planet. Junk was on another planet.
    The only thing was, he would have expected an alien world to be, well, more alien. OK, flying birdmen is pretty alien, but the sky was blue, the sea was wet, the ground was dusty, the trees looked like trees. Part of him would have been less surprised to see green clouds and purple grass.
    Junk was ripped from his thoughts by Garvan pulling him sharply to his feet by his collar.
    â€˜Hey! Take it easy, will ya?’ Junk snapped without thinking. He regretted it immediately. ‘I just mean I could’ve done