Free Heights of the Depths by Peter David

to hear herself above the slurping of the Piri and the dwindling and pathetic moans of the bir.
    “Your future is of no interest to me. All that matters is that the Mistress warned you what would happen if you ran.”
    Clarinda slowly crawled across the ground toward him. She smiled up at him with as close to a look of seduction as she could manage under the circumstances. There was blood visible on her lips, her cheeks, her chin. She hoped that would serve to make her more alluring. “Come now, Bartolemayne. That cannot be all that matters to you. Certainly there are other things of equal importance.” She drew close enough to run her hand along his bare leg, straying up to his knee. “Those others,” and she inclined her head toward the Piri who were finishing their meal, “will do as you command. Command them to return home. Then it can be just you and me, and together we can…”
    “Together?” His double row of fanged teeth drew back in derision. “Together?” He lashed out with his foot and caught her on the side of the head. Clarinda fell to the side, hitting the ground heavily. “You are damned lucky that I am sworn to do you no serious harm. Not as long as you are with child. Still…do you seriously think there can be any ‘together’ with one who has defiled herself with a Trull, no less? A Trull? Or do you think your mother neglected to tell me that?”
    “Lies, Bartolemayne,” she said desperately. “She lied to you. Or she was mistaken. Either way. You cannot believe that I would do such a thing.”
    “Tragically, I can believe it all too readily. I know you of old, Clarinda. You always had nothing but contempt for your own people. And every Piri male and female knew that, and tolerated it because you were daughter of the Mistress and heiress to the title. That is not going to continue to be the case, however, and I assure you of this, Clarinda: As much as I journey this land, I will take time to return and be there for when you are finally made to pay for your arrogance and smugness. Once you have pushed that child out through your nethers, then there shall be a reckoning. The hybrid freak will be destroyed, and as for you—”
    Clarinda did not wait to hear. Instead she abruptly lunged forward, hoping to catch him unawares. Perhaps sink her teeth into the tendons behind his ankles, rip them out, hamstring him, render him helpless.
    She had no chance. Bartolemayne yanked his legs clear, deftly stepping out of her way. He grabbed her by the nape of the neck, yanked her to her feet and twisted her around so that she was facing away from him. He was handling her so effortlessly that one would have thought her a child having her parent’s will forced upon her. She tried to drive a foot back at him, but he caught it and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. He started to bend her backwards and she cried out.
    “Have you had enough?” he said patiently. “Are you through fighting?”
    Seizing bravado as her only option, she grunted through her pain, “You have absolutely no idea how much trouble you’re in. All I have to do is cry out and my army will descend upon you.”
    The other Piri, having sated themselves on the bir, were moving toward her and chuckling to each other.
    “Very well,” Bartolemayne challenged her. “Summon them. Let us tremble in fear at your army.”
    He could have throttled her, preventing her from drawing breath. He did not do so. That was how confident he was that she was bluffing, which of course she was.
    Nevertheless she filled her lungs and cried out as loudly as she was able, “To me! To me, my followers!”
    Nothing. Dead silence, save for the snickering of the Piri and a soft, almost disappointed sigh from Bartolemayne.
    “All right, Clarinda. Now it’s time to—” Suddenly Bartolemayne’s head snapped around. He looked bewildered. “What the hell—?”
    He had detected the scent first, but even if he had possessed no nose at all, the