With his hiding place discovered, Jahnt leaped suddenly erect from the
shadows of a rocky niche. A knife was in his hand. I was nearest to
him. I leaped. But I had miscalculated my abnormal heaviness. I hit
the rocks a few feet short of him, stumbled, almost went down. As my
arms flailed I saw him over me, his pointed face demoniac with lustful
triumph, his knife stabbing at my chest.
There was a whirring of wings, and a glistening body went past my head.
Meeta. The ten inches of her elfin form flapped and struck Jahnt in
the face. He hit wildly at her with his left hand, went off balance,
with his knife-thrust going wild; and collided against me so that I
was able to fling my arms around him. Then my left hand caught his
wrist, twisted and the knife fell away. We went down, locked together,
rolling. And suddenly I felt the knife hit my hand. Meeta with swift
agility had retrieved it and brought it to me. The lithe Jahnt, far
stronger than he looked, was momentarily on top of me. I seized the
knife, stabbed upward into his chest; and with a choked cry he went
limp, fell forward on me.
I scrambled to my feet. Jahnt wasn't quite dead, but obviously dying.
Jim and I bent over him.
"You got away with the weapons?" Jim muttered. "Or are they still
around here?"
"Curtmann has them. My little Midge flew to him, and came back with
some of Curtmann's men. They left just a little while ago. I--showed
them how to use the weapons. You will--be defeated by Curtmann. You
damned--"