Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign - By Phillip Jones Page 0,87

beyond the outlet. There was a drastic drop in elevation that caused a temporary lapse in concentration. The movement of the water was fierce and created a powerful sound. He shook his head and turned his attention to the rock beyond. Jumping seemed possible, yet intimidating. The gushing torrent would kill him if he fell, but if he did not jump, he would be left vulnerable to whatever was stalking him.

George removed a torch from his pack and lit it with an old cigarette lighter he had in his pocket when he was taken from Earth. He tossed the torch to the rock beyond to offer additional light to the landing area, counted to three and then jumped.

When he landed, he collapsed, cried out and grabbed his right ankle. He rolled into a seated position and removed his boot. Keeping the corner of his eye on the forest and his head lowered, his face was unable to hide his anguish. He was sure that whatever was stalking him could see the concern on his face, and his weakness had to be penetrating the dusk like a beacon.

He rubbed his ankle, put his boot back on, wincing as he did, and tied it tight for support. He stood and tried to take a step, careful not to put too much weight on his foot. But he fell again and grabbed his ankle. Reacting like a wounded animal, he groaned as he fought the urge to scream.

As the sun split the horizon, shadows lengthened. Then, as if a switch had been turned on, a loud, horrifying roar filled the air. Out of the forest, a large, dark figure made its way toward him—slowly at first, then faster as the beast began to run.

George hobbled to his feet, put his weight on his good leg, and then clenched both fists. His heart pounded out of control as the thumping footsteps grew louder. Once the beast was close enough, it launched into the air. But before the monstrosity could land on the first stone, George corrected his posture and balanced his weight on both perfectly good ankles. Man, I hope this works, he thought. His injury, a ruse to flush out his attacker, was no longer needed. Raising his right hand, he screamed, “Stop!”

The beast landed on the first stone and prepared for his final spring that would send him crashing into his prey. His legs uncoiled, but three of his four paws remained trapped on the stone. The weight of the beast’s upper body continued forward as his free paw bridged the gap. The cat swiped at George’s legs, grazing one of them with his claw and sending the human spinning toward the edge of the stone he was standing on.

The unbreakable spell of the snare scroll George had used on the first stone when he knelt caused the beast’s weight to pendulum forward into its surface. The creature’s face smashed into the boulder before the rest of his body. One of his legs, his neck, and the lower portion of his jaw crunched on impact, filling the air with horrid cracking sounds.

Despite the beast’s advance being halted, the damage had been done. George’s legs had been swiped from under him, and he was now dangling from one of the jagged protrusions of the boulder’s exposed face above the unforgiving rapids that crashed against the rocks below. He struggled to pull himself up, the rough edges of the stone were cutting into his forearms. It took every last ounce of his strength to save himself, and as he got his leg up and over the edge, he rolled over the top to safety.

With George’s chest heaving to catch his breath, the massive creature let out a cry of pain so deafening that he had to cover his ears. George stood and retrieved his torch. Looking down at his leg, he noticed the lower portion of his right pant leg had been shredded. The material was saturated and blood was flowing from three gashes that had opened on the outside of his calf. The wounds were wide, but not too deep. The beast’s claws had hit their mark and his leg burned like hell.

George reached for his pack, rifled through it and searched for anything to stem the flow of blood. There was nothing other than his Gucci shirt. Damn it! I should have thought about first aid, he thought.

He ripped the left sleeve off the garment and used it as a tourniquet, but