Craig shifted sharply. His disc's edge dropped. Before Narla's attacker could twist or duck, the edge hit him.
He bounced backward, out into empty air, flailing wildly. The handle of his whip sang by Craig's head.
With a desperate lunge, the Earthman caught it ... clung to it while Narla swung in a wide arc beneath him.
The stranger's scream died in the thud of his body striking.
Sweat-drenched, gasping, Craig maneuvered his own disc down till Narla's feet were on the ground once more. Another moment, and he was stumbling to her, hugging her shaking body to his. "My darling ... my darling...."
How long did they stand so? An hour? A minute?
Only then, at last, they were no longer shaking. Once more, Craig could taste her lips and smell her fragrance and feel the softness of her hair as it rippled like ripe rangeland grasses.
But with that consciousness came other things—a far-off scream ... a panic-straut knot of djevoda, fleeing ... the faint, rank distant scent of the ourobos.
Away, beyond the barrier, the amplifier bellowed, "Give up my daughter, Baemae! Give up my daughter and the alien!"