The Fox Run

Chapter Twenty-Six

Saxon was toying with Blade. The giant knew he had the longest reach, and the machete added to his leverage, the Bowie being fourteen inches shorter. He swung the machete again and again, almost lazily, displaying his contempt, forcing Blade to back away.

For his part, Blade was using this game to gather his energy. After the battle with the wolverines, he was winded, tired, and feeling the loss of blood from the wounds covering his body. The wolverine’s claws had caused considerable damage. He glanced at Jenny, still staring mutely at Angela. What was the matter with her? Was it shock?

Saxon caught the glance, and promptly misinterpreted it.

“Don’t worry about her,” the giant teased. “I won’t harm her. I’m saving her for myself.” He grinned lecherously.

“You’ll never have her,” Blade rejoined harshly.

“Think so, eh?”

“I know so,” Blade confirmed.

Saxon bore down, his blows coming faster now, his playfulness gone.

Blade parried his opponent’s thrusts and slashes, continuing to retreat across the arena, away from Jenny.

“I must admit,” Saxon spoke even while fighting, “you are a worthy foe.

No one has dared face me in years.”

“You know what they say…” Blade managed to retort as he ducked beneath a sweeping blow.

“No.” Saxon chuckled. “What do they say?”

Blade scurried away from another stabbing thrust. He paused, smiling, strangely appreciative of this colossus of a man. “The bigger they are…”

“…the harder they fall,” Saxon finished for him. “Yes, I’ve heard that one.”

“I don’t suppose,” Blade said lightly, “I could prevail upon you to surrender?”

“What?” Saxon laughed. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

For some time, from outside the swinging doors, came the sound of gunfire and screaming and yelling.

“That’s my men,” Saxon stated. “Finishing off whoever was with you.”

“It could be the other way around,” Blade reminded him.

Saxon glanced in the direction of the combat, his brow furrowed. “You could be right,” he mused. “We don’t have machineguns. The Watchers do, but we have a pact with them.”

“Watchers?” Blade said. “What are the Watchers?”

Saxon shook his head. “Sorry. I really must get outside.” Without warning, he flipped his machete at Blade.

Blade twisted, avoiding the machete, off balance, his back turned toward the giant for only an instant.

It was enough.

Saxon leaped, pouncing on Blade from behind, wrapping his mighty arms around the Warrior. He lifted Blade from the floor and applied pressure, squeezing, exerting his stupendous brute force.

Blade, caught in a steel vise, struggled and heaved, attempting to trip the giant and drop them to the ground. He surged against Saxon’s restraining arms until his own biceps and triceps bulged, to no avail.

“Why fight it?” Saxon hissed through clenched teeth. “Make it easy on yourself.”

Blade tossed and pitched, trying to butt Saxon with his head and kick him with his legs.

Saxon laughed.

Blade could feel the pressure building in his chest. He could easily imagine it caving in if he couldn’t break free.

Jenny was showing signs of life, looking around her, her green eyes blinking rapidly.

Blade’s face was reddening, his arms weakening, the sustained conflict taking its toll on his physique.

“You should never mess with the Trolls,” Saxon stated, straining even more.

Blade remembered his Bowie, still clutched in his right hand. A vital spot, a death stroke, was out of the question; they were out of his reach.

But there was one option…

“Blade!” Jenny was running his way, horrified at what she saw.

“I think I’ll have her for supper,” Saxon gloated.

Blade focused, aligning the Bowie. He gripped the handle and drove the blade upward, through the tunic, and into Saxon’s groin, slicing into the gonads and twisting the knife.

Saxon screeched and released Blade. He stumbled backwards, his hands groping his bleeding groin.

Blade dropped to the arena floor. He quickly hiked the tunic and found one of the Soligen throwing knives.

Saxon was doubled over, whimpering. His hands grabbed the Bowie and pulled, and he screamed as the knife jerked loose. He looked up at Blade.

“I don’t believe it!” he said, moaning.

Blade slowly stood, the Soligen hidden behind his right leg.

“Don’t leave me like this,” Saxon pleaded. “The pain! The pain!”

“I could take you prisoner, back to the Home,” Blade told him.

“Don’t leave me like this,” Saxon repeated. He looked down at the blood oozing from his ruined testicles. “Don’t leave me less than a man.”

Blade nodded once, understanding. The Soligen was up and on its way in the blink of an eye.

Saxon flinched as the thin blade penetrated his sloping forehead. His eyes closed and he toppled like a jumbo tree in the forest, his head striking the ground first, driving the knife even deeper.

“Blade!”

Jenny reached him, tossing the thigh bone aside. She hugged him and buried her face in his shoulder.

Blade held her, allowing his nerves to relax. Outside, all was quiet. What had happened? he wondered. He detected movement in the bleachers and tensed, then smiled when he recognized the Family women—Lea, Mary, Daffodil, Ursa, Saphire—and an elderly woman he did not know.

Or did he?

“Bless you, Blade,” this woman said. “Thank you for saving us from hell.”

“Do I know you?” he asked her.

“Know me? You used to sit on my lap and eat my cookies.”

“Nadine!” Blade realized, grinning. “Wait until Plato sees you.”

“Wait until I see him.” Nadine smirked. “I’ll probably wear the poor dear out the first week I’m home.”