The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

But there was no time to change things now. She would have to do the best she could.

She took a defensive stance as the cat demon stalked her, remembering anew how close it had come to killing her at both of their previous meetings. She had fought it with every ounce of strength and every shred of skill she could muster, and still she would have died both times if not for an intervening fate. She could not count on that here. She did not think she could defeat this creature, did not think she could kill it and not be killed herself. Yet that was what she must find a way to do. She must forget the odds, ignore the past, and change the outcome she was certain awaited her.

Suddenly she noticed something she had both missed and forgotten. The demon had only one eye. Simralin had put out the other with one of her knives when it had attacked them in Ashenell days earlier. A black hole was all that remained. She felt a sudden surge of hope. If it could only see from one side, perhaps she had a better chance than she believed.

And if she could manage to put out the other eye…“Madre de Dios,” she whispered.

The demon came at her in a sudden rush, hurtling across the short distance that separated them, claws digging into the ice, tearing up white tufts that sprayed the hazy air. Angel swung the tip of her black staff into position and sent the Word’s magic hammering into her attacker. The demon was knocked sideways, sprawling across the snow, spinning to a stop.

Without any sign that it was damaged in the least by what she had done to it, the demon came back to its feet and began advancing anew.

Three times it charged Angel, and three times it was sent flying backward.

It hadn’t gotten within six feet of her when it rose to come at her a fourth time, but she could see now what was happening. The demon was forcing her to use up her strength on attacks that were meaningless. It was breaking her down a little at a time, draining her so that eventually she would not be able to defend herself. Angel could tell that the strategy was working.

The demon was much stronger than she was and could absorb more punishment.

Nothing she was doing was having the remotest effect on it; she, on the other hand, was already tiring.

The feeders could sense her weakness and were slowly tightening the circle about her.

She had to do something to turn things around. She thought of Johnny. What would he tell her to do? Use the tools you have at hand.

The demon came at her again. She reacted, but not quickly enough. The demon was on top of her before she could bring the magic to bear.

She caught it on the broad length of her staff as it leapt for her, falling backward as she did so, letting the demon’s weight carry it right over her. The maneuver worked. The demon tumbled away into the snow, legs thrashing. But searing pain lanced down her right side as claws tore through her clothing and into her flesh.

She ignored the pain, coming back to her feet swiftly, turning to face it anew. Feeders were clinging to her, trying to devour her, but she flung them away.

Use the tools you have at hand.

It rushed her again almost instantly, attacking in the same fashion. But this time she was ready for it. Johnny’s words had triggered an idea, and she knew all at once what she must do. She did not try to slow it with her magic; she let it come. Again it hurtled into her, bearing her to the ground, trying to pin her in place so that it could tear her apart. Again she caught it on her staff. But this time she tucked her legs against her body as it knocked her backward, boots pulling free of the ice, the wicked metal teeth of her crampons levering toward the demon’s belly. As it landed on top of her she kicked out, jamming the crampons against the beast’s exposed underside and ripping downward with all the strength she possessed.

The demon screamed. She had never heard a scream like this, a terrible wrenching cry that echoed all across the mountain slopes and the valleys beyond. She felt flesh and muscle give way beneath her boots, saw blood spurt everywhere. The beast clamped its jaws on one arm and her staff as well, but she used the magic to keep those jaws from closing all the way and the teeth from tearing off her arm.

An instant later it broke away, rolling across the snow in a tangle of blood and scales and ragged flesh, feeders clinging to it in black patches.