Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [165]
“It always creeps your flesh,” Calonderiel remarked. “No matter how many times you see him do it.”
Jennantar nocked the first silver arrow in his bow. Slowly the moon rose higher. Jill kept a watch on the starry sky in the direction of the dun, but Calonderiel saw them first.
“Look!”
Jennantar raised the bow and drew, but it was another good minute before Jill saw a dark speck moving against the stars, the owl, flapping and gliding as fast it could. All at once she saw another bird, dropping down from high above, plunging, stooping, nearly catching the owl. Flying straight and steadily, the owl and the hawk raced for the trees, and the hawk was gaining. Muttering under his breath, Jennantar stood tense, waiting for the hawk to come in range. Nearer and nearer they flew, and the hawk was getting far too close to the owl. Jennantar swore and loosed, but the arrow fell short. The hawk plunged down and caught the owl, grappling with him in the air.
They fought exactly like real birds of prey—closing with each other high in the air, grappling and clawing as they fell, then breaking apart to fly up, circling each other to gain height again. Jill heard the hawk shriek with rage every time the weary owl twisted free. Every now and then, one great feather would fall to earth, flashing silver in the moonlight. Jill and Jennantar ran out into the meadow under the fight, but Jennantar didn’t dare shoot for fear of hitting the owl.
As they wearied in this unnatural battle, the two birds dropped, swooping closer to the ground, rising less high when they broke to grapple again. Shrieking and clawing at each other, they came down low, only to break apart and flap up again. The owl was tiring badly and rose slowly.
“Aderyn!” Jill screamed. “Drop low! Cursed low!”
Indifferent to her voice, the hawk stooped, plunged, and caught the owl. Down and down they dropped, and this time the owl made little effort to break free, merely slashed with its beak as they fell. Jill ran off to get a start, and waited tensely with the dagger in her hand—she would have only one chance at this—then raced across the meadow and leapt up, stabbing at the hawk. Its shriek of agony told her she’d made her strike as she dropped to her knees in the grass. She felt the rush of wings as the owl broke free and flew just in time to save itself from plunging into the ground. Jill staggered up just as Jennantar’s bowstring sang out.
Pierced to the heart, the hawk shrieked once and began to fall. In a flash of blue light it changed, so that for one hideous moment Jill saw something that was half hawk, half man, feather and flesh oozing into one another. Then it fell to earth with a sickening, perfectly ordinary thud. The owl called out a long cry of mourning and settled into the grass. It vanished cleanly, leaving Aderyn sitting there, bleeding from long claw slashes all over his body. Jill ran to him.
“We’ve got to staunch those wounds!”
Aderyn shook his head no and staggered up to lean on Jill’s shoulder. She half carried him over to join the two elves beside Loddlaen’s corpse. He lay twisted on his back, his face clawed, his thigh slashed open from the silver dagger, his chest pierced with the silver arrow. Aderyn raised his hands heavenward.
“It is over. Let him go to the halls of light for his judging. It is finished.”
Rolling across the meadow came three great knocks like thunder from a clear sky. Jill cried out, her blood running cold at the sound. Slowly Aderyn lowered his hands and glanced at the corpse. Even in the gauzy moonlight Jill could see that he was fighting with all his will to keep himself under control. Jennantar laid his arm around the old man’s shoulders and, whispering gently in Elvish, led him into the trees.
“Let’s get this lump of meat back to camp.” Calonderiel idly kicked Loddlaen in the head. “The sight