Darkwell - Douglas Niles [72]
None of them slept well. Tristan and Robyn spent the night in lonely grief, each mourning the loss of their close friend. For the others, too, the combination of death among them and the universal death around them made for miserable rest.
Even so, dawn found them ready to move on again, if only to alleviate the stiffness and chills of a night spent sleeping on a bed of stones. They wasted little energy in conversation as they wrapped their meager bedrolls and started to load the horses. Tristan, looking nervously around the chill grotto, wondered what new horrors the day could offer.
Once again it was Canthus who saw the first sign of attack. With a sharp bark, the hound called their attention to the sky.
"Look out!" cried the king. "Look to the sky!" His sword came instantly to his hand, as if moved by a will of its own, and he raised it to meet the diving winged creatures above them.
A flock of birdlike forms swirled downward from the clouds, numbering two score or more. Many veered away from the narrow hollow, but several continued to dive right toward the party. They made no sound as they swooped in to the attack.
"What are those things?" wondered Pawldo aloud, swiftly nocking and drawing an arrow.
One of the creatures swished over Tristan's head, and he thrust at its belly but missed. He stared, amazed, at the staglike head of the creature and its black, cold eye sockets. Its pointed, misshapen antlers appeared deadly, as did the sharp claws on the monster's feet.
Pawldo loosed an arrow that darted through the wing of one of the creatures. The thing made no sound but settled awkwardly to earth, where Canthus set upon it with a growl and a flash of white fangs. The two creatures rolled across the ground in a blur of feathers, fur, antlers, claws, and teeth, until finally the moorhound stood with the monster's neck in its mouth. With one final shake, the dog cast the corpse aside.
Many of the winged creatures landed at the lip of the little grotto, perching like vultures waiting for the kill. Others swooped in aggressively to the attack. Yazilliclick and Pawldo sent arrows after these intruders, but the missiles whizzed harmlessly past their intended victims. Finally, in order to conserve arrows, they held their fire.
Tristan ducked as one monstrous bird flew over his head. Then he slashed savagely upward and sliced off its wing, killing the beast with one quick thrust as it flopped to the ground. Once again the Sword of Cymrych Hugh sang joyously in his hand.
"Rock!" Yak grunted from somewhere nearby.
"Yes, rock," Tristan panted, too distracted by the fight to pay attention to the firbolg.
"Rock… kill!"
Suddenly the giant pitched a stone the size of a man's head at one of the monsters perched on the rim of the grotto. The missile struck the creature in the chest, and it disappeared in a cloud of feathers.
Newt buzzed into the air and sank his teeth into the tail-feathers of one of the creatures, but the monster twisted and raked at him with its claws. Several more of the bird-things swarmed around the little dragon, and Newt disappeared with a shriek. He did not become visible again until he was safely on the ground, watching the battle from a vantage point between Robyn's ankles.
A shrill whinny of terror jerked Tristan's attention to the horses. Horrified, he saw Pawldo's pony pitching and rearing while three of the bird-things clung to its back. Their talons tore through the pony's skin, and then another of the monsters landed and drove its ghastly antlers into the poor steed's chest. With a squeal, the little horse fell heavily to the ground, where the beasts attacked with their sharp teeth.
The king raced toward the scene, with an inarticulate cry of rage. Before he reached the dying pony, he saw one of the creatures tear through the animal's breast with its razorlike teeth. It pulled forth