Darkwell - Douglas Niles [73]
Immediately the other horses whinnied in terror, rearing and kicking frantically. Avalon sprang high, and a sharp kick of his forelegs knocked one of the monsters from the air. The stallion leaped upon the thing and pounded it to a pulp with his hooves. At the same time, half a dozen of the beasts swarmed around the chestnut mare. In seconds, she joined the pony on the ground, screaming as cruel teeth, claws, and antlers tore into her body.
Tristan reached the steeds and drove the monsters away with sharp swipes of his sword, but the mare kicked weakly and could not rise. All four of her legs were ripped badly, and one of her eyes had been poked out. Crying in pain, she lay upon the rocks, breathing quickly and heavily. With a sob, Robyn stepped forward and cut the mortally wounded horse's throat with a swift strike of her scimitar.
They looked around and saw that the entire flock had finally settled to the ground around the rim of their little shelter. Perched in sinister silence, the creatures chose vantage points beyond the range of Yak's rocks or the arrows of the halfling and the sprite. Now they resembled vultures more than hawks, with the hunched and patient appearance of carrion eaters. Their skeletal heads and sharp antlers added a surreal touch to the scene.
"Why don't they make some noise?" groused Pawldo. "At least they could screech or something!"
"And why did they stop attacking? Not that I'm complaining, of course!" The bard looked up in puzzlement.
"I suspect because they can't maneuver well in here," suggested the king. "The hollow is too small for them to attack from all directions."
"Wh-what are they – are they?"
"Corruption!" Robyn's voice was bitter but certain. "They are a living, breathing desecration of life itself, like that bear with the head of an owl. The god that is killing the vale is not content with the mere destruction of life. He must twist and pervert it to his own ends." And then her voice rose to a scream.
"He must be destroyed!"
The flock shifted nervously, several monsters flapping their wings or stepping awkwardly to a new perch. But they quickly settled back to their vigil.
"So they can't maneuver in here. That makes me wonder how we're going to get out," Pawldo reflected.
"That gully you mentioned last night," Robyn said to Tristan. "Could we get down it? And is it narrow and deep enough to keep these deathbirds from following us?"
"It's possible, but the horses could never make it. Even Canthus might have a hard time."
"What about waiting right here until they go away?" asked Tavish.
"That won't work," Robyn answered quickly, then told them about her experience with the deathbird that had waited three days for her to emerge.
"Can we cross the open ground out the front and fight our way to the woods?" the king wondered aloud. The answer was obvious to all of them. Although the confines of the grotto provided them temporary shelter, they would be torn to bits if they gave the flock ample room to attack. The gully began to look like the only solution.
"Mayhaps we can try the descent and get the things to follow us. One of us can wait behind and spook the horses. The steeds might have a chance to get away, at least." Tavish offered the only real possibility.
"Let's try it," agreed the king, trying to ignore the ache in his heart. "I'll stay back with the horses."
"No! Let me do that. You lead the way down the gully!" Pawldo argued hastily, albeit reluctantly. They all knew that the last one down would be in grave danger.
"Thanks, old friend. But, no, I will do this myself. Now get ready to go!" Tristan felt some small measure of pride in his role. Perhaps this was a way for him to begin his atonement.
The white stallion stood silently, watching them, and Tristan had the eerie feeling that Avalon had understood. He went to his steadfast mount and wrapped his arms around the horse's solid neck, leaning sadly into his broad flank. "Run for me, boy. Run like you've never run before! You can make it!"
They unsaddled