The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [74]
Preparing to dash the remaining distance, he took once last look behind him and paled. Smoky tendrils reached out from the doorway, flowing in and out of the snow and along the sides of the bridge. Through his boots he could feel the structure vibrating. Backing away from the tendrils' advance, he tried to think of anything that could stop them. A single voice interrupted his racing thoughts, whispering forlornly through the fog of sound that surrounded him. Most of what was said escaped him, eaten by distance and wind, but one pleading word reached his ears and sent him into a dead run for the west tower.
"… Bastun…"
The vibration in the bridge increased, and he pumped his legs as fast as he could. The snow ahead of him shifted as cracks spread through the structure. He stumbled, swearing an oath against King Arkaius and the magic he had wrought. The familiar sound of crumbling stone erupted behind him, and he cursed the paranoia that had drawn him to the Breath in the first place.
He felt one stone shift as his foot left it and he ran harder. With a held breath and a prayer he jumped.
Far below he heard the shattered bridge crashing to the ground. As his stomach slammed against the landing outside the tower and the air was forced from his lungs, he threw his weight forward. His legs swung over the edge, but he had enough purchase to pull himself forward and regain his footing.
Sounds of battle echoed from the door on his left, and he followed them. Torches flickered dimly in the storm. Men screamed and shouted oaths through the whistling wind, but Bastun's eyes first rested on the thrashing blot of darkness kneeling on the ground just yards away. A living gargoyle torn from night's fabric, the thing shook its victim, feeding and shaking the last vestiges of life from the body. It began to detach itself from the finished meal, its face featureless save for two wide eyes glazed over with death.
The eyes had haunted him from drawings found in dusty old tomes of vremyonni lore. The wings stretched out and shook-just as he had once imagined they would-as the embodiment of all his childhood fears raised up from his memory to regard him with hunger and a blank black visage. A nighthaunt.
He reached to his pouches, his stores of components and crafted magic, as the beast crawled over the drained corpse.
"Where is Bastun?" Thaena's whisper reached him and vaulted him into motion. The nighthaunt shuddered and pounced.
He abandoned magic and raised his staff, the axe blade blazing to life as he slashed at the thing. The creature changed its direction, twirling in flight with a grace that had nothing to do with wind or wing. Overbalanced by the swing, Bastun fell forward as the nighthaunt's tail whipped his shoulder. He spun with the strike, gasping at the burning touch of the creature even as he rolled into a crouch. He caught a quick glimpse of the others far down the bridge before turning to defend himself again with the axe.
He struck the nighthaunt's wing, feeling it tear through, but the leathery hide mended itself even as it was wounded. It turned and circled, preparing to dive again. Bastun ran, chanting and drawing a tiny bead of tree sap from his pouch. Following the forged path through the snow, he searched for signs of movement in the air.
In a blink it appeared before him out of thin air, rushing forward with gangly arms outstretched. At the last moment he fell flat on his stomach, enduring the pain of claws scratching at his back as the nighthaunt passed over and circled for another strike. Kissing his fist with a prayer to the Three, he hurled the tree-sap bead into its path.
He lost sight of the bead in the snow, but the nighthaunt's circle faltered. It shook its arm as tendrils of the sap grew, entangling its horns and wrapping around its wings. It fell from the air, writhing against the substance to disappear beyond the wall's edge. With a sigh of relief he rushed toward the others.
Screams came to him through the storm high overhead. The creatures were said to on occasion