by Peter Wacht
"Yes, well, I had considered the possibility, but there were other things on my—"
"Actually, she's doing quite an excellent job of it."
"Job of what?" asked Gregory, his confusion obvious.
"Twisting you around her finger," chuckled Kaylie. "She's doing such a good job, you don't even know it."
"No woman can twist me around her finger," Gregory almost shouted in indignation. He looked around quickly, relieved that none of his men had heard him.
"Whatever you say, father," laughed Kaylie with delight, pleased that she could still tease him so easily. "Whatever you say."
She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Good night, father. I'm going to turn in." Kaylie rose from her place by the log and walked around the fire to where she had placed her blankets.
"Sarelle cannot twist me around her finger," Gregory protested a final time, but his daughter only laughed as she burrowed beneath her blankets.
Gregory got up as well, trying to get his mind thinking of other things. He began to make a circuit of their small encampment. All the guards stood their stations as they should, he noted, pleased by their discipline. Yet, as he walked from one soldier to the next, he picked up on their uneasiness. Several fingered the hilts of their swords as if they expected a fight.
It wasn't long before Gregory felt it as well, the sense that there was something in the dark of the forest that shouldn’t be there. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, especially when you didn't know the source. He shrugged it off. It was probably because they camped near the Burren. The stories of the dark and forbidding forest were legendary. But that's all they were. Stories. Nevertheless, before he turned in for the night he decided to double the guard. Just in case.
As he walked back toward the fire, his mind wandered back to the conversation he had just concluded with his daughter. Sarelle? Could Kaylie be right? She was extremely beautiful. And intelligent. And clever. But Sarelle? Why would she be interested in him? The whole thing confounded him. His hair had more grey than black, though he did have to admit that he was just as fit as he was when he was a youth. But Sarelle? He just couldn't believe it.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
Bloody Skirmish
Gregory woke with a start as shouts rang out in the small camp. The sun was still a distant wish. The perfect time for an attack, he thought, as he flung his blankets off and leapt to his feet, his sword already in his hand. He had considered taking off his boots before going to bed, but had decided against it because of the cold. He was glad that he did. He didn't have time to put them on.
Large black shadows that barely stood out against the early morning darkness flashed along the defensive perimeter established by his guards. Fearhounds — more than a dozen in all — and they were pushing his soldiers in toward the camp. He and his men had fallen into dire straits.
The beasts resembled large dogs, but that's where the resemblance ended. Many were the size of small ponies. Their jet-black fur made it extremely difficult to pick them out of the darkness. The only feature that remained visible for any extended period of time were their sharp, white teeth that rivaled many a dagger in size.
High-pitched howls tore through the night, setting the soldiers' teeth on edge. It was said the howl of a Fearhound sent bolts of terror through its prey, hence its name. Legend had it that these creatures, distant cousins to the wolves, followed the scent of fear. Once they had the scent, it was only a matter of time before they had the kill as well.
Gregory ignored the shivers of fear that ran up and down his spine and sprinted toward Kaylie. She had jumped up, her blankets tangled around her but her dagger in hand. At least she took Kael's words to heart. They had made camp at the base of the hill. None of the Fearhounds had come from that direction, so he pushed Kaylie behind him. His men had already formed a semicircle with their backs to the hill.
All his soldiers were veterans of dozens of border clashes, so there was no need for Gregory to give instructions. They knew the enemy they faced and what they had to do. Several more Fearhounds burst from between the trees to stand with the others, bringing the size of the pack to twenty. Counting his men, Gregory realized to his sorrow he had already lost five to the beasts. The odds definitely were not good. Still, he and his men would not go down without a fight.
He looked around the small glade, then up the hill, searching for a possible escape route for Kaylie. The only option he saw was going up the slope. But the Fearhounds would catch her easily even then. Cursing his luck, Gregory encouraged his men to hold strong. He knew in his heart, however, that it was a futile gesture.
Suddenly, the Fearhounds charged forward. His soldiers withstood the assault for several minutes, struggling valiantly to hold back the massive creatures. The men fought quietly, focused on their task and on their survival, their fear neatly locked away. Several nerve-shattering howls rose above the din of the swords striking out toward the beasts; the soldiers scored hits, yet to no avail. The skin of a Fearhound was almost as hard as rock, and though the beasts could be wounded, killing them was far from easy.
First one soldier was pulled down, and then another, and then another. Three bloody, red maws stared at Gregory as they feasted on their prey, their eyes promising that he would be next. It was a horrifying sight. His soldiers tried to close the breach in their defenses, but couldn't. The Fearhounds were too quick. Three beasts ran past the soldiers and sped directly for Gregory and Kaylie.
Gregory swung his sword in front of him in giant arcs, hoping the steel would keep the Fearhounds at bay. He saw the intelligence and cunning in their eyes now that they were so close. They would wait until he tired and then make their move. To speed up the process, the three Fearhounds split up. One remained in front of Gregory while the other two trotted to separate sides. Kaylie stayed behind her father, her dagger held at the ready as she spun from one side to the other on knees shaking with fear, trying to keep an eye on both Fearhounds.
The Fearhound in front of Gregory feinted forward. Just as Gregory moved to defend, the Fearhound on the left darted in as well. Gregory had expected that maneuver. Cursing their intelligence under his breath, he ignored the beast in front of him. Turning quickly, he swung viciously at the Fearhound moving in from his right. The Fearhound yelped more in surprise than pain as the steel bit into its flesh. However, what should have been a killing blow only resulted in a small slash across the beast’s chest that momentarily halted its progress. The Fearhound growled in anger and charged straight at Gregory. At the same time the other two leapt forward.
Try as he might, he just wasn't fast enough. His blade again met the rush of the Fearhound, biting deeper into the creature's shoulder. The beast’s rancid breath almost overpowered him. As the Fearhound staggered back, the one that had stood in front of Gregory leapt in the air, hoping to come down on his back. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Gregory rolled away from the attack and jumped back to his feet. But the Fearhounds had succeeded. They had separated Gregory from Kaylie. Two of the creatures approached Gregory, while the third, limping slightly from the injury to its shoulder, stalked toward his daughter.
As the screams of his men, fighting and dying just twenty feet away, echoed in his ears, all he could think about was how to save his daughter from the death that awaited her. Before the two Fearhounds could attack him, Gregory charged forward, swinging his blade wildly. If he was going to die this day, he would do it on his own terms, fighting to his last breath trying to protect his daughter.
Kaylie tried to reach her father as he attacked the Fearhounds, but the injured beast remained where it was, sizing up its prey. She stood there in shock as the Fearhounds cut her off from her father, not knowing what to do. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. She could barely stand as it was. Her knees continued to shake uncontrollably and her stomach did somersaults.
She thought of a dozen different ways to escape, but discarded them all, knowing in the end that it would
be wasted effort. All she could do was go down fighting, just like the other soldiers. Yes, like the other soldiers. That thought made her feel a little better, and she slowly began to regain control of her legs. The queasy feeling in her stomach remained, however.
The Fearhounds weren't distracted for long. The injured beast walked stiffly toward her with bloodlust in its eyes, unafraid of her dagger. She took several steps back until her feet hit the base of the hill. Everything that Kael had taught her flashed through her mind in an instant. Though she tried to remember it all, it didn't really matter. Her dagger was of no use against a Fearhound. It wouldn't even be much of an annoyance.
Seeing her as an easy kill, the Fearhound continued to limp toward her confidently. Kaylie held the dagger in front of her, balancing on her toes just as she had been taught. She could hear her father yelling in anger as he tried to make his way past the two Fearhounds blocking his path, but she knew he would never get to her in time. She'd have to depend on her own abilities now.
When the Fearhound was no more than a few feet away, the creature lunged forward, its jaws aimed for her throat. Giving in to her instinct, Kaylie slashed with her dagger and then rolled to the ground, clear of the Fearhound’s attack. The beast howled in pain. Kaylie had been true in her aim. Her slash dug into the slice caused by her father's sword. Though not a disabling blow, it was painful and would slow the Fearhound even more. If nothing else, at least she had scored a hit. Kael would have been proud of her.
The Fearhound lowered its head then, its eyes blazing red with anger. The beast leapt into the air, its sharp claws ready to tear into Kaylie. There was nothing she could do. She held the dagger in front of her, aimed for the Fearhound's chest. She knew she didn't stand a chance. If only she had learned how to fight with a sword! A dagger was such a pitiful weapon against a Fearhound. She could see the creature's sharp teeth and the saliva dripping off of them. She was going to die, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
Kaylie felt the Fearhound's hot breath on her face, the rank odor making her gag. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she braced herself for the Fearhound's impact. Much to her surprise, she heard a loud thunk and then all was quiet around her. Hesitantly opening her eyes, she looked down. The Fearhound that just an instant before had seen her as an easy meal now lay at her feet, a long arrow sticking out of its eye. Its snout lay nearly on top of her bare toes, the Fearhound's spittle dripping down onto them. She jumped back, sickened by the sight of blood and saliva mixing on her flesh. She promised herself that she would never take her boots off outside of the Rock again.
More screams of pain rose above the din of battle. But this time they weren't coming from the soldiers. An arrow streaked down from the hilltop, and then another arrow right after the first, taking both the Fearhounds circling Gregory in the eye, killing them instantly. Gregory looked around in shock, searching for the source of unexpected aid.
More arrows fell from the sky, each one striking home with pinpoint precision. A Fearhound leaping through the air and about to tear out the throat of a wounded soldier tumbled in a heap to the ground. Another Fearhound turned away from its prey upon seeing one of its companions fall to the ground dead, only to meet its own death as an arrow tore through its brain.
Thomas calmly stood atop the hill, lost in the precision of his movements. Nock. Sight. Release. Nock. Sight. Release. Beluil stood before him, his teeth bared, ready to defend his friend if any Fearhound chose to attack. Thomas' mind was a complete blank. There was no thought. No feeling. Simply action. And as each arrow struck true, a small part of him rejoiced, imagining that every Fearhound destroyed was another prick in the skin of its master.
The remaining Fearhounds finally realized that they were under attack by a new foe and quickly located the source. Four of the creatures charged up the hill, howling their anger and snapping their jaws. Thomas waited there calmly, urging the creatures forward. He couldn't afford to miss now, so he waited just a second longer than necessary before releasing his first arrow. The second and third sped after it, and all three hit their targets, taking three of the Fearhounds in the eye and sending them tumbling back down the hill. The fourth was too close for Thomas to nock another arrow. Dropping his bow he reached for his sword, thinking he may have miscalculated. It proved unnecessary, however.
As the Fearhound lunged for Thomas, Beluil leapt as well. It looked like two shadows colliding in the early morning light. Smashing into the Fearhound in midair, Beluil clamped its powerful jaws on the beast's throat, tearing it out. The once fearsome creature fell to the ground lifeless. The entire skirmish came to an end in a matter of minutes.
"Thank you, my friend," whispered Thomas, bending down to pat Beluil affectionately on his head and make sure he was all right before picking up his bow.
Gregory and the soldiers who could still stand stared around them in amazement. Sixteen Fearhounds littered their small encampment, all with a long arrow sticking out of one eye, with three more at the base of the hill. None had ever seen such a feat before. The silence was deafening, as no one knew what to do. They didn’t know how to handle the calm of a battle won that should have been lost.
Kaylie looked around as well, shivering as she measured with her eye the long white teeth of the Fearhound lying at her feet. She had come very close to dying, if not for the help of the unknown bowman. Shielding her eyes from the sun rising above the hill, her mouth opened in shock. The person on the hill did not appear as she had expected him to be.
She thought he would be tall and muscular and weathered. But he looked to be no more than a boy, and perhaps even her own age. A boy her own age? How could someone so young be so calm and confident, especially with four Fearhounds charging toward him? Who was he? How did he come to have a wolf — a very deadly wolf — as a pet? And why did he look so familiar? It all started to fit into place for her, the memories rushing back.
The boy looked down at them from his perch atop the hill, much like an eagle surveying its territory, and satisfied that everything was as it should be. For a brief moment, she thought their eyes locked, and she saw recognition in his. Much to her disappointment, his gaze passed over to her father, who stood there still as a statue just like his men.
Thomas examined the encampment, pleased to see that his and Beluil's efforts had not been wasted. Of the twenty soldiers, more than half remained standing. He briefly locked eyes with the girl, remembering their previous encounter, and again was captured by her beauty. He tore his eyes away with some reluctance, searching for the leader of the troop and finally settling on the large man just a few feet from the girl, his hair speckled with grey. Bringing the blade of his sword to his forehead, Thomas inclined his head to the man before walking across the hilltop and out of sight, Beluil trotting behind him.
The Highland bow. Gregory had not seen that since he last talked with Talyn Kestrel a few weeks before his murder. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. It had happened so fast, he could barely keep track of the fight. In less than two minutes, that boy — it had to be a boy, yet how that was possible he didn't know — had virtually wiped out a pack of Fearhounds all on his own, and had not even broken a sweat doing it. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. The same boy, he was sure, who had rescued his daughter in the Burren. Even now with the boy gone, he could make out the green eyes of their rescuer — the blazing green eyes hotter than any blacksmith's fire. Gregory sighed with relief, glad that he and his daughter still lived.
The spell of silence that had descended upon the soldiers during their rescue abruptly ended as the soldiers all started talking at once.
"Who was that boy?" asked one.
"Did you see that? Did you see that?" asked another.
"Probably one of the Sylvana," replied a grizzled soldier to the first question.
Another answered. "No, it couldn't be the Sylvana. There aren't any left."
"Maybe it's the Raptor," suggested a soldier who had b
een clawed on the leg but was still on his feet.
"No, that's just a story," replied the soldier who also had discounted the theory regarding the Sylvana.
"It must have been the Raptor," interrupted another, riding over his friend. "Because that was not a story that just saved us. Besides, who else can shoot so many of the beasts in the eye? It had to be the Raptor. That's the only explanation for it."
"Enough," shouted Gregory, cutting off the discussion. The soldiers looked at their leader as if they were boys whose hands had just been caught in the cookie jar. "See to the wounded. We’re returning to the Rock. If we can be attacked once, we can be attacked again." The soldiers ran off to do as ordered.
Gregory walked over to Kaylie, taking her in his arms and hugging her. His heart had finally slowed to a normal rate.
"Father, you're hurting me," Kaylie said in a muffled voice, her face pressed up against her father's shirt.
He quickly released her. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.
"It's all right." Kaylie reached out and gave her father a hug as well.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," she replied. Her father's sigh of relief was audible.
"Good. I'm going to check on the wounded." As her father hurried off, he turned back to her. "By the way, you will start your sword training with Kael as soon as we get back."
Kaylie remained where she was, staring up the hill, her father's words washing over her and having no real effect. She had gotten what she wanted, and at the moment she didn’t really care. An image of her rescuer’s face appeared in her mind. In the Burren, just like now, and the wolf was with him then too. He had actually spoken to her then. She had never thought that she would see him again, and like before now hoped there would be a next time.