Before Krea could answer, Cricket was flashing across the field with impossible speed. She launched herself at a proth a moment before its claws found purchase on Sorin’s leg. “Come on, Dane.”
They ran toward the battle. Krea struggled to shove down the burning inside. She knew the familiar ringing in her ears and knew what her body was trying to do, but this time a new burning kept her in check. The spiral on her arm pulsed. She focused on Sorin and plunged forward, dagger slashing before her.
Wings snapped in the air, and Krea spun around as a proth dove for her head. She ducked. Her dagger leaped up and slashed the creature across its taloned foot. She watched in confusion as the proth tumbled through the air and crashed. It slammed into the ground and screeched with the same agonizing sound the one by the tree line had made. A violent spasm traveled from wing to claw. Spittle spewed from its gaping mouth and it dropped to its side, dead. Krea glanced at the dagger. She barely had time to watch the crimson red fade back to gold before another proth was on her.
Sorin stumbled and fell to one knee. His sunball, now much smaller than the ones he had pulled before, vanished in a sprinkling of light. As the proth closed in, Dane screamed. In a spray of grass and mud, the proth launched itself into the air just as a boulder the size of its head shot after it. Thick wings pulled it into the sky as the boulder crashed to the ground.
“Nice,” Krea said, watching as the next proth prepared to dive.
“It ain't like I done it on purpose.”
Krea didn't comment. She didn't have time. Another proth was dropping down. Light whirled in Sorin's hand, but it was dim and small. Off to Sorin’s left, Cricket ripped away the flesh of a proth who had been trying for a ground attack. The creature clawed at its body, trying to catch the gray blur that tore at its neck. The ground rumbled as Dane struggled to call more stones to do his bidding.
Sorin launched his sunball. It smacked into a diving proth and knocked it off balance, but it wasn't enough to bring it down. Wings snapped as the faerie twisted in the air and prepared to dive again. Another proth was already coming in from the other side. Sorin clenched his sword and pushed himself back to his feet, barely. As if they smelled his weakness, the proth closed in. The situation was dire. Krea didn’t see a way out. This would end in death. Their death. But not without taking a few more of the vile faeries with them. She raised her dagger and turned to meet the proth.
Across the field, a voice cracked through the air, reverberating through the trees like a clap of thunder. The sky dimmed as the air resonated with power. Twisting in the sky, the four remaining proth changed their direction to converge on the new threat.
At first, Krea thought Sorin had thrown one of his sunballs into the forest. But then a figure strode out from the wall of trees, tall and lean and glowing. White hair the color of new snow whipped in a wind that didn't touch the surrounding leaves. It was a striking contrast to deep chestnut skin, and the billowing green cloak draped over the still figure. Whatever this new arrival was, it was female and it was not human.
Proth dove at the creature—their attacks frantic, vicious. And pointless. One after the other smashed into a shield of dusky blue light and spun away, flipping through the air and slamming into trees. One proth cut away from the attack and swerved back to Sorin. Krea raised her dagger, but the creature darted forward, covering the distance between herself and Sorin with alarming speed. A wave of her dark hand sent the proth flying. It hurled through the air, knocking two other proth down with it.
The fourth abandoned its attack; instead it dropped to the meadow floor and crouched with the others. They hissed and growled, their tails snaking back and forth. Wings snapped in agitation, but all four proth kept a wary distance from the white-haired being.
The female turned and stared down at Krea with glowing blue-white eyes. Tiny slits of river blue streaked down their centers. Cat eyes. Sort of. Leaves, twigs, and vines peeked out of the fabric that clung like a second skin to her body in bark browns and grass greens, as if her clothing was a living extension of the forest itself. Either way, the combination of the female creature’s light features against her deep brown skin was breathtaking. As the wind stopped her hair settled, and pointed ears far too long and set too high to be human peeped out and angled back.
Krea gasped. She knew at once she stood before a drykir. An angry drykir, to be exact.
The elf watched Krea for half of forever. The elf’s stare became intrusive, and Krea stepped back to create some space. The dagger pulsed at the movement, perhaps hoping to make a dive for the drykir, but Krea held it still. The elf’s violent gaze fell to the blade and she jerked back, an action so subtle as to be missed, but Krea knew what she had seen. That icy stare moved to the dagger and then back to Krea in obvious surprise before she turned to Dane, then settled on Sorin. “Defender, take the Eothi into the old forest. To the place of the beginning.” Her voice was not the melodious thing Krea had always imagined an elf voice to be. It was sharp and painful to hear, like ice cracking on a lake.
Sorin's chemise clung to his skin. Sweat dripped off his temple, and his sword arm shook from exertion. His breathing still came in pants as he peered up at the drykir with something close to disdain. “Defender? I am the defender? I have a metal sword and a wooden hand, and you want me to be the defender?”
Two proth stalked away to circle behind the elf. She glanced back, saw their movement, and sent a pulse of white light shooting out of her palm. All four proth rolled backward from the impact, but all four of them climbed back to their feet and resumed their agitated dance.
Krea and Dane exchanged glances. Why didn't the drykir just kill them? That she could was obvious.
“You have what you need,” she answered, as if in afterthought. “Bring the key.”
Sorin's jaw twitched. He glanced at the waiting proth, then at Krea and Dane. His flesh hand clamped around his sword, and Krea was sure he was about to swing it at the elf.
She turned and looked him dead in the eye. “Obedience requires sacrifice. Leave your arrogance behind.”
Krea gasped. Dane mumbled something under his breath. Sorin's jaw fell open. None of them thought to say anything to the elf before she turned and stalked away. The only thing Krea managed to latch onto before the elf vanished into the trees was that they wore the same boots.
The elf barely broke the tree line before all four proth lunged for Sorin. Cricket plowed into one and started shredding it with her claws and teeth. Sorin managed to pull another sunball together and sent a second proth sliding into a fallen log.
Probably out of habit, Dane clutched his burl in his fist. He started toward the proth, trying to untangle its wings from the log. Krea reached out to pull him back, but before she could touch him, the ground shook, knocking her to her knees.
From somewhere near the fallen tree, giant roots peeled out of the ground, raining dirt and rocks over the clearing. The proth tried to get its footing, but a thick root snaked out and wrapped around the fallen beast. It screamed for half a second before the root dug back into the ground, snapping the faerie in half.
Krea wasn't sure who was more surprised, her or Dane. She didn't have time to wonder. The last two proth were wearing Sorin down. He needed help. Krea ran to his aid, her dagger leading the way.
He smelled of sweat and blood. Both hands gripped the hilt of his sword. The time for sunballs had passed. She slashed at a passing proth, missing it by a hair. Sorin grunted as he swiped at the second and prepared to intercept the first.
Krea tried to follow the proth's path, but a rustling from the far side of the field caught her attention. She started to turn, but deadly talons whipped by her face and she ducked. The dagger lurched for the passing proth, and the combination nearly knocked her on her back, again.
The rustling drew closer. Krea was sure more proth were joining the fight, but that thought didn't sit right. The sound was different, softer.
A proth screeched and whirled to dodge Sor
in's sword. Its wing caught Krea in the shoulder, but the dagger jerked around and slashed through the ragged skin.
The faerie screeched again, but another call cut through the clearing. Krea spun in time to see a giant bird swoop down out of the sky.
Chapter 20 – Help
“Krea, look,” Dane screamed over the shrieks and howls that filled the meadow.
She couldn’t believe it. Her first thought as she watched the giant wings pumping through the air was that Sorin's Tormismir had come to save them. But, as the bird broke over the treetop, Krea realized the animal wasn't a bird at all. Not all of it was.
Massive talons stretched forward as the beast plunged toward the last proth, but the talons emerged from a horse's black legs. Wings, tan and gold and chestnut, stretched out from a horse's shoulder, and a fantastic equine neck arched down, melting into the feathered head of an eagle. When the beast whipped around to follow the proth, Krea noticed the dark fur that covered the horse rump and back blended into magnificent gleaming feathers across the beast's chest, throat, and head.
It winged through the air with great whooshing sounds as it tried to close in on the smaller but faster proth. The faerie dove for the ground, too close for the bird creature to follow.
As the larger beast beat its enormous wings to push back into the air, the proth whipped over the treetops and folded its wings to dive for Sorin. The feathered creature surged upward as the proth dove.
Krea held her breath, wondering where the two would meet, but before the proth dropped below the trees, a second creature, copper red and even larger than the first, swooped over the clearing and snatched the proth out of the air in claws as long as Krea’s arm.
The dragon clutched the gnarled faerie in its front feet, and without missing a flap of its great leathery wings, twisted the proth in half and dropped the gooey remains on the ground as it winged back over the trees.
The dagger jerked Krea around. The proth it had nicked in the wing was crawling across the grass, its jaw gaping as it struggled to close the distance to Sorin.
Dane jabbed his knife into the creature’s side. Claws whipped out to slice Dane's legs, but the dagger nearly jumped out of Krea’s hand and plunged into the proth’s throat. The faerie convulsed, and its gurgled screech faded to silence as the last of the proth died.
Sorin looked from Krea to the dagger, already fading from red back to gold. His own sword, dripping the sickly yellow blood of the proth, dangled at his side, barely clutched in his still trembling hand.
Krea glanced down at the dagger. It gleamed back. Not a single drop of proth blood marred its magnificent surface. “It drinks blood!” she yelled. “It’s cursed. Dane, you lied. It’s cursed.”
She tried to shove the blade back into the sheath that glittered at her side, but it twisted away and jerked back toward the proth that lay dead at her feet.
Krea grabbed the hilt with both hands and pulled it away before it plunged into the faerie again. Beneath her fingers, the dragon on the hilt writhed, and to her utter shock, the dagger hissed.
“Get it back in the sheath,” Sorin whispered, his voice raspy with exhaustion.
“It won’t go,” Krea said. “It just hissed at me.”
“Krea.” Sorin's tone took on an edge that brought her back to the meadow. Their winged allies had landed at the edge of the clearing, and she heard the calls of men coming from the trees. “Get that dagger back in the sheath, now. And pull down your sleeve. I don’t want to explain your arm either.”
In a supreme act of willpower, Krea focused on the dagger. She willed it to obey the same way she willed the ringing in her ears to stop—the same way she willed her breathing to slow when she was hiding from the guards. Finally, the dagger ceased its struggle. Krea shoved the blade back into the sheath and watched as the gold melted back to dingy iron.
She jerked down her sleeve and shivered.
Sorin pulled Dane in against his leg and squeezed Krea’s shoulder, his fae-hand molding over her body like no wood should. “Thank you both for not listening to me.”
Dane grinned. “It was me what told her to bring the gold dagger.”
“The cursed dagger,” Krea said.
“It ain’t cursed. Just ’cause you don't know how to use it don’t mean nothing about no curse.”
Sorin turned toward the tree line. “Hush. Both of you.”
Two men, swords in hand, stood at the edge of the meadow gaping at the carnage. One finally turned to the massive red dragon who was working diligently to wipe proth entrails off its front claws. The other stood stock-still as the feathered horse creature trotted toward Sorin, its massive eagle head arching with pride and power.
“What is it?” Dane whispered.
“He is a hippogryph.”
“A kyrni?” Krea asked.
“Aye, a kyrni.” Sorin wiped his blade on the matted fur of the closest proth.
“So them men what's staring at us is nyshi?”
Sorin turned to Dane. Sweat still dripped off the caller as if he had stood in the rain. Putrid yellow splatters dotted his chemise, and bloodstained tears marked where the proth had come too close. He gave Dane a half grin, but whatever he was about to say was cut short by the huge creature who stopped in front of him.
The hippogryph arched his neck down and looked the three of them over. His head was at least as broad as Krea's chest and covered in magnificent gold, brown, and cream mottled feathers. Darker feathers trailed down his neck and across his chest, melting into the massive wings that rustled against the red bay body of a horse—a huge horse, but a horse nonetheless. As Sorin wiped his blade on his breeches and then sheathed his sword, the creature swished his tail and shuffled backward on his taloned feet.
The ground lurched beneath Krea’s feet, and she looked past the hippogryph just in time to see the dragon take another great stride before leaping into the air, its caller straddling its broad shoulders in what looked like a cross between a harness and a saddle. Only then did she notice that the hippogryph wore a similar contraption.
The second caller finally approached, pushing at the dead proth with his foot as he passed. He stopped and shoved at the nearest one before looking the three of them over. “Doran and Kinara are doing a flyover to see if any more proth are about.” He gave the hippogryph a healthy pat before placing the flat of his fist against his forehead and offering them, as a group, a brief bow.
Sorin returned the greeting. “I am well met,” he said with a dip of his head. “Well met indeed. I don't know that I could have lasted much longer.”
The caller gave something between a grunt and a laugh. “It looks to me like you did just fine.” The hippogryph shook himself from head to tail in a great rustling of feathers and fur. “Forgive my rudeness,” the caller said. “I am still somewhat shocked. This is Feydrhin, my link; and I am Jaydar, son of Taen, caller from the line of Myrcadu. Rhin wishes to remain countered until Kinara returns.” Jaydar glanced around the clearing. “Did I see a sheema here as well?”
“Aye. For all of my complaining about her, she saved my life more than once today. She is likely watching from the trees.”
Whatever else Sorin was about to say was cut off by a rush of wings as the dragon swooped over their heads and landed with a gentle run a few paces away.
Krea stared in awe. She had seen dragons before, of course. On occasion, they came to Trasdaak, but she didn't imagine they could ever grow commonplace.
The beast stood more than two times taller than its rider, who was deftly sliding down its leg. Scales like plates of armor rippled in a swirl that blurred from burnt copper orange along the dragon's belly and throat to the red of a burning sunset over its back and down the tail. Black spikes that looked suspiciously like Cricket's horns ran up the dragon's long neck, ending with one longer horn just above its massive amber eyes and another smaller horn on top of its nose.
Dane tapped Krea’s shoulder as the dragon swung its great head around and looked at
them. “It gots Cricket’s ears,” he said.
Sure enough, batlike ears flared up in a burst of orange and yellow that faded to black along the dragon's jawline, where small spikes pointed down the creature’s neck.
“They do look a lot alike, don't they?”
“Except Cricket don't got no scales. I wonder if that dragon could change colors, too.”
Krea started to ask Sorin that very question, but he was watching the pair in front of him with such a pained expression she thought better of it. Jaydar had his hand on the hippogryph's feathered head and was mouthing a chant.
Dane yanked Krea's arm so hard she nearly fell as the hippogryph blurred into a swirl of white light. The light froze in the air, a sheet of glowing ice, and Krea had to look away. Then, much like the sparkles of light that collected in Sorin's hand to make a ball, the sheet collapsed into itself and vanished. The hippogryph was gone. A man who looked to be only a few years older than Krea stood in its place. Krea reminded herself to close her mouth.
“Did you see that?” Dane whispered.
Krea stared at him. “Really? Do you think I was just tying my boot?”
He glared and let go of her arm.
“Looks like we missed most of the fun,” said a woman who Krea knew had been a dragon only moments before. She was short and stout with flame-red hair and an easy smile. Copper-red lines ran across the bridge of her nose and swirled into a long coil that looped under her green eyes and dropped down in front of her ears. Another line arched up over her eyebrows and flared back into her hair. Freckles dotted the rest of her face. “Who did you cross? Goddess, have mercy! Do those things ever stink.” She started to place her fist on her forehead in greeting, but then thought better of it. “I can still smell the nasty thing on my hands. I am Kinara, and this…” She glanced around and finally spotted the man who was poking at a proth closer to the tree line. “That is my link, Doran.”
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 31