Safe behind his own shield of magic, Brutal screamed commands. His commanders also shouted orders, their gestures toward Raine clear. Take him down. Men from the east flank spurred in hard, aiming their crossbows.
Horns blew, wild notes that called across the small valley to the hills to the west.
Men in purple and gold galloped in from the rear, from the western hilltops, answering the call of their High King. In ordered lines they rode their horses downhill, only a few hundred rods away. While they fired arrows and crossbows, they were yet too far away to do any damage.
The troops hidden above, in the hills to our immediate north, stood much closer. Their bolts and arrows hissed past us, slammed into the earth just behind Arianne and me. One flicked through my swinging hair. Atop the hill on a rearing white horse, a commander shouted, ordering a shortening of their aim. The troopers corrected, set their bows lower. The commander screamed. Arrows and bolts flew in a swift shower of hissing death.
Raine raised his massive arms.
A wall of fire rose in a wide arc above and to either side. In a roar, flames surged high and hot, rounding as tall as the highest tree and as wide as a parade ground. A wall not built of stone and mortar, but built with living hungry flame. No bolt or arrow broke through it. That solid wall shielded him, shielded us, from the long shafts and steel barbed heads. Each arrow or bolt died before reaching their target. Wood ash and harmless steel tips dropped useless to the soil.
Setting his hot and lethal shield Raine could ignore the soldiers for a moment. His answering firestorm hit the tight knot of commanders in their middle. Like a pine knot exploding, the commanders broke apart, stumbling and running away, engulfed in flames. As with their troops, most lit up like torches, their own screams sucking fire into their lungs. No few collapsed forward, onto their sloughed off skin and melted clothes. A small number broke to the side, falling to the ground and rolling, killing the flames beneath their bodies.
Ja’Teel, now recovered from the shock of Raine’s lying about him with fire from his own fingers, retaliated with his own magic. Fire shot from his hands, right through the shield, toward Raine. I gasped as I had before. Ja’Teel sent huge balls of living fire toward an unprotected Raine. He’d no shield to cower behind.
Raine sighed, as though sorely put upon by this very adolescent display. Casually, he flicked each one to the side as he might strike balls from the air with a stick. Those balls of fire hit more royal troops entering the fray, hoping to dodge his fiery protection and outflank him. Those unfortunates caught fire and burned. Dammit, why did the horses have to suffer too? The stench of roasting horsemeat offended my sensitive nostrils.
More troops summoned by their King’s trumpets filed in from all directions, entire regiments with their weapons ready. Cavalry horses tossed long manes in the breeze, neighing occasionally, bobbing their heads under the spur.
Banners displaying the royal White Lion of Khalid flapped above them, both from the natural wind and the winds created by their speed. Long orderly columns rode in disciplined ranks, uniformed and proud, approaching from all directions at once. They would, in moments, surround us completely. I knew Raine couldn’t hold out against them all. Not even he had that kind of strength. I whipped my sword from its sheath at last, ready to fling myself into battle.
Bar screamed from on high.
My hair in my face, I looked up.
Above the camouflaging canopy, Bar swooped low overhead, and banked up and over. With the thin green camouflage between us, his details were fuzzy, yet I still saw fairly clearly. His wings spread wide, to their fullest, he screamed again, flying faster than a hurricane. Banking again, he swept upwards, his long lion tail trailing behind him.
He certainly had a few new tricks to show me. At the top of his climb, Bar suddenly folded his wings tight, reversing in a swift flip backward. How did he turn his tail over his beak like that? Dropping like a stone, Bar had the entrance to the screen at his talon tips.
Instantly, Bar streaked in, under the camouflage, his beak open in yet another hideous scream. Over my head he blasted, his wings folded close, flying so fast I snapped my neck to keep my eyes on him. Raine’s firewall might have singed his feathers he flew so low to the ground. The wind of his passing sent Arianne’s hair into turmoil, added fuel to Raine’s firestorm.
Full into the teeth of the marching troops Bar flew. Those closest, the royals riding in from the north, he made his target.
The commander saw him coming, screamed his orders, pointed with his sword. Yet, they, like their brothers before them, stood no chance against a griffin protecting his own. Foolishly, they fired their bows. Bar’s trick of rolling sideways in midair again took my breath away. The arrows and bolts sailed past his tail without a single one striking him.
Bar gave them no chance to fire again.
With beak, talons and lion claws he struck full on. Horses screamed in terror, rearing, flinging their riders to the dirt. Eagle claws raked sideways, down and across. Blood fountained high, bloodied the grass on the hill. His savage beak ripped into the commander, biting through his cuirass as easily as I might break a chicken bone in my hand. None could withstand him. Few dared to try.
With their commander dead, half the horses fled, as those soldiers who still lived thought retreat might be in their best interest. On foot, they ran, those still on their horses galloped past. Bar wasn’t satisfied. Those left behind, trying hard to fight, died under his slashing talons. His white feathers dripped red with gore.
The camouflage netting disappeared, leaving the sun to shine down bright and hot. I had no time to wonder why. Perhaps Ja’Teel was too distracted by his firefight with Raine to keep it maintained.
Arianne screamed. Not with fear or terror, but with joy, with triumph, with victory. “Here! To me!”
I wheeled, pulling my hair from my eyes.
Wolves poured down out of the western hills. A tidal wave of fur and fangs, they leaped for men, horses. In the chaos left by Bar’s attack and Raine’s fires, those that hadn’t died or fled, fell under the dreadful fangs of the wolves. Many shot bows and crossbows, but despite their enormous size, the wolves dodged too quickly.
Before the troops could reload or renock, the wolves had them down, their throats torn open. Many other brave souls sought to aim their weapons at the wolves, only to find that, while they aimed, another wolf crept up behind to hamstring him, or leap upon his back to take him down.
The raw, primal fear the wolves engendered did more harm to the Federate soldiers than the wolves themselves. More than half the royal troops dashed away on foot or on lathered, wild-eyed horses, fleeing over the hills to disappear, hopefully forever.
A dozen or so wolves peeled away from the slaughter, racing toward a now unprotected Arianne. With Raine distracted by firing on those who still sought to kill either him or me, Arianne stood alone and solitary. Lead by a huge dark grey beast with yellow eyes, they circled her, forming a defending ring. A few men on horses fled past, not pausing to even try to hurt her. Clearly, the Khalidians wanted out but fast.
Flames blossomed from the very air.
I blinked, panic racing down my spine.
A red-bronze dragon filled the skies to the north, another burst of flame shooting from its long snout. Wings swept up and down, so huge they obscured the green hills behind it. Its reptilian lips curled back as it roared, its bellow vibrating the very earth I stood upon. Up and over us it swept, green-gold eyes peering as it angled its twin-horned head down to see us better.
“About bloody time!” Raine yelled.
“You know how I love to make an entrance,” the dragon called down.
Rygel. My breath left my body in heartfelt relief. Not exactly Rygel’s voice, but there was no mistaking Rygel’s arrogance or his laughter. Of course. Raine knew Rygel would find us. He had faith in his blood brother whereas I believed in Brutal and succumbed to despair. Knowing Raine and Rygel as well as I did, how could I have ever b
elieved Brutal would ever, or could ever, win against this bonded, talented pair?
Rygel flew to rescue us, in dragon form. Flying not only made his journey swift, but he also had the savage armament to fight for us. My breath and spit returned, my heart began to slow its frantic thudding. We were safe. Not Brutal, not Ja’Teel, could hope to capture us now.
“Greetings, Princess,” Rygel called. “Need a hand? How about a wing?”
I put my hands on my hips and aimed a glare up as he banked gracefully up and over to sweep past me again. “Don’t be absurd. We have everything under control.”
Wizard laughter rained down.
“But as long as you’re here, go chase Brutal’s army away.”
“Your wish is my command, my queen.”
Rygel rose higher, his front legs ending in long, deadly talons tucked neatly under his shoulders, his huge hind legs and long spade-tipped tail following behind. Flames burst from his huge muzzle toward the blue sky, his shadow encompassing the row of hills we stood upon. With no little envy, I shaded my eyes with my hand to better witness the awesome, unrivaled beauty that was his dragon. Someday, I swore, I would make Rygel change me into one of these magnificent creatures.
I turned, searching for Brutal and Ja’Teel.
I didn’t see Ja’Teel. Hmmm. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t seen Ja’Teel once Rygel’s dragon first exhaled fire. I snorted inwardly, contemptuous. Of course he’d never hope to match Rygel. Never once did Rygel ever flag in his loyalty or courage in fighting for those he loved. Ja’Teel, a true coward, abandoned his master at the first threat to his own life.
I did, however, find Brutal. His royal guard didn’t hurry him to safety. Those that yet lived, instead, followed his fleeing figure. Their once proud white tunics and gold cloaks were now stained and tarnished with soot. They followed their decamping leader, perhaps out of loyalty and blind devotion. Or perhaps out of a serious case of self-interest.
They reached their horses. As they had two days previously, they mounted up and whipped hard. In a flurry of kicked up grass and dirt, the group thundered back up the hill. Crossing the ridge, Brutal on his black stallion, his crown sending off sparks of light, lead the retreat down the far side.
I opened my mouth to call Rygel, to send him after Brutal. One flame-burst and Brutal’s brother would inherit. We’d have no more worries. Yet, I suspected such might come under the killing by magic, though I wasn’t sure. I turned back to the slaughter down in the small valley. I shut it again when I realized we needed him more in order for us to escape this madness than I wished him to kill Brutal.
Rygel banked and swept downward, flames erupting from his huge gaping jaws. Ranks upon ranks of back-sweeping teeth glimmered among the orange and yellow fire.
“Don’t burn the wolves!” Arianne screamed.
The flames instantly vanished. Of course. The wolves still scampered among the troops, killing those who offered to fight. If a soldier threw down their arms, or knelt in the grass, or crawled away, screaming, the wolves passed him by. Still many remained mounted, trying to win through. Two or three different companies reformed their lines, shouting commands, nocking bows. Should Rygel swoop down, flaming, his fires might burn the wolves too. Burn our fanged, furry allies? Unthinkable.
Bar, too, still screeched his fury, sweeping back and forth, running down as many soldiers as he could. Despite Brutal’s rapid departure to safer areas, and Bar’s slaughtering or sending more into flight, we still had two hundred or more troopers regrouping, knotting into a new army. Much faster than I believed, they found the courage and the discipline to close ranks on the northern and eastern fronts. To escape them, we needed to get past them first.
Rygel shut down his fires. His wings sweeping him forward, he headed east, toward the larger of the two companies.
The valiant troopers on the eastern hills made him their target. I had to admit he made a fine big one. A hundred, more, longbows stretched to their limit, rose to point razor-tipped barbs upward. I held my breath. Dragon hide was fireproof, Rygel had said. Was it also immune to steel barbs?
Arrows flew upward in a sheet. Despite the distance, I heard the sharp whistle of their flight.
Rygel swept up, dancing on his tail, his huge, leathery wings lashing the air. The arrows closed the distance.
With a sharp twist of his head, flames shot from his jaws. From right to left, his flame-burst caught the arrows dead in their flight. Last week, I witnessed firsthand dragon fire burning wood under water. Dry arrow shafts were no problem at all. I didn’t even see arrow tips fall to the ground.
The commander screamed again, his sword flashing down. His disciplined troops launched a second sheet of arrows.
His wings lashing the air once more, Rygel launched himself out and down. The barbs screamed harmlessly past his huge body, scattering on the gale-force gust of wind his wings created. Per his royal lady’s command, he kept his fires locked inside.
Instead, Rygel used fear as his ultimate weapon.
Our own incredibly brave horses all but panicked when Rygel swept past them on dragon’s wings. Khalid’s cavalry horses never thought about panicking. They fled the instant the windy roar of his wings hit them, before his shadow crossed over them. They saw him come and all hell broke loose on the eastern hilltops.
Screaming horses reared, bucked, scattered in all directions, slamming into one another before they could get free of the entangling mass. Many fell in their blind panic, taking their riders down with them. Poor things, they had only one thought on their minds: run now, run fast.
Rygel roared, his voice shattering the small valley. Coasting over the pandemonium on the eastern ridge, his long shadow cast the hilltop in darkness for a heartbeat or three. No soldier in that mess tried to shoot him down. If they hadn’t been carried off by their horses, they were too busy trying not to be killed by their terrified mounts.
In the absolute chaos, many soldiers fell to the ground and were quickly trampled by the loose, careening horses. Those on their feet were forced to duck and dodge the runaways. At least half, I judged, managed to stay on board, and disappeared when their horses crossed the horizon. I hoped they would have sense enough to keep running once their mount’s terror wore off.
“Ly’Tana!”
Raine, at the hill’s foot several hundred rods below me, smiled. His fires currently quenched, he had no enemy soldier near enough to warrant killing. Held enrapt by Rygel and his efficient dispersal of the eastern threat, I hadn’t noticed there were very few soldiers near us and those that were close had taken to their heels. Several purple and gold uniforms crested the hill Brutal had just descended.
Raine pointed.
I shaded my eyes with my hand, gazing into the distance to the northwest. Less than a mile away, Tashira and Shardon galloped, side by side. Wolves trailed them, but could never hope to maintain that wicked Tarbane pace. Tears filled my eyes to see them, manes flying above from the wind of their passage, their tails streaming in thick, undulating waves behind them.
By their trajectory, I knew they intended to attack the northern force arrayed against Raine and I, who had set themselves to march forward. No Khalidian soldier faced but forward, looking at us, planning to gallop down from their ridge and engage what they thought were three lone individuals and a few random wolves. None glanced behind them to see terror on hooves.
Tashira, a black devil with blood red eyes, flattened ears and bared teeth galloped straight into the flowing mass of cavalry. Shardon, still wearing his saddle and bridle, his reins tangled in his streaming mane, screamed his challenge ten Tarbane strides from impact. They both hit, striking with flailing hooves and strong teeth, hard, from the rear. Their sheer mass combined brought down horses and men in a steely tangle. Tarbane teeth bit deep into bone, muscle, the flesh of both horses and men. Deadly Tarbane hooves kicked out, shattering equine ribs, legs, necks. Mounted soldiers screamed under the rain of hooves, falling to their deaths.
&
nbsp; Shardon, after kicking through the mass of men and horses, broke through and galloped down the hill. Not toward Raine or me, but toward the dragon that had just finished driving Brutal’s finest into complete chaos and landed serenely to the earth.
Before folding his enormous wings, Rygel changed.
In a blink, Rygel stood on the side of the hill as loose horses still careened blindly past him and soldiers wriggled in the dirt like worms behind him, watched with a smile as Shardon approached.
Bar blew back into my sight, striking directly into a writhing knot of cavalry and black Tarbane. Horses reared, screaming. Bar’s enormous wings hid the desecration from my sight as he ripped into the men and horses. Men died under the hooves and teeth of Tashira, or under the beak and razor talons of Bar. Horses, untrained to battle either griffins or their more powerful cousins, pitched their unlucky riders into the dirt and fled.
The wolves, late coming into the fray, had little to do but nip and frighten more horses into panicked flight, or kill any soldier who still sought to aim a bow or crossbow at either Tashira or Bar. To me, even from the distance, they seemed disappointed. No few stood and panted, tails low, looking for something to do. I almost smiled at the sight.
Reaching Rygel, Shardon slowed to allow Rygel to grab his pommel and swing into his saddle. Launching himself with another scream of fury, he galloped headlong down the hill. His target? None other than Rygel’s lady, Arianne.
Ears flat to his skull, teeth bared, Shardon galloped on, his speed so great my eye could not fasten on him before he was gone. I saw little but a silver blur with a man on its back. His path lay straight and relentless.
Raine, distracted by the sheer slaughter of Brutal’s troops, blinked. I, too, looked about, taking in the field of slaughter. Raine alone killed or scattered what looked to be an entire company of royal troops. Total devastation had not the meaning to convey the sight that greeted my eyes. Burnt husks of men and horses lay everywhere. Smoke trailed lazily upward into the clear blue sky. The sun streamed down brightly on death and blackness and utter chaos. The tall grass, once green and living, lay flattened and grey. Blackened rocks broke through the once living soil.
Catch a Wolf Page 46