inner edge of the square.
Fallon took a position inside the square on the side where the eagles would attack. He shouted his order. “Archers to the ready.”
His men reached for their bows.
“Nock arrows.”
Only the sound of heavy breathing and horses shifting was heard.
“Hold.”
The eagles grew in size until Fallon could count the spots on one.
“Draw.”
That was close enough.
“Loose arrows.”
The arrows released with a series of twangs. In a smooth movement, his archers knocked their next arrow and drew back their strings.
“Loose.”
Another volley of arrows flew.
One eagle screeched and pulled back, the powerful beat of its wings taking it higher into the air. Its companion kept coming, attempting to snatch a man off the line. Fallon was there with spear in hand, jabbing up into its stomach. Other spearmen joined him, some glancing off its protective feathers, a few finding their mark.
It peeled off to join its companion in the air. Together they circled.
“Archers!” Fallon shouted. Bows lifted. “Loose.”
A storm of arrows sailed toward the eagles. They swooped and dived to avoid the worst of it.
“Loose.”
The eagles beat their wings and climbed.
Thunder sounded from the cliffs and the ground shook. Such a loud noise that Fallon was half convinced the world was about to meet its end as the horses tossed their heads as their eyes rolled.
They were too well-trained to rear and toss their rider, but they pranced in place. Eagles didn’t concern them, but the ground moving under their feet was enough to upset years of training.
“Look,” one of Fallon’s men shouted. To Fallon’s eyes he looked not much older than a boy. He was familiar. Fallon thought this might be one of the men Shea was friends with.
A small opening appeared in the cliffs. One not visible before.
“She did it,” Buck shouted.
Of course, she did. If anybody could, it was Shea. In the nick of time too.
“One hundred meter sprints,” Fallon said. “On the next pass.”
There was a chorus of battle cries acknowledging his command.
The eagles passed over head, shying away from the volley of arrows the archers sent in their direction.
“Now.”
The lines broke as the horses thundered back toward the cliffs and the safety they now represented.
They reached their hundred meters, the horses wheeling to form the same square they had before. Archers on the inside, spearmen on the outside so their backs could be protected.
The eagles separated in mid-air, one swooping in from the left while the other angled to attack from the right. Fallon remained focused on the closest, concentrating on shouting commands and trusting that one of his commanders would take care of the other side.
Eamon shouted, “Loose,” a beat before Fallon.
There was a cry as one of the eagles closed its talons around a man, trying to drag him from his saddle. The spearmen next to him closed ranks, thrusting with their spears. An arrow found its way into its eye, the boy Shea had befriended giving a triumphant shout.
Its talons opened, dropping its victim. The man fell to the ground, blood gushing from a stomach wound as the eagle climbed into his sky above him.
“Get him back on his horse,” Fallon ordered. “We move now.”
Two of Fallon’s soldiers threw the injured man onto his horse before leaping onto their own. The group took off at a gallop.
“Fallon, look,” Eamon shouted, pointing to the west and the Badlands.
“I see it.” Fallon’s face was grim as he bent closer to his horse and flicked his reins, trying to summon more speed.
A black cloud—moving in an unnatural way as it changed direction and speed against the wind—was heading in their direction. Fast. It was close, much too close. The eagles had distracted them from the danger amassing in the distance.
Eamon turned, calling over his shoulder. “Ride! Ride as if the hounds of the underworld are nipping at your heels.”
The cavern entrance was close now, looming larger with every hoof beat. Fallon didn’t dare call his men to stop to face the eagles bearing down, knowing that if they did, that black mass would be on them.
He just bent lower and let his mount have its head, trusting that it would make it.
He could hear the beat of wings on the air, coming ever closer. Feel the air on the back of his neck from those wings.
Braden stood at the head of several lines of men that had formed on either side of the entrance. Fallon met his eyes as he charged closer.
Braden’s mouth moved, shaping a word. “Loose arrows.”
Arrows flew once again. Aimed at the