A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,64
waking him. And now dawn had risen, and still he could not extricate himself.
Bayrin groaned and let his head fall back onto his pack. He looked up at the sky. Clouds rolled there beyond the branches of maples. It would be a long day of flight, and Bayrin knew his wings would ache, but anything was better than lying here.
"Merciful stars, Piri, will you wake up?" he said. He grabbed her arm and tried to pry it off, but she clung tight.
A distant cry sounded.
Bayrin frowned.
He raised his head and stared. In the distance between trees, he could just make out dark forms in the sky. Shrieks rose, closer this time.
Oh stars.
"Piri!" he said. "Wake up!"
The screeches rolled across the sky. Long figures were flying there like dolls made from sticks, distant but moving fast. A stench of rot wafted through the forest.
Nephilim.
"Piri, Piri, wake up!" He shook her. "I really think you need to wake up now, Piri!"
She scrunched her lips, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and mumbled. "What, Bay? I'm sleepy."
He managed to pry her arms off, leaped up, and stared east. Damn it. A hundred of the creatures flew there, moving straight toward them, and their cries rolled across the land.
"Bay?" Piri sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What's that sound?"
He grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. "Look!"
"Hey!" The young healer wrenched herself free. "Watch who you tug, Bayrin Eleison! I—"
Her eyes fell upon the approaching nephilim and she paled. She grabbed him and pulled him down. They ran at a crouch, grabbed their packs and blankets and pots, and scurried behind a fallen log.
"Bloody stars, Piri," he whispered, "I think you could have slept through the Griffin War."
She elbowed him. "Shush! And stay down." She tugged his cloak over them; leaves and twigs were still woven into it. "Be quiet for once, Bayrin."
"Me?" He bristled. "I—"
She dug her elbow sharply into his stomach. "Shh!"
They crouched under the fallen tree and stared between its branches. The stench of the nephilim flared. Two years ago, after the phoenixes had crushed a building in Nova Vita, Bayrin had helped dig up the ruins. Beneath a fallen wall, they had revealed a rotted corpse, and the stench had nearly knocked him down. These nephilim smelled the same way, but the stench was older somehow: rotten flesh mixed with old leather, dust, and mold on cold stones. Their wings beat, sending leaves flying across the forest floor. Their mothers had been human, and their bodies bore humanoid shapes, though their ribs thrust out like those of birds, and their limbs were stretched like men pulled off the rack. Patches of scales clung to their skin, not bright like the scales of dragons, but rotten like lesions of leprosy. Their faces were bloated like waterlogged corpses about to burst. They screamed to the sky and their claws caught the sun and blazed. Their flesh was perhaps rotten, but those claws still looked sharp and hard as freshly forged blades.
Bayrin grabbed his sword and growled. A hundred or more of the beasts flew above. If they saw him and Piri, could the two flee fast enough? These creatures swarmed as fast as swooping dragons. Bayrin pushed himself deeper under the branches.
He waited for the nephilim to overshoot him and disappear westward. But they circled above like a murder of crows, and their nostrils flared, sniffing as loudly as steam rising from smelters.
"Dragon flesh!" they cried, and their drool rained. "We smell dragon flesh, comrades! Crunchable bones, and blood to sip, and sweet organs to suck on, yes comrades. Dragon flesh hides here! Sweet bone and vein!"
Piri cursed and whispered at his side. "Bayrin, they smell you!"
He peeked between the branches and his stomach sank. The nephilim began to dive down. It happened so quickly, Bayrin barely had time to gasp. A few landed ahead, scattering leaves with bony, clawed feet like those of vultures. One landed behind him, mere feet away, and its swollen head thrust down. Its nostrils flared, and its milky white eyes widened. It opened a mouth full of razor teeth and howled, blowing back fallen leaves.
With a roar, Bayrin leaped forward, drew his sword, and sliced the creature's eyes.
It shrieked.
Blood splattered the leaves.
"Fly, Piri!" Bayrin shouted, leaped, and shifted. His wings beat and he crashed between three nephilim who still flew above. One dived screeching behind him, and he spun and flamed it.