A Prince Among Killers - By J. B. Redmond Page 0,3
dead cat, failed, then readied himself to throw his dagger. He swore again, knowing the last thing he would see would be his blade missing its target.
Galvin lopped off the cat’s head before it could spring.
More blood filled Aron’s vision, spattering on his tunic and face like dozens of hot, sobering slaps. He managed to rip his blade free and raise it. No target. The rock cats were all dead. But the manes—
All the blood was drawing them like a coppery beacon. Their unearthly moans grew so loud Aron couldn’t manage a complete thought—and from above came a spine-slashing shriek Aron had never heard before.
Galvin’s expression, which had been a mixture of surprise and relief, shifted to horror and dread. He jerked his gaze skyward and froze with both fists still on his blood-coated long sword.
“Great Roc,” he said, still looking up. “It’s hunting. It’s hunting us.”
Aron felt nothing but burning in his arms and ankles, and an equal burning that seemed to come from the center of his mind. Great Roc. One of the giant white predator birds from the Barrens. How could he and Galvin defend themselves against a bird double the size of a bull talon, and the onrushing manes, and whatever else might be in the mists?
He didn’t know whether to keep his gaze on the fog and wait to fight the blood-seeking manes, or watch the shrouded sky like Galvin, waiting for death to drop on them from above.
The whumping pump of huge wings sent the mists into a swirling frenzy. Pebbles rattled on the path and struck Aron in his shins and knees.
At the same moment, the mane of a robed man came staggering through the nearby curtain of fog.
Aron snarled at the thing, then glanced upward at the swirling clouds again.
Something huge and heavy was dropping toward them like a weight in a well. Aron could sense its enormous presence even though he couldn’t see it. Yet.
Then claws three times larger than a talon’s tore through the thin ceiling of mist.
Aron and Galvin dodged at the same moment, going in different directions.
Giant dagger-nails clicked shut on dirt and rocks, and the thwarted bird let out a will-stealing cry. The sound reverberated through Aron’s bones. His skin and shoulders burned, and his blood froze even as it oozed from the cuts around his neck.
The mane moaned as it lurched forward, dragging one foot. Its eyes burned like black fire. Already, it was reaching for Aron with one unnaturally pale hand, reaching for his warmth and life.
Aron shifted his attack stance to favor the silver dagger, doing what he could to ignore the throb of his wounds. He barely got his arms and weapons into defense position.
The mane never slowed its shambling approach.
Aron tried not to think at all as he rammed his silver blade deep, deep into the onrushing mane’s belly. He sealed his mind against the rush of wet, clinging cold that claimed his wrist, fingers, and forearm. Like plunging his blade into a vat of chilled cooking oil.
The creature’s features contorted as it shrieked.
Aron jerked his blade back, but the mane’s essence fell away to nothing. Its freed soul burst outward, then upward, taking the shape of a tall, winged man as it fled this world for the next.
Aron shook his blade arm, as if to clear the greasy sensation.
More manes stumbled, lumbered, and dragged themselves into the space now free of mist. Aron counted two, then four, then five and too many to keep counting.
Galvin shouted again and again, bashing the Roc’s legs each time the bird attempted to pluck him from the path.
Aron’s panic burst through him like the mane’s spirit leaving its long-dead body. He saw the area free of fog too sharply, his awareness wrapping around each movement and detail. His arm moved as if it didn’t belong to him, plunging his dagger into mane after mane. He turned in circles, cutting first one, then the next, and from somewhere in the still-shrouded regions of the path, more rock cats gave wailing, starved cries. Feral, unfamiliar howls joined the lethal chorus, coating Aron’s thoughts and nerves in yet more ice. The pain tearing at his shoulders grew distant, as did the mind-hammering sounds of the attack.
He had time to think that Stormbreaker might approve of Galvin and Aron dying together in such a battle. Then the Roc’s snatching claws caught him on the side of his head, knocking his senses loose like so many broken teeth.