Daughter of Prophecy (6 page)

As they ran, a horror raced ahead at an angle to cut them off, moving with astonishing speed on those long rear legs while holding out its wings for balance. Skidding to a stop in front of the rocks, it wheeled about with a viperous grace to face them. Clearly the beasts were treating the humans and their weapons with contempt. Such assuredness was even more frightening to Rhiannon than the size of the creatures themselves.

The horror's abdomen heaved repeatedly. Its long neck rippled in a series of waves, and the skin behind the jaws expanded into a round ball. The mouth opened, and Rhiannon stared in disbelief at the red-orange glow like that of a blacksmith's forge behind the tongue. It shot forth—

The fletching of an arrow appeared in the creature's left eye. The horror roared, part scream of pain, part death throe. It flung its head skyward, a long plume of flame billowing from its mouth before collapsing into a heap.

The rear warrior galloped by, the Dinari battle cry on his lips. In one smooth motion, he nocked and loosed another shaft while guiding his horse by knee pressure alone into the midst of the three pursuing creatures. This time the arrow's point hit just below the eye of the closest one but dropped to the ground without penetrating. As the man nocked another, the horrors leaped into the air with mighty flaps of their wings. The warrior loosed twice more as they flew overhead, aiming for the underbelly. Both arrowheads bounced harmlessly off the green skin.

Tellan and Rhiannon ran on and swung sharply around one end of the uprising of rocks. Many times the height of a man, the formation measured twenty strides in length and six wide. Bare boulders marked each end with a mixture of large stones, gravel, and grass comprising the middle. It offered scant protection, but anything was better than the open ground.

Rhiannon gasped for breath while her father hurriedly surveyed the jumble of rocks in the middle. He pointed to an open space between a group of man-high stones two-thirds of the way up. “We'll crawl up there and let them be our shields.”

The words were barely out his mouth when two horrors plopped down on either end of the boulders; the third stayed in the air and circled directly above. The two on the ground regarded the humans with unblinking yellow eyes, then began the particular stomach heaving that Rhiannon now recognized as preparation to belch fire.

The two forward guards joined the rear one and skidded up from the opposite end. Leaping from their mounts, they knelt and drew back their bows. But the horror they aimed at disdainfully pivoted its rear to them.

“Up these rocks, men!” Tellan bellowed, his grip an iron band around Rhiannon's arm as he pulled her up the steep slope. “Then you can shoot down at their faces.”

Halfway up, however, the loose soil gave way under her feet, and she fell heavily in a cascade of dirt and pebbles, almost losing her grip on her sword. Yanked to her feet by Tellan's strength, she stepped on the hem of her dress and stumbled back to her knees. When he pulled at her this time, his footing gave way and he slid, hitting the slope on his side. Digging into the dirt with his fingers and feet, he somehow managed to keep them both from rolling back down. They scrambled up to the narrow spaces between the stones just as a shadow passed overhead.

The horror still in the air glided down at them, wings extended, round ball bulging behind its jaws. “Red hair,” the beast snarled, the words guttural and grating. “Kill red-haired girl.”

“Down!” Tellan panted as the horror opened its mouth.

Rhiannon dove to the ground face-first just as the blast of flames broke over them. Sobbing out loud, she threw her hands over her head and tried to press herself into the soil as unseen fingers of heat touched the back of her legs. Her mouth was full of dirt, and her muscles twitched as she fought the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Growing heat came from her lower legs. Looking back, she saw that the bottom of her skirt was on fire. She stared wide-eyed as the flames spread, her muscles frozen. Her courage drained away. She was opening her mouth to scream in black despair when her father rolled over her legs, using his body to smother the fire.

“Pick up your sword, Rhiannon. We Dinari face foes with cold steel in our hands!” One side of his face was blistered from the blast, his hair singed, his tunic charred. He came to crouch, resting his blade across his knees, fingers clasping and unclasping the hilt. “Use these rocks as a shield and thrust for their eyes. These beasts think to have an easy time of it. You and I will show them different.”

His confident manner restored her. She picked up her sword and came to her knees. Her whole body trembled. Her mouth was dry, and she had no moisture to spit out the dirt still coating her tongue and lips. But she peered up at the threat from the sky, ready to join her father in the fight.

The horror was almost on them again when an arrow arched up from the other side of the slope, impacting the creature right below the eye. It jerked up, screeching in surprise. Two other shafts followed close behind with the same accuracy, one hitting the head and the second narrowly missing. The horror swerved away, flapping its wings to circle around.

Tellan called out, “Good shooting!”

A scrambling sound came from below. Rhiannon whipped around.

The other two horrors pounded up the slope, half running, half flying, rear legs churning, wings flapping. They projected a driven purpose fueled by raw hatred as they chanted, “Red hair, red hair. Kill red-haired girl!”

They sprinted straight at her, heads low to the ground, eyes glowing, front claws extended. Rhiannon brought her sword up, but her father jerked her behind a rock, covering her with his body. With an ear-shattering roar, the horrors crashed over them with the elemental fury of storm-driven waves.

Tellan pulled her sharply aside as front claws scored the granite only inches above her head. They crawled toward the next boulder.

Then a heavy rear foot slammed down, the ground shuddering under the impact that knocked them both flat.

Wickedly sharp talons curled into the dirt right before her face. A rank, oily musk filled her nostrils. She looked up at the lighter-colored underbelly and realized a horror straddled them. The wedge-shaped head swung down, mouth opening to reveal huge yellow teeth.

Her father rolled off her, sword ready, an angry growl coming from his throat. The creature's head came straight at her. Tellan surged, grunting as he stabbed for the eye—then he was gone!

The horrors bellowed in triumph.

Rhiannon scrambled to her knees, numb with disbelief. Her father's broadsword was in the mouth of one of the beasts! It spat the twisted metal out, then gazed back down at her, eyes pulsing in demonic fury.

Frantically, Rhiannon searched for her sword. Her hands finally bumped across the hilt, and she brought it up. Both beasts hissed and stepped toward her—

When suddenly she felt something
shift
.

The two horrors felt it as well. They halted, looked at each other in seeming bewilderment, their ferocity draining away like water from a cracked bucket. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhiannon noticed the third beast cartwheeling through the air, wings flapping in a desperate effort to maintain flight. It slammed into the ground with a heavy, dust-raising thud and remained motionless.

Looking back at the two before her, Rhiannon thought they seemed smaller, and the round ball behind their jaws had disappeared.

The three warriors pounded over the top of the outcropping, screaming the Dinari battle cry, bows drawn and arrows nocked. They knelt as one, took careful aim at the confused beasts, then loosed the arrows. This time the arm-long shafts penetrated deeply into flesh.

One horror collapsed at her feet with an arrow protruding from its eye. The other screeched in surprised pain as two arrowheads dug into the bones of its face, one just forward of an eye, the second a finger's length away. Whimpering, it whirled and fled back down the slope. It did not get far. With the speed of long practice, the warriors sent two more volleys into the now vulnerable horror.

It died at the foot of the rock formation, six feathered shafts embedded in its chest.

Rhiannon watched what happened next in stunned disbelief. Within the space of a few heartbeats, the bodies of the two horrors crumbled inward and blew away like dust, leaving only the bloodstained arrows to mark where they had fallen. The other two beasts that had died away from the outcropping crumbled away as well, disappearing in the spring breeze as if they had never been.

Tellan came limping back up the slope. “Daughter, are you all right?” He squatted beside her, his eyes full of love and concern as he checked her from head to toe.

She nodded, dazed. “What happened to you?”

“The horror grabbed my sword in its mouth, and before I could let go, it flung me down the slope.” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. “I am bruised, but nothing seems broken.”

Relief washed over Rhiannon like warm oil. Leaning her head against the rough surface of the stone, she took a deep breath. Never had life been so sweet! The breeze was a gentle caress across her skin; the damp, earthy smell of the rock was as fragrant as her stepmother's finest perfume. She could feel every ridge and contour of the sword hilt in her hands.

The sword she'd drawn without realizing it!

She had risen with it in her hands after her father had rolled her off Nineve. She had come to her feet, sword held correctly, ready to face the winged horrors like a true Dinari warrior!

She basked in that fact for a moment. Then, incredibly, she started to shiver.

Girard came scrambling up the slope. “I gathered up Creag and Phelan, m'lord, and kept them a safe distance away. They are unharmed.” The loreteller walked to where the closest beast had died; he picked up the arrow. “Lore come to life. And then gone.” He shook his head. “No wonder many accounts are disputed.”

“But we can kill them,” declared Nerth, who had killed the first one. “Aim for the eyes.”

Tellan rose stiffly to his feet. “Can you explain what happened just now, loreteller? What allowed the beast at the bottom to be penetrated when just moments before arrows bounced off?”

“Aye, m'lord. And the horror not being able to stay in the air.” Girard rolled the shaft back and forth in his fingers. “Then there is their appearance during the day when every account of accepted lore only mentions them during the night.”

“Night!” the youngest warrior exclaimed. “We can't hit their eyes at night!” He licked his lips. “I thought winged horrors were just stories. They can come from anywhere. We won't be safe anywhere . . . ”

Tellan touched his arm. “Easy, son. You acquitted yourself well today. And will do so again.”

The lad visibly gathered himself. He glanced at the other two warriors, embarrassed.

“And we have Covenant,” Girard said. “Some stories say Destin Faber discovered how to cut these creatures off from the power they drew from the Mighty Ones. That rendered them vulnerable to swords and arrows. Many loretellers consider those accounts untrustworthy.” He regarded Tellan soberly. “But that must be what happened here.”

“How were these horrors cut off from their power?”

“Perhaps someone, some group, or the monks at Kepploch learned to pray as did Destin Faber and the Founders.”

“How did they know that we needed this kind of prayer at this moment?”

“How indeed, m'lord? How indeed?” Girard tapped the arrowhead on his palm. “We have conflicting accounts about the battles before the Cutting of the Covenant. But if our lore is correct, then a siyyim had to be watching just now, controlling the horrors' actions.”

Rhiannon frowned. “A siyyim?”

“Spirit beings second in power only to the Mighty Ones.” Girard paused, clearly struggling to come to grips with all this. “Some say that under the right circumstances a siyyim could take control of a human body and use it to carry out the Mighty Ones' desires. Dinari clan lore does not recognize those tales.”

Tellan growled. “Where is this siyyim? If it was controlling this attack, we must expect it to continue.”

Rhiannon's breath caught. She checked the hillsides and up and down the trail. Nothing.

“I agree, m'lord,” Girard said. “Mistress Rhiannon will not be safe until it has been dealt with.”

Tellan looked at her closely. “Rhiannon? You sure you're all right?”

She nodded numbly, although the trembling was increasing and she did not think she could stand. A siyyim was after her! And after her still! Her breathing became ragged; her teeth chattered, grinding against the dirt that coated the inside of her mouth. She ran her tongue around, trying to build up enough moisture to spit the dirt out.

More winged horrors could appear at any moment!

Tellan squatted beside her again. Cupping her chin, he gazed straight into her eyes. “I am so very proud of you. You faced those beasts eye to eye and did not waver.”

She opened her mouth to tell about drawing her sword—but to her surprise, she found both her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Tellan enclosed her in his arms and rested his cheek on her head. “Sweet girl, my brave sweet girl.” He stroked her hair. “From the moment you were born, you have been special, very special indeed. Never fear, we shall hunt this siyyim and kill it or bind it or whatever we need to do.”

She knew what he referred to. All of her life she had taken secret pride in her birthing prophecy that she would be “Protectoress of the Covenant.” The prophecy was seldom mentioned, and no one—not even the monks at Kepploch—had any idea what it meant. She had envisioned grand and heroic deeds accomplished to the acclaim of all. The account of the struggle with the deranged monk and her mother's death only added to the mystique. But never, never, had Rhiannon thought it would be like this!

Although part of her mind protested that a warrior would not do so, she buried her face in the security of her father's chest and allowed deep shuddering sobs to overtake her.