by Peter Wacht
The Fearhound lowered its head then, its eyes blazing red with anger. The beast leapt into the air, its sharp claws ready to tear into Kaylie. There was nothing she could do. She held the dagger in front of her, aimed for the Fearhound’s chest. She knew she didn’t stand a chance. If only she had learned how to fight with a sword! A dagger was such a pitiful weapon against a Fearhound. She could see the creature’s sharp teeth and the saliva dripping off of them. She was going to die, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
Kaylie felt the Fearhound’s hot breath on her face, the rank odor making her gag. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she braced herself for the Fearhound’s impact. Much to her surprise, she heard a loud thunk and then all was quiet around her. Hesitantly opening her eyes, she looked down. The Fearhound that just an instant before had seen her as an easy meal now lay at her feet, a long arrow sticking out of its eye. Its snout lay nearly on top of her bare toes, the Fearhound’s spittle dripping down onto them. She jumped back, sickened by the sight of blood and saliva mixing on her flesh. She promised herself that she would never take her boots off outside of the Rock again.
More screams of pain rose above the din of battle. But this time they weren’t coming from the soldiers. An arrow streaked down from the hilltop, and then another arrow right after the first, taking both the Fearhounds circling Gregory in the eye, killing them instantly. Gregory looked around in shock, searching for the source of unexpected aid.
More arrows fell from the sky, each one striking home with pinpoint precision. A Fearhound leaping through the air and about to tear out the throat of a wounded soldier tumbled in a heap to the ground. Another Fearhound turned away from its prey upon seeing one of its companions fall to the ground dead, only to meet its own death as an arrow tore through its brain.
Thomas calmly stood atop the hill, lost in the precision of his movements. Nock. Sight. Release. Nock. Sight. Release. Beluil stood before him, his teeth bared, ready to defend his friend if any Fearhound chose to attack. Thomas’ mind was a complete blank. There was no thought. No feeling. Simply action. And as each arrow struck true, a small part of him rejoiced, imagining that every Fearhound destroyed was another prick in the skin of its master.
The remaining Fearhounds finally realized that they were under attack by a new foe and quickly located the source. Four of the creatures charged up the hill, howling their anger and snapping their jaws. Thomas waited there calmly, urging the creatures forward. He couldn’t afford to miss now, so he waited just a second longer than necessary before releasing his first arrow. The second and third sped after it, and all three hit their targets, taking three of the Fearhounds in the eye and sending them tumbling back down the hill. The fourth was too close for Thomas to nock another arrow. Dropping his bow he reached for his sword, thinking he may have miscalculated. It proved unnecessary, however.
As the Fearhound lunged for Thomas, Beluil leapt as well. It looked like two shadows colliding in the early morning light. Smashing into the Fearhound in midair, Beluil clamped its powerful jaws on the beast’s throat, tearing it out. The once fearsome creature fell to the ground lifeless. The entire skirmish came to an end in a matter of minutes.
“Thank you, my friend,” whispered Thomas, bending down to pat Beluil affectionately on his head and make sure he was all right before picking up his bow.
Gregory and the soldiers who could still stand stared around them in amazement. Sixteen Fearhounds littered their small encampment, all with a long arrow sticking out of one eye, with three more at the base of the hill. None had ever seen such a feat before. The silence was deafening, as no one knew what to do. They didn’t know how to handle the calm of a battle won that should have been lost.
Kaylie looked around as well, shivering as she measured with her eye the long white teeth of the Fearhound lying at her feet. She had come very close to dying, if not for the help of the unknown bowman. Shielding her eyes from the sun rising above the hill, her mouth opened in shock. The person on the hill did not appear as she had expected him to be.
She thought he would be tall and muscular and weathered. But he looked to be no more than a boy, and perhaps even her own age. A boy her own age? How could someone so young be so calm and confident, especially with four Fearhounds charging toward him? Who was he? How did he come to have a wolf — a very deadly wolf — as a pet? And why did he look so familiar? It all started to fit into place for her, the memories rushing back.
The boy looked down at them from his perch atop the hill, much like an eagle surveying its territory, and satisfied that everything was as it should be. For a brief moment, she thought their eyes locked, and she saw recognition in his. Much to her disappointment, his gaze passed over to her father, who stood there still as a statue just like his men.
Thomas examined the encampment, pleased to see that his and Beluil’s efforts had not been wasted. Of the twenty soldiers, more than half remained standing. He briefly locked eyes with the girl, remembering their previous encounter, and again was captured by her beauty. He tore his eyes away with some reluctance, searching for the leader of the troop and finally settling on the large man just a few feet from the girl, his hair speckled with grey. Bringing the blade of his sword to his forehead, Thomas inclined his head to the man before walking across the hilltop and out of sight, Beluil trotting behind him.
The Highland bow. Gregory had not seen that since he last talked with Talyn Kestrel a few weeks before his murder. He couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. It had happened so fast, he could barely keep track of the fight. In less than two minutes, that boy — it had to be a boy, yet how that was possible he didn’t know — had virtually wiped out a pack of Fearhounds all on his own, and had not even broken a sweat doing it. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. The same boy, he was sure, who had rescued his daughter in the Burren. Even now with the boy gone, he could make out the green eyes of their rescuer — the blazing green eyes hotter than any blacksmith’s fire. Gregory sighed with relief, glad that he and his daughter still lived.
The spell of silence that had descended upon the soldiers during their rescue abruptly ended as the soldiers all started talking at once.
“Who was that boy?” asked one.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” asked another.
“Probably one of the Sylvana,” replied a grizzled soldier to the first question.
Another answered. “No, it couldn’t be the Sylvana. There aren’t any left.”
“Maybe it’s the Raptor,” suggested a soldier who had been clawed on the leg but was still on his feet.
“No, that’s just a story,” replied the soldier who also had discounted the theory regarding the Sylvana.
“It must have been the Raptor,” interrupted another, riding over his friend. “Because that was not a story that just saved us. Besides, who else can shoot so many of the beasts in the eye? It had to be the Raptor. That’s the only explanation for it.”
“Enough,” shouted Gregory, cutting off the discussion. The soldiers looked at their leader as if they were boys whose hands had just been caught in the cookie jar. “See to the wounded. We’re returning to the Rock. If we can be attacked once, we can be attacked again.” The soldiers ran off to do as ordered.
Gregory walked over to Kaylie, taking her in his arms and hugging her. His heart had finally slowed to a normal rate.
“Father, you’re hurting me,” Kaylie said in a muffled voice, her face pressed up against her father’s shirt.
He quickly released her. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“It’s all right.” Kaylie reached out and gave her father a hug as well.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” she replied. Her father’s sigh of relief was audible.
“Good. I’m going to check on the wounded.” As her father hurried off, he turned back to her. “By the way, you will start your sword training with Kael as soon as we get back.”
K
aylie remained where she was, staring up the hill, her father’s words washing over her and having no real effect. She had gotten what she wanted, and at the moment she didn’t really care. An image of her rescuer’s face appeared in her mind. In the Burren, just like now, and the wolf was with him then too. He had actually spoken to her then. She had never thought that she would see him again, and like before now hoped there would be a next time.
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