At the sound of the rock cat’s howl, the adults began herding the smaller ones toward the widening of the byway and the safety of the shelter.
“Stop!” Aron cried before he thought better of it. The sound tore at his dry throat, and had no force behind it.
Tek lurched forward against her tether to Stormbreaker’s talon. “Be still!” Aron croaked. “Give them no movement to sense!”
But it was far too late for such warnings.
Moonslight or no, mockers and manes—and in this area of Eyrie, rock cats—ruled the night.
CHAPTER SIX
ARON
Tek shrilled as a massive rock cat slunk out of the absolute darkness of the trees on Aron’s left. And another. And another. More. Aron couldn’t see their tawny coloring, but he knew them well from many near encounters. Even in the dark, he could make out the heavily muscled, wickedly clawed forepaws, and his mind supplied the thick fangs hanging over bearded chins flecked with blood and drool.
“Brother of Many Faces, have mercy,” Zed murmured. “A pack.” He started to climb down from his mule, but Stormbreaker stopped him with a gesture.
Many yards below them on the byway, the children started to scream and scatter. The lead cat bounded forward, snatched the smallest and slowest of the little ones, and shook it like a helpless cloth doll. A woman, presumably the child’s mother, wailed.
Aron’s stomach twisted at the sound. If he had taken any water or food, he would have lost it. As it was, bitter fluid surged up his throat.
“Zed, stay with the wagons and see to the girl and Aron.” Stormbreaker drew a toothy broadsword and hacked through the lead tethering Tek with one stroke. “Keep his talon safe if you can; cut him loose and cover him in the wagon if you can’t.”
Before Aron could say a word, Zed had Tek’s lead and Stormbreaker and Windblown had swords at the ready. They let out an undulating cry that frightened Aron almost as much as the rock cats, but he had heard of such. He knew what they were doing—goading the bull talons into a frenzy.
The big males needed little prompting. Hungry and no doubt fierce of temper from their long travels, they bellowed in response, and the long, sharp scales at their necks lifted to form battle rings around their massive heads.
The rock cats halted their charge toward the remaining travelers and wheeled to defend themselves. Aron counted twelve—no, wait. Fifteen! Even with talons, the Stone Brothers had no chance against such numbers.
His breath caught hard, a weight in his chest. If the rock cats slaughtered the men, Aron would be free … but the rock cats would eat the travelers, too, and likely Zed, Aron, Tek, the girl, and the mules as well.
How could Aron escape?
Even if he found a tall enough tree to climb, one of the smaller cats might be able to leap high enough to snag him.
Stormbreaker and Windblown thundered toward the ruthless predators, shouting even as their bull talons bellowed. Dust rose and scattered in the moonslight. Windblown’s beast unfolded powerful wings and flapped, lifting off the ground just high enough to escape the lead cat’s leap. Talons couldn’t fly high, but they could stay aloft for a few seconds, about double a normal man’s height, and the ability gave them an advantage in most battles. Windblown shouted with triumph as his talon landed on another rock cat, crushing it in its tracks.
The pungent smell of blood and excrement flooded up the hill. Aron choked against the stench, but kept his gaze firmly on the battle.
Stormbreaker’s talon stayed landbound as he roared around the pack, cutting off access to the travelers who had fallen down screaming with fear.
“Go!” he commanded to the distraught woman, who was futilely tugging at the dead child. Stormbreaker cut down a leaping cat only a hand’s width from his leg. “Get inside now. You there, in the shelter—help them!”
His snarling talon reached down and snatched up a rock cat with his powerful jaws. Aron’s heart hammered as the beast broke the cat like a thin stick, then threw it aside to eat later.
Four down, but still so many up and attacking, snarling, digging into the ground and launching themselves at the Stone Brothers and the furious winged lizards.
Aron’s thoughts whirled with the growing cloud of dust that shifted and glittered in the moonslight. One moment, he was praying for the Stone Brothers, and the next, hoping they died horribly. He thought about goading Tek. She could rip her lead from Zed’s hands without much difficulty—but there Aron would be, bound and helpless, fleeing into the woods and likely straight into the paws and jaws of more rock cats and the Brother only knew what else.
Down the byway, Windblown rode out of the swirling dust and skewered a cat with each sword, then used his heels to kick the corpses off the blades. He barely got his feet stirrupped before his talon took flight again, just in time to avoid the murderous claws of a third cat. Zed hooted his appreciation. Aron was too afraid to scream, hoot, or curse.
Stormbreaker emerged from the cloud and attempted to drive the pack remnants back toward Aron and Zed and the wagons, away from the helpless travelers, but he was having little fortune in that respect. At least the frightened people were moving now, running toward the shelter—and other travelers already safe inside were lowering the steps for them to enter.
Tek’s neck scales flipped up in a battle ring and she trumpeted as one of the rock cats barreled toward them. Her weak foreclaws slashed out, and her pitiful wings stretched as if to lift her little body skyward, but Aron knew she didn’t have a hope of success.
The sound of his own shouts filled his ears. The world seemed to move too slowly as that cat got closer, closer. Aron could see its gleaming eyes, feel the rip of its teeth. His shouts turned into screams of rage and frustration as he yanked against his tethers.
Windblown saw the attack coming, shouted to Zed, but Zed had already mounted the front wagon. As the cat approached, before it got close enough to Tek to draw blood, Zed hacked through the bonds on Aron’s hands and stuffed a slim dagger into Aron’s numb, blood-covered fingers.
“Keep the girl alive or answer to me,” Zed shouted, and flung himself at the charging rock cat.
The cat roared.
Zed roared louder, and Aron gaped as the boy tackled the cat and rolled with it back down the hill. He shook his head to clear his senses, then cursed and fumbled to release the ties on his feet. His jaw clenched. The knot was too tight. His fingers felt clumsy and useless and he almost dropped the dagger as he sawed it back and forth. If one of those cats attacked, he was finished, and Tek along with him.
He had to get loose. Now. Now! Drifting dust made him cough, and the awful stench of gore kept his eyes tearing. Still he worked, and worked fast, sawing, pushing, cutting through the rope.
Farther down the road, the bull talons shrieked as rock cats slashed at their tender flanks. Aron heard the bloody sounds of sword work. At last he managed to cut the remaining tie on his foot. When he jerked upward, he had to push up on Tek’s neck to see over her battle ring.
Only two rock cats remained standing. Zed picked himself up from the carcass of the cat he battled. In the swelling moonslight, Aron saw dark stains all over the boy.
Zed’s blood? The cat’s?
No matter. Aron knew he could make a run for it now, but Tek’s agitation had to be calmed. He tried to whistle to her, soothe her—and then he saw what troubled her. Fear and exhilaration flowed into abject terror, and Aron froze in place, not daring to move.
More rock cats circled the bull talons.
Only, too big. More like small oxen than anything feline, and not right in proportion. The heads were overlarge, and the paws seemed misshapen, almost clublike.
Zed raised his long dagger in victory, then, at a hand signal from Windblown, raced back up the hill toward Aron and the wagons. Aron was vaguely aware of something slipping away—his best opportunity for escape—but he couldn’t take his eyes off the unnatural rock cats.
Dust settled slowly back to the ground,
revealing more and more of their tense, muscled frames.
The talons treated them with great wariness.
Beneath Aron’s legs and hands, Tek trembled. Aron trembled with her.
Zed reached the wagons, saw Aron’s face and Tek’s posture, and whirled, long dagger raised.
“Mockers,” Aron managed to whisper. “Two of them.”
“Brother of Many Faces, have mercy.” Zed lowered his dagger, ran the rest of the way to the wagons, climbed aboard, and put his hand on Aron’s shoulder.
On the byway, the rock cats began to change.
Aron huddled on Tek’s back as Zed shrank into the wagon.
The largest mocker cat took on the shape of a man with hooked nails as long as a talon’s neck scales. His screech of rage made Aron’s teeth slam together. The smaller rock cat took on a man-shape as well, more feminine—and this one had wings.
“Wings,” Zed babbled. “It flies.”
“Hush.” Aron elbowed him. “They might sound-hunt as well as using their eyes and noses.”
“But it has wings,” Zed whispered. “They don’t have wings, the ones around Triune. I’ve never seen a mocker with wings.”
Aron had.
He had seen winged mockers before, and all of them had been able to spit. Their venom could flay a man, or blind him, or eat the scales off a talon. The last mocker he had encountered at home was a little one, just a crow—but its man-form had wings, and it had killed one of his hogs with a single jet from its fetid mouth.
Tek flinched as if in response to the image.
Aron sucked in a breath.
Did the Stone Brothers know about winged mockers? If they didn’t …
If they didn’t, this could all be finished in seconds. The Stone Brothers and their talons would be dead, and Aron could take on Zed and free himself, Tek, and the girl.
The winged mocker circled Windblown.
Part of Aron’s mind screamed for the mocker to attack, to dissolve the Stone Brother and his talon, too. The other part of Aron’s mind rebelled against that viciousness. Windblown was a living being, and his talon—did the brave, powerful animal deserve such a death?
Windblown stabbed at the mocker. With a flap of its wings, it shot backward out of his reach.
Aron saw its neck arch, and he knew what was coming.
“It can spit!” he managed to yell. “Winged mockers can spit venom!”
Windblown’s head snapped upward. He jerked his talon sideways, and the beast leaped away from the winged mocker just as it—she—spat.
The venom landed on the dead child and sizzled.
Aron’s stomach wrenched. After seeing what happened to his hog, he knew there would be nothing left of that little one for the mother to burn and scatter.
Windblown charged forward on his talon before the winged mocker could spit again, and he slashed at her.
She evaded. Spat again. This time the venom struck the dirt road, and once more Aron saw steam rise from the spot.
“Hit her in the wings!” he yelled, slicing the air with his fist as if Windblown could see him. “Bring her down!”
Windblown’s talon danced and lunged. The winged mocker spat twice more, almost landing both streams on the beast’s clawfeet. The talon trumpeted. Aron nudged Tek’s sides with his heels, and she answered the bull with a high-pitched whistle.
The winged mocker turned to track the new sound.
With a thrust and hack, Windblown sheered off one of the distracted monster’s wings. It shrilled and spat toward the stars, searing nothing but air and grass and dirt. It tried to turn, but Windblown leaned forward and took the mocker’s head with a clean stroke.
Next to the carnage, the clawed mocker swiped at Stormbreaker and leaped. Stormbreaker yanked his mount out of harm’s way. Windblown shouted and stabbed at the mocker’s back. It whirled on him, and Stormbreaker jerked upward on his talon’s reins. The big bull leaped into the air with a powerful flap of its wings.
Without a cloud in the bright night sky, lightning blazed directly over the talon. Thunder rattled the night and seemed to pound against Aron’s head.
Stormbreaker bellowed with the talon when it landed, and together, man and beast crushed the clawed mocker into bones and blood.
Aron turned his head away from that sight, and kept it turned as the Stone Brothers allowed their talons the noisy reward of feeding on their kills. His skin felt clammy. So many rock cats—and led by mockers? He had never heard of mockers hunting with pure animals. His mind whirled like that flock of passerines he had seen earlier in the day. Dead heirs. The throne destined for the hob-prince. Mockers consorting with animals. And a Brailing of Brailing Harvested by the Stone Guild.
Elhalla.
Curse fate and its turning, too.
What was happening in Eyrie?
Zed gave a little yelp, and Aron jerked his eyes upward to see Stormbreaker and Windblown charging back up the hill. Wild energy roiled from Stormbreaker, almost as if the man towed a thunderstorm in his wake—and there was lightning, real lightning, from a cloudless sky!
For a moment, the lightning struck in all directions. Then it drew toward Stormbreaker, blasting holes in the ground and burning the bark off of nearby trees.
Aron felt his hair lift off his head. He leaned back in spite of himself, and Tek took a nervous step backward as well. From the back wagon, the unconscious girl let out a low moan of terror.
“Don’t worry,” said Zed in a quiet, almost friendly voice. “He’s just provoked from the battle and worry over us. Stormbreaker would never use his legacy to harm another living creature.”
When Aron turned to look at the boy, who was stripping off his garments, Zed shrugged and added, “Just the sight of it scares everyone so badly, I’ve never known him to have to.”
Aron closed his eyes and set his jaw.
With his hands and feet unbound, he could turn Tek around and run for the trees—but if he fled now, Stormbreaker could cut him down with a single bolt of that unnatural lightning.
A legacy that allows him to tamper with natural elements? What is he?
None of the six dynasts boasted that power as part of a legacy. It must be a bastard talent, some freak occurrence reaching back to the mixing disasters.
But it’s dangerous. More than dangerous! Why was he allowed to live?
Because he had never used it to harm another living creature, as Zed said. The question answered itself. Stormbreaker contained his talent and never used it, even when it would give him great advantage. Too great was the danger it might escape his control.
Yet there is always a first time….
Aron opened his eyes as Stormbreaker and Windblown reached the wagons. The lightning was nothing but sparks now, fading into Stormbreaker’s lean, muscled frame. With his cowl lying about his shoulders, his wild hair seemed more yellow than white, and his eerie green eyes blazing, Stormbreaker looked as feral and dangerous as the rock cats he had killed.
“Are you injured?” Stormbreaker asked Aron immediately, even as Windblown, sweat-soaked and still breathing hard, guided his talon toward the back wagon.
“No, High Master,” Aron murmured.
The words simply came out, with no thought to hold them back. Spots still danced before Aron’s eyes, crystalline and unnerving, in the shape of lightning bolts. He could never overpower such a man. Tears pressed against his eyes, but Aron held them back even as he forced himself to meet Stormbreaker’s gaze. How could he escape a villain who could set the very clouds and thunder to track him, and rain and lightning to pound him into the mud until captors could reach him?
Stormbreaker remained silent for a moment, as if hearing every hopeless thought in Aron’s troubled mind. When the High Master spoke, his tone was genuine. “Thank you for your warning, Frosteye, and for using Tek to help us in battle. You have a gallant heart as well as a quick mind.”
Aron wanted to vomit. He lowered his head and sat in silence, throat closing against the
reek of battle blood and talon oil. The big winged lizards excreted a slick, odorous film on their scales when roused to frenzy. He had no doubt Tek was covered in the slime, too, and it smelled no better than a rabbit dead two days and left in the sun. The two males would clean themselves, but Tek—Aron sighed. He usually had to lead her into a stream and wipe her down.
“Intact,” Windblown announced, pounding Zed on the back. “Just a scratch or two. You had me worried, boy.”
Zed had finished removing his battle-soiled clothes. He stood naked in the back wagon beside the sleeping girl while Windblown bent down, reached over the wagon’s side, and retrieved a gray tunic and some breeches from the supply bundles. He handed them to Zed like a prize for a task well done.
Zed dressed with haste, stopping only to ask, “Will we be sheltering, or will the travelers close us out?”
“We’ll shelter,” Windblown said. “They’ll put down the steps, or we’ll climb up. I’ve no mind to spend the night with mockers and manes.” He tossed a glance at Aron. “Or wild Brailings.”
Stormbreaker’s snort sounded like that of a talon. He grabbed Tek’s lead and turned them all toward the shelter and the barn. “Take Zed and the girl and go inside, Osfred. Tell them she’s ill, or exhausted. Tell them whatever you like. That mother who lost a child will need soothing, maybe even a sleeping draft. Aron and I will tend to the beasts and keep watch, and we’ll manage whatever comes.”
Aron looked up sharply.
Was Stormbreaker suggesting they would spend the night outside the shelter? If so, the Stone Brother was two leagues beyond mad.
Even Windblown seemed put off by such crazy talk. “Are you sure, Dun? The boy’s newly taken.”
Stormbreaker’s jewel-bright eyes fixed on Aron as he spoke. “Did he not help us in battle?”
“But—” Windblown protested as Aron squirmed on Tek’s back, all too aware of the High Master’s stern gaze.
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