Something large screeched in defiance and rage, and then Talac saw it, or the dark shadow of it, descending from the sky at a scary speed. No details at first, just the fact that its wing span was enormous. Larger than six men standing lined up with their arms outstretched. And then all he noticed was its claws, huge, sharp needle tips reflecting the glow of the flames leaping from the brasseries as the gryfalcon dive bombed them.
Releasing another screech as it flew too close to a steel spike mounted on top of the bathhouse. As it veered away a wave of crossbolts and arrows followed it. Talac’s eyes glued to the creature as it soared upwards, before Poulth elbowed him sharply. “Look lively, there’ll be more coming.”
Two more dark winged nightmares sailed over the battlements. Flaming arrows turning the night sky into day briefly. Talac staring in awe at the creatures, their feathers starting off brown at the crowns of their heads, turning darker lower on their backs and bellies. Their beaks long, the tips hooked, better for tearing into things Talac surmised. One of the birds attempted to land on the battlements but a stream of guards with pikes, backed up by flaming crossbolts sent the creature awkwardly flying off.
They were so large, the gryfalcons couldn’t land, not with all the spiked flag poles and steel tipped pikes mounted on the building rooftops. They’d either take damage or wouldn’t have room to take flight again. Though that didn’t seem to deter their first attacker, the largest bird, as it dive bombed down, aiming for the group guarding the stables. Its wings frantically beating to keep it hovering aloft several feet off the ground. Talac’s hair blown back as he ducked, swinging his sword swiftly at a scrabbling clawed foot, looking to cause any damage it could.
His sword smacked against the bird’s claw, but the skin was so dense and tough, it bounced off, his blade proving all but useless against the immense creature. Ducking lower again, to avoid a swipe of those needle tipped claws, Talac kept swinging, noting the crossbow bolts hitting the creature’s feathered underbelly were falling back away, the feathers too thick to breach. Cruddy hell.
“The eyes!” Someone yelled, he thought it was Alia, still by his side, her sword coming up to block a scrabbling claw as it dipped slightly lower in Talac’s direction. Dirt and dust flying everywhere as the creature’s wings continued to flap at a frantic pace, creating a miniature wind storm.
Their ranks of defence thinned momentarily as those with bows and crossbolts raced off to get a better angle at the bird’s head. Thankfully the leaping flames from the brasserie reflected off the wide dark eyes of the gryfalcons, making them prominent targets.
A defiant screech ripping through the night, the hovering bird suddenly flinching away and upwards, flying off. Talac straightened, already looking around for the other two birds. But there was no sign of them. His attention returning to the largest gryfalcon circling high overhead, its wingspan blocking the light of the moon occasionally. Around him everyone was breathing heavily, likewise watching the sky. Waiting.
The bird squawked, the sound piercing, as two dark shadows sailed upwards to flank it, all three circling now, around and around, as if scouting for something particular and failing to find it. Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably only minutes, the creatures turned and headed westwards.
“Report.” Poulth demanded loudly. “I’ve got this.” She murmured in an aside to Alia, the lieutenant striding off, shouting out directions as she went. Directing some to the infirmary, others to check on those on the battlements and others still to clean up the mess the skirmish had left behind.
Absently cleaning his sword on his trouser leg before sheathing it, Talac released a deep breath. A few puzzle pieces had just slotted into place. The sheer size of the keymoats, the Lair’s horses and now the gryfalcons. It was somehow connected to whatever was in those barrels. Requiring a Beast to rule over it all. Turning, he gazed intently at Alia.
“Time for some answers. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Beast?” He expected any number of responses. Compliance. Defiance. Misdirection. What he wasn’t expecting was for Alia to gift him a sassy smile, blue eyes sparkling.
“And deny you the satisfaction of discovering the answers for yourself? I wouldn’t be that cruel. And now I truly am headed to my chambers. Goodnight.”
Talac watched her stride away, coming to several conclusions in that moment. That he liked that Alia Gloomenthrall was no push over and more importantly, he discovered himself to be a newly converted advocate of women wearing trousers. The view as she departed, long limbs topped by a nicely rounded ass that swayed with her quick stride stirred his libido.
Whoa, here was a woman who could make him lose all sense and self-control if he wasn’t careful… the idea startling to a man who had put King and the Realm first since the cradle. One who’d always been nothing but bemused and a little contemptuous of men who became entangled in the web of an unsuitable woman. But now, faced with Alia’s rough earthy charms, Talac found himself… intrigued.
Damn, he must be tired. Admittedly it had been a long day; the tour of the Lair, his challenge with Alia, and now a face-off with three deadly creatures of a size that was gobsmacking. He needed rest, that was all, to recharge and to remind himself of who he was, what he valued; King and the Realm. Lecturing himself sternly that his fascination was with the Beast, the myth, the legend… not the woman behind it all.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun must rise soon. This dreadful night had to end… didn’t it? Perri was woozy with lack of sleep, exhausted to her very bones.
Brandth had been restless and feverish during the first part of the evening. Moaning with pain any time he mindlessly kicked out with his broken leg. Refusing to keep a blanket, sheet, or even clothes on because he kept muttering about how hot he was.
Perri’s own cheeks had turned bright red to match his, as she attempted to at least get Brandth to allow her to drape a modesty rag over his private bits. Naturally the man would be contrary, flinging it away every time she turned her attention elsewhere.
Resolutely Perri tried not to look… there, but call her a curious healer, noting his Lordship had fair bragging rights when it came to his equipment. After a cursory glance, okay, two glances, she’d been too busy dealing with her tossing, turning, superheated patient to care.
Applying damp cool cloths to all his limbs and chest. Replacing them constantly as they grew hot against his feverish skin all too quickly.
He drank down water by the gallon, sweating it out just as fast. His golden hair turning dark, wet with perspiration. Every two hours she dumped an elixir down Brandth’s throat, not that he seemed to notice. Caught between waking and sleeping, but never actually resting. He muttered a few names, but mainly his utterances were mumbled curses and groans of pain.
Several times Perri had contemplated tying his broken limb to the bedpost to try and keep it still, but watching him move so restlessly she’d been afraid it would do more harm.
There had been a few moments of respite when he seemed to calm, allowing Perri to snatch precious catnaps in the chair beside his bed, waking to uncomfortable cricks in her neck and back.
Eventually, as the moon headed towards the horizon, Brandth’s fever appeared to recede. He was no longer sweating profusely, whilst his skin was slightly cooler to the touch. He moved less frequently and his sleep appeared deeper, and hopefully more restful.
Perri draped a sheet over his nudity, before repositioning the more comfortable armchair located by the unused fireplace so she had a better view of her patient before collapsing down onto it. Releasing a deep sigh before closing her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept in this armchair, yet despite her exhaustion she could not drift off.
At first Perri was too warm. Unpinning the veil covering her face, and rolling back the sleeves of her dress. That helped for a few short minutes. But then her head started to ache, her chignon pinned too tightly. Hurriedly she dragged out all the pins, gathering it in a simple tail with a piece of silver cord.
Finally, she gave up on sleep and just contemplated her patient. There was no chance of him catching her staring, the loose bandage wrapped around his eyes was still in place.
He really was a handsome man, and he knew it. Not above using his looks to get his own way, but in such a manner that you felt like you were in on some pleasant joke, and not being made fun of or taken advantage of.
