“Could this beast call be the cause of this?” Fallon shouted, reining his horse to a stop next to the pathfinder.
Although there were plenty of mounts with each of his men bringing four to enable them to switch off when their first mount got tired, Fallon had not given Reece one. He’d wanted the other man tired and irritated from the journey.
Reece looked lost as he stared at the eagles as they pecked at something in the rocks. Fallon took heart, seeing their continued preoccupation as a sign that they’d been unsuccessful in their hunt.
“I don’t know,” Reece finally said. “I’ve never seen them act like this. It’s against their nature.”
“So, it’s the beast call.”
He shook his head. “A call shouldn’t be able to control them. Its sole purpose is to summon a beast. It doesn’t pick the beast and certainly doesn’t guide its actions.”
Fallon thought they needed to revisit that assumption. What he was seeing contradicted that statement. It was the only explanation.
“We need to get those eagles away from the cliffs.” The words ‘and Shea’ went unspoken. To the men who still stood guard over the pathfinder, Fallon said, “Put him on a horse and get him to the cliffs.”
There would be some protection afforded by tucking in close to the cliffs. For a short time at least.
Fallon let out a war cry, summoning his men as he galloped towards Shea. Half of his army was still strung out along the cliff, looking for the entrance that Fallon was half convinced didn’t exist. Those that heard him galloped towards him, forming a wave around him, Fallon at the tip of the spear. He slowed the gallop. They needed to distract those birds.
In the distance, Braden had formed the men that couldn’t answer Fallon’s call, creating a square, archers inside, spearmen on the outside. The men fell into line easily, having practiced the movement several times during the journey to Bearan’s Fault. They’d learned from the first attack. The golden eagles would not find them such easy prey this time.
“What’s your order?” Caden shouted next to him.
“Have Braden’s men harry the eagles. The rest ride with me.”
Fallon whistled and the men around him broke off, following him without question or doubt as he rode back out onto the wide-open plains. The cliffs receded behind them, but not quickly enough for what Fallon had planned.
They were bait. Harrying the eagles would only do so much. Moving bait would pull them off their victim.
A bugle sounded behind them. It was the signal Fallon had been waiting for. He let out another cry and the ranks split, groups breaking off to form a large square, spearmen on the outside edge and archers on the inner edge of the square.
Fallon took a position inside the square on the side where the eagles would attack. He shouted his order. “Archers to the ready.”
His men reached for their bows.
“Nock arrows.”
Only the sound of heavy breathing and horses shifting was heard.
“Hold.”
The eagles grew in size until Fallon could count the spots on one.
“Draw.”
That was close enough.
“Loose arrows.”
The arrows released with a series of twangs. In a smooth movement, his archers knocked their next arrow and drew back their strings.
“Loose.”
Another volley of arrows flew.
One eagle screeched and pulled back, the powerful beat of its wings taking it higher into the air. Its companion kept coming, attempting to snatch a man off the line. Fallon was there with spear in hand, jabbing up into its stomach. Other spearmen joined him, some glancing off its protective feathers, a few finding their mark.
It peeled off to join its companion in the air. Together they circled.
