There was a rush of wings as several more shapes plunged from the sky.
Shea watched in dismay, unable to believe they were being dive-bombed by nightfliers. It wasn’t possible. The nightfliers left the pathfinders at the Keep alone. They had considerable experience in how difficult the pathfinders could be as prey, so they tended to avoid them.
Several boomers barked as the sentries suddenly found themselves under siege.
“Shea, get back,” Trenton shouted, grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her out of the way.
Just in time, as an oddly shaped bat-like creature landed in the spot she’d occupied. It had a humanoid face with overly large, pointed ears on the sides of its head. It was pitch-black and seemed to blend with the night—probably one of the reasons no one saw it coming.
What it wasn’t, was a nightflier.
“Shea,” Trenton shouted, snapping her out of her examination.
The thing leapt forward, its rear claws outstretched as it tried to snatch her off the balustrade. She leaned back, scrambling out of its way. She had no wish to be dropped from this height to splatter below.
Trenton was there in the next second, swinging his sword in a swift arc. It cut across the creature’s neck, severing it in one clean swing.
All around them, similar creatures dropped, harrying those stationed along the wall.
Beasts poured from the chasm below the Keep, their thick claws digging into the stone as they continued to climb up to where the pathfinders and Trateri fought for their lives.
Fallon’s voice drifted up as he barked order after order, rallying both pathfinders and Trateri alike, to meet the sudden surge. Even as she watched, more of Fallon’s warriors poured outside, armed and ready for battle—their faces alight at the promise of violence.
Eamon’s warning—and Shea had no doubt that was what it had been—gave them valuable time to prepare. Fallon had spent the hour prior to the assault marshaling his men, putting together a strategy if they were to be attacked.
The Trateri were more used to being on the other side of the battle—the aggressor rather than defender—but Fallon had a good idea of what was needed to hold the Keep. His men moved together as they put those plans into place.
A Trateri battle horn sounded below, a signal to those on the wall.
From her spot above, she could see even with all their preparation, it might not be enough. A bat creature rose into the air, a body clutched in its claws as another latched onto the person’s legs. Together, the two creatures tore the person apart before dropping the two pieces back to the ground.
“You need to get below. Now!” Trenton snapped, seeing the same thing she did. It was becoming too dangerous for anybody to be outside—pathfinder and Trateri alike.
Shea’s gaze lifted to the sky, darker than it should be. The light from the stars and moon was obscured. It could be clouds had drifted overhead. Somehow, she doubted that, instead fearing the bat creatures had massed above.
“I think you’re right,” she said in a soft voice.
She didn’t wait for him to respond, darting for the stairs at the end of the wall. Trenton scrambled after her as she dodged battling people and beasts.
Encountering Gawain where he tangled with one of the creatures, she ordered, “Come with me.”
He frowned at her in irritation. The creature claimed his attention in the next instant and he shoved it away, swinging his sword in a mighty stroke, cleaving its body in half.
“I don’t have time to escort you inside,” he snapped.
“Look,” she pointed up.
His eyes lifted to where she indicated.
“There are more coming,” she explained. “You can’t successfully fight those above and the ones below.”
“You want us to retreat?” The scorn in that statement let her know his opinion of that option.
Shea’s sigh was frustrated. She wished it had been anybody but Gawain up here. He was probably the most hard-headed and difficult of the clan leaders to convince. There was also the fact she didn’t trust him.
This could be a mistake, but she’d spoken true. She needed more bodies to have any hope of her plan working.
There was also the fact that Gawain was a much better marksman than she was. She was passable with a blade but rubbish with a boomer or bow and arrow.
