“Alive?” came a distant bellow, one he recognized. Antas of the Boar.
“If you want to call it that,” said another above him.
Hail Storm blinked at the muck in his eyes, trying to understand what was happening. He lifted a hand to rub the crust away, bringing his swollen arm into sight, oozing pus and pulsing red. The pain hit then, and he grit his teeth as it washed over him.
Hands reached down, grabbing his arms, legs, and shoulders, and lifted him. His vision blackened as the agony raced through him.
“Bring him.” Antas stood between him and the sun, his blond hair and beard glowing in the light.
Hands supported him, and half-marched, half-carried him forward.
“Antas.” Veritt came up to walk beside. Hail Storm fought to focus on his words. “There’s more dead than I care to say. I will have a count later. The tents are all torn down and destroyed, but our supplies and gear are in decent shape.” Veritt took a breath. “We lost children to those creatures.”
Antas stopped dead in his tracks and swore. He stood for a long moment, contemplating the skies. Hail Storm used the precious moments to find his feet and push the trembling from his limbs.
“I’d think the elements had cursed us,” Antas said finally. “Except the same death and destruction seems to have fallen on the Heart. Perhaps we are all cursed.” Hail Storm caught Antas’s glance in his direction. “Still,” Antas continued. “No plan survives the enemy.”
“Truth,” Veritt replied.
Antas dropped his voice. “The other prisoner?”
“Secure,” Veritt said. “The tent was torn down around them, and two of the guards killed, but the others kept their post and saw to her.”
Antas grunted. “Set a watch on the skies, and have the others scrounge what they may. We will move camp.”
Veritt bowed his obedience, then jerked his head toward Hail Storm. “This one cannot ride,” he reminded Antas. “The horses reject him.”
Antas grunted as they both considered Hail Storm.
“I will be well soon enough,” Hail Storm insisted, trying to stand on his own.
“So you have been saying, yet I see no improvement,” Antas said. “I will deal with this,” he said to Veritt, who bowed his head again, and headed off, calling instructions.
“Bring him,” Antas commanded. Hail Storm found himself moving through the grasses, only now he could see the destruction around him.
They stopped.
Before them was the body of a huge winged animal pierced by a half-dozen lances. Horns on its head, black and curling. The beast still lived, its tail quivering in its death-throes.
“What—” Hail Storm coughed to clear his throat. “What is that?”
“I do not know,” Antas said, standing beside him. “I had hoped you would. I do know that whatever they are, they have wreaked havoc on my plans.”
“They?” Hail Storm frowned. His wounded arm hung heavy at his side, and throbbed with the beat of his heart. He lifted it, holding it up with his other hand.
“They filled the skies,” Antas said. There was pain and wonder in his voice. “I’d gathered my warriors to assault the Council tent and take Essa prisoner.” Antas’s voice hardened. “We saw a line of black on the horizon, and within moments they were overhead, attacking anything that moved. My proud warriors, dead all around me, and the only safety lay in cowardice. Face down on the ground, still and silent.”
The creature before them groaned and rolled, sending warriors scattering. “Get back, you stupid fools,” Antas shouted as the tail lashed out in all directions.
All got clear as the beast gave a final moan and died. The tail fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.
“The only good news,” Antas said, voice oddly calm, “is that so far as we could see, the Council tent was torn down and their losses are equal with mine.”
Hail Storm stayed silent, just looking at the huge beast with its curling horns.
Antas looked around, and Hail Storm followed his gaze. Even with fevered, blurry eyes he could see the ruined tents and the dead warriors still lying where they had fallen.
“So for now, I must rely on allies,” Antas almost seemed to be talking to the skies. “Ietha, Loual, and that hot-head Wyrik. They will have to deal with what has happened. The others, the neutral Warlords, will be watching to see how the winds blow. I really don’t blame them. The herd follows the strongest mare.” He rolled his shoulders. “No. The blame for this rests on Keir and his ilk.” He gestured toward the creature.
