WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(82)

She had its attention. The creature flapped its dark, leathery wings, gaining height and following.

Even in her panic, Snowfall watched over her shoulder, eyes wide, as the creature used the power to launch itself in flight. What manner of beast?—but she cut that thought off, concentrating, weaving the ribbons from her hands, fleeing away, drawing the threat from the children, away from Simus.

The monster followed, taking flight and gaining.




He was going to kill her.

Simus almost howled when Snowfall created the distraction, successfully luring the creature away.

He urged his horse after them, and the animal responded with a leap, galloping along. He gripped his mount with his legs, and continued to launch arrow after arrow.

But the arrowheads didn’t pierce, didn’t even make it turn its head to look.

Its prey was Snowfall, and in another few feet—

“Circle,” Simus bellowed. His lance; it was the only hope of a kill.

Snowfall never looked back, but her horse began to turn as it ran. The creature shifted its flight.

Simus guided his horse to run alongside it.

The creature ignored him, intent on its prey. Simus reached for the lance in its quiver. One shot—he’d have one throw.

A tremor of fear for Snowfall passed through him, but Simus pushed it down and away, focusing on the beast, on the wings, waiting for them to rise, to give him that one precious target, one throw at the lungs— The creature flapped its wings to gain height, and then plunged down with its wings spread high and wide, extending its claws at Snowfall’s back, shrieking its rage— —exposing its chest.

Simus threw. And he threw true.

The creature screamed, even as its claws plunged down. Snowfall’s horse stumbled, and both she and the horse fell into the grasses.

The creature screamed again, biting at the lance, then it hit the earth, tumbling and writhing, its tail lashing about as it struggled. Clods of earth and grass flew as flailed about, its wings beating desperately against the ground.

“Snowfall,” Simus whispered in a wordless prayer to all the elements. He dismounted and ran forward as her horse struggled to its feet.

He found her in the grass, face-down and limp. His hands trembled as he turned her over, her face bruised and scraped.

“Snowfall,” he called, checking for wounds on her arms and legs, checking—

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped in air, clutching at his shoulders. He pulled her into a hug, relief flowing through him. But Snowfall was pushing him back, and he released her for fear— She took his face in her hands, pulled him close, and kissed him.

The taste of Snowfall exploded in Simus’s mouth.

Her lips were warm and sweet. Simus closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her tight and reveled in the pure pleasure of the kiss. But in a breath Snowfall jerked back, her eyes wide as the same thought struck both of them.

“The children,” they both breathed.

Simus pulled her to her feet and they both scanned the grass around them. The creature lay dead, their horses close, but all that was to be seen was grass. The thea tents were gone. Simus took a few steps, his heart in his throat. They’d run in an arc...the bodies...

“Oh skies, no,” Snowfall started to run with him, speaking under her breath. “Skies and stars and sacred fires, please—” Her voice was half sob, her prayer his.

A gurtle head popped up from the grasses, looking about. “Muwaaaap,” it called as it staggered up.

Simus sucked in a breath, running full out. “Elements, please—”

Horns sounded from where the thea tents had been, and warbling cries rose, calling to the children. The pit in Simus’s stomach grew as the wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of blood and death.

“Muwaap, muwaap.” More gurtle heads popped out of the grasses as the herd rose and complained.

Pive’s head popped up as well.

Simus’s knees went weak, stumbling in his relief, but he kept running as four more little heads appeared. Alive. They were alive.

“Praise the elements,” Snowfall choked out.

Simus kept running.

Pive was blowing her horn in response to the theas’s call. She squealed in surprise when Simus scooped her up and hugged her. For just an instant, she hugged him fiercely, and then pushed back at his chest. “Warlord,” she protested, and struggled to be let down.

Snowfall knelt, gathered the others, checking them for injury. Simus closed his eyes in relief. None were harmed.

The gurtles had not been so lucky.

“What were those things?” Simus demanded of Snowfall.

“I have no idea.” She rose to her feet, looking back at the huge, dead monster.

Warriors ran from the thea camp toward them, Seo at the lead. Behind them, huffing and puffing, was Hanstau.

The warriors formed a circle around the children, bows and swords at the ready. Seo strode toward Simus as Hanstau checked the children. Other warriors watched the skies.

“Those things attacked and wrecked our tents.” Seo faced Simus. “I’ve deaths among my warriors, and dead horses.” He nodded toward the huge carcass. “What is that thing?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Simus said.

“I do,” said Hanstau.





Chapter Thirty-Three