The Lightning Storm

 Lightning flared across the sky and lingered when he closed his eyes as though precepts inscribed on their lids by the hand of an angry god. They rode on past the shadows of distant villages and where the clouds were thinner and the storm less severe the clouds were colored a sickly gray by the light thrown by Tanit-el. Thunder crashed all about them loud enough to make his teeth rattle.

A great streak of luminescence arced above them, one horizon to another like some celestial bridge, and in the ghostly echo of daylight that accompanied it Neteth saw other figures racing alongside them. Reptilian eyes evaluated him with inhuman intellect and melted back into the darkness.

“Be on guard!” he said. “Raptors!”

If they stayed together and maintained their pace there was a chance the creatures would leave in search of easier prey. But this was a persistent pack and it stayed by them, just beyond range of javelin and arrow. They had encountered armed humans before and, in their own animal way, they knew the score. Neteth hefted the nezak he had taken from the stables. Despite its prodigious length it was expertly balanced, with a long, thin spearhead for driving through armor. Though its intended use had no bearing on the situation, it would allow him to keep the animals that much further away. The staccato motion and man and beast enveloped him.

The raptors moved with a single predatory will. Some ran ahead to cut off their quarry while others moved from the flanks. He heard frantic movement behind himself, shifted his grip and thrust backward, striking one of the animals with the spear's blunt end. Another darted toward him from the right and this one he slashed with the spear's tip, too slow to land a proper blow. It reeled off into the night.

More swirled about him, lit at intervals and the darkness between was alive with the snapping of jaws and echoing thunder. The prince's spear found its mark in a raptor's chest, sinking in until the skin of its back swelled over the point, and as he tried to pull the weapon out another of the creatures leaped at him. Its claws rent his clothes, screeched over his armor, and he kicked it into the dirt. His mount bucked under him and tore at the fallen raptor with its fangs. They had come to a stop, separated from the others and unable to meet the threats greedily approaching from all directions. They snapped at man and mount and raked the latter with long talons. The reins snapped, the gorgonid shook wildly, and he fell from its back in a welter of primal terror. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

The moment imprinted itself indelibly upon him. He was on his back at the center of a ring of ravenous beasts. The heavens above him split with a sound of thunder and he answered with his own cry, wrenching the spear from its bloody and ruined sheath as he rose. Time trickled like amber as he saw two charging and his arms moved without thought to angle the spear into one while turning to deny the other a clear shot at his back. He dealt his target a glancing blow and it twisted away. The second attacker lunged, jaws opening to envelop his head. He held the spear before him and it bit down on the haft. For a moment both tried to use the spear as a lever to throw the other to the ground, the raptor twisting and shaking its head with such violence that Neteth was nearly dragged off his feet. He let go. The spear spun out of reach. He drew the dagger that was his last resort in full knowledge of how badly outmatched he was, for each of the raptors had two sickle-shaped foot claws that easily equaled the blade. Any one of those terrible claws could gut a man in a single blow.

“Come on, then.”

Again they came on in a pair, one to either side. He readied himself to strike at the one on his right, wishing he had a shield to fend off the second. A rope slid into the edge of his vision, uncoiling like a serpent as it flew through the air. It was looped at the end and before the raptor could fall upon him it closed about the creature's neck and yanked it off its feet. It screeched, a high, piercing wail that sent the others into a panic, and then Neteth saw Tex riding through the downpour, rope in one hand and sword in the other, whooping like he was having the time of his life. The raptors fled before him, all but the wretched animal caught in the rope, which he dragged behind him in his pursuit. As he drew off the accumulated fear and exhaustion of the moment welled up and rushed over him all at once like water breaching a dam. He shook, then after some interval the duration of which was unknown to him he picked up the spear, planted its point into the dirt, and stood there breathing heavily.

A dark shape lumbered toward him. He fumbled at the spear, tried and failed to raise it.

Light scoured the plains. He saw Asphodel reaching down to him. He shook his head and summoned enough strength to climb onto the gorgonid's back unaided, seated ahead of her. She protested and he replied that it would be easier to use the spear from the front. She suspected, and he knew, there would be no more trouble from the pack that night, but his tone preempted all disagreement. He took the reins in one hand and for a while focused entirely on the act of riding, hardly noticing when Tex rejoined them.

His own mount was gone and with it all the supplies it had carried. He said nothing until the violence of the storm forced them to take shelter beside a rocky outcropping where they remained the rest of the night, sleeping in shifts beneath curtains of rain thick as waves on the sea. The wind and thunder continued their violent dialogue through the night and only with the gray prelude to dawn did their fury seem to relent. So began their second day on the run.