Huge yellow talons stretched clear over Daigo's broad back, as if he were a newborn kitten in the grip of a hawk. She didn't try to see the rest of the beast. She didn't care. She ran and slashed the talons. Above her head, a deafening shriek rent the air. Again, she didn't look, just slashed again until whatever had Daigo dropped down enough for her to get a better swing.
Her dagger hit bone, but the blade wasn't big enough to do serious damage, and stayed buried in the talon, wrenching it from her hand. Dimly, she heard it clank to the rock as it fell free. The injured talon released its hold on Daigo. The other kept a grip, though, and the beast started climbing as Daigo struggled wildly, his blood flecking Moria's face. She jabbed upward with Orbec's dagger. She saw then what she was hitting. A feathered body. Green feathers. That was all that fit in her field of vision. A green-feathered stomach, two yellow talons, and Daigo.
She jabbed upward, but the beast was too high and her blade too short. As she swung for the other talon instead, the beast lurched suddenly, giving another earsplitting cry. Blood spurted from the beast's gut, and Moria twisted to see Gavril there, his blade thrust deep in the creature. It dropped Daigo. As it did, its talons scraped the back of Moria's head. They caught in her loosely braided hair, and then began shaking her wildly, trapped by her hair. Moria's body flailed, pain cracking through her neck as she frantically reached up to free herself. She did--or the beast got itself free--and she fell to all fours on the lava rock below.
She saw Daigo spitting and snarling. Her fallen blade lay beside him. She grabbed it, clawed her hair from her face, looked up, and saw the very sky darkened by a bird. It had the shape of a hawk, but was covered in bright plumage, shimmering greens and reds and blues that nearly blinded her. She could just barely make out its head, with a long, curving beak and bloodred horns. With each flap of its massive wings, the air cracked like thunder, the force as mighty as a gale.
Thunder hawk.
A creature of legend, sending storms of wind and sand and rain in its path and in its wake, clapping thunder from its wings and shooting lightning from its eyes.
The huge head turned her way. She saw the glowing, yellow eyes, remembered the stories, and started to drop, her head under her arms, but knew it was too late and there was no place to hide from its gaze--
The beast shrieked again. She glanced up and saw it looking straight at her. No lightning bolts, just those yellow eyes.
She bounded up. Gavril was wrestling to pull his blade from the bird's guts, but it wouldn't budge and he was hanging from it. As she ran over to help, the bird's talons headed for his raised arm.
"Drop the sword!" she shouted. "Let it go!"
Perhaps he didn't hear her over the thunder of the bird's wings. But she was sure he did. Yet a warrior never releases his weapon in battle. Apparently, not even to save his life.
The talons wrapped around Gavril's arm as Moria struggled to get to him, fighting against the tremendous wind, loose hair whipping in her eyes. A black blur passed her. Daigo, leaping at the bird as it flapped its wings to ascend. Moria jumped, too. Daigo caught the bird in the side, all his front claws digging in. Moria did the same, using her daggers for claws, ramming one in as she jumped, and the other on the upswing.
The bird screeched. Daigo swung his rear legs up. They found purchase in the bird's belly. As he dug in all four sets of claws, the bird began to flap its wings madly. Moria glanced down to see the earth dropping away beneath them.
She yanked one dagger free and stabbed the bird's breast. It screamed and dropped a little, losing momentum. Daigo pulled back one giant paw and imitated her with a vicious slash. Blood sprayed. The bird shrieked. Anoth
er strike with her dagger. This time, she aimed it into the leg holding Gavril. She pulled it out and plunged it in again. A third time and the talons flexed. The bird didn't release Gavril, but that flex was enough. He fell free, sword still gripped in his hands. She heard him gasp as he hit the rock below.
"Daigo!" she shouted. "Go!"
He understood her just as well as Gavril had. She was sure of it. But he was just as stubborn, turning away as if he hadn't heard, and slashing the bird again. Then Daigo looked over and snarled, fangs flashing. Telling her to drop. When she hesitated, he aimed one of those swipes her way. She scowled but yanked out one dagger, braced herself, and pulled out the other. Then she fell.
Daigo dropped, too. He landed on top of her. Which, she reflected, might have been his plan all along, to soften his own fall. It hadn't been as long a drop as Gavril's, though--Daigo's attack had made the hawk dip low enough. She supposed she owed him thanks for that. But she still booted him off her.
The bird was beating a fast retreat, its wings flapping up uneven spurts of wind that buffeted them as they stood. As they watched the beast ascend into the sky, the thunder and the wind became a mere distant boom and a strong breeze that whipped about their legs.
Moria stood there, heaving breaths, her arms aching. She glanced over to see Daigo twisting to lick at his back. His black fur gleamed wet. Blood. The talons.
She raced over and pushed him down. She carefully moved the fur aside to see his skin. It was dark in color, but lighter than his fur, and she could see a puncture as wide as two fingers and as deep as . . .
She swallowed. She had no idea how deep it was, but when she remembered those talons digging into him, she knew it wasn't a shallow gash. And it wasn't only one wound. There were four on this side and, she was sure, a matching four on the other.
When a shadow passed over them, she jumped, but it was only Gavril.
"He's hurt," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Badly hurt. The talons--"
She remembered then that Daigo hadn't been the only one gripped in those terrible claws.
"Your arm," she said. "Are you--?"
"Only scratched," he said.
She could see long, bloody gashes through the tattoos on his right forearm. She started to rise. "Those aren't scratches--"
"Little more," he said, waving her down. "They're shallow. Are his . . . ?"
"Not shallow," she whispered as she turned back to her wildcat.