growing stronger. He hadn’t felt anything like that
since he’d left Dereka two years earlier. He wondered. Did the feeling have
anything to do with his dreams—or the earlier attack of the dark sanders?
While
he had not had any vivid dreams like the one with the ifrit, he continued to
have fragments of dreams—regular dreams—with the alabaster-skinned men and
women dominating them, and all of them chided him for his failures to
understand their right to dominance and cataloged his own shortcomings.
He
looked across the flock to Wendra, then waved.
She
smiled, and the expression warmed him—but only for a moment, as a sudden wave
of sorrow—and then one of all too familiar purpleness—swept over him.
“Wendra!”
Alucius called out. “Get your rifle, and use darkness on the cartridges.
Something’s coming!”
He
urged the gray toward his wife, hurrying as fast as he could around the spikes
of the quarasote, not wanting to injure his mount, but wanting to get closer to
her.
“Do
you know what it is?”
“Something
else like the dark sanders,” Alucius said as he reined up a yard from Wendra,
where he checked his own rifles. Then he began to infuse the cartridges in each
rifle with the same kind of darkness that had brought down the pteridons so
many years before—and the dark sanders weeks before. He could only hope that it
would work as well this time for whatever might appear. Once he felt that each
bullet was so charged, he began to scan the skies and the quarasote flats for
the evil purpleness that seemed ready to burst forth from somewhere.
“I
can feel something out there,” murmured Wendra.
The
chill darkness that was overlaid with purpleness grew more and more and more
oppressive as they waited—an unseen wall of stone, an avalanche of disaster,
waiting to fall and sweep them away. Yet… what else could they do but wait,
ready to act? They didn’t know from where the attack might come—or if an attack
would even come. Retreating in ignorance before a Talent-foe was worse than
waiting.
“It
feels evil, like an icy purple,” murmured Wendra. “What do you think is coming?”
“I’d
guess something flying, like wild pteridons, but it could be sandoxes—or
something we’ve never seen.”
With
a sudden snap , the silver-green of the very sky
itself flexed—and somehow opened—and flying blue shapes appeared less than
fifty yards to the northeast of the pair. The ten-odd creatures circling in the
air were purplish pteridons, smaller than those once used by the nomads and
without riders. The metallic blue talons that extended from their forelegs
glinted, knife-sharp.
“Start
firing, now!” Alucius lifted his heavy rifle and put his first shot through the
chest of the lead pteridon. The Talent-predator fluttered once, then
cartwheeled out of the sky.
Wendra’s
rifle cracked , once, twice, a third time, before a
pteridon spun downward into a quarasote bush. Both bush and pteridon burst into
flame.
The
others began to form into a loose wedge that rose, as if preparatory to diving
at the pair of herders. Alucius fired two more shots. The first missed
entirely. The second caught the edge of another pteridon, which seemed to shake
off the impact.
One
of the pteridons ignored the formation and dived at one of the lead nightrams.
The ram lifted his head, trying to twist his glittering horns to catch the
predator. Both creatures exploded in bluish flame.
Alucius
got off two more shots, one of which struck a pteridon, then switched rifles. “As
soon as you can,” he called to Wendra, “reload!”
The
pteridons circled higher, and as he fired twice more, bringing down yet another
pteridon, Alucius realized something else. The Talent-creatures had not been
specifically hunting them. They’d been startled and surprised, and that might
have been what was giving Wendra and him an edge. Still, they were dangerous
creatures.
Another
of the pteridons swept toward Wendra, Alucius snapped
since he’d left Dereka two years earlier. He wondered. Did the feeling have
anything to do with his dreams—or the earlier attack of the dark sanders?
While
he had not had any vivid dreams like the one with the ifrit, he continued to
have fragments of dreams—regular dreams—with the alabaster-skinned men and
women dominating them, and all of them chided him for his failures to
understand their right to dominance and cataloged his own shortcomings.
He
looked across the flock to Wendra, then waved.
She
smiled, and the expression warmed him—but only for a moment, as a sudden wave
of sorrow—and then one of all too familiar purpleness—swept over him.
“Wendra!”
Alucius called out. “Get your rifle, and use darkness on the cartridges.
Something’s coming!”
He
urged the gray toward his wife, hurrying as fast as he could around the spikes
of the quarasote, not wanting to injure his mount, but wanting to get closer to
her.
“Do
you know what it is?”
“Something
else like the dark sanders,” Alucius said as he reined up a yard from Wendra,
where he checked his own rifles. Then he began to infuse the cartridges in each
rifle with the same kind of darkness that had brought down the pteridons so
many years before—and the dark sanders weeks before. He could only hope that it
would work as well this time for whatever might appear. Once he felt that each
bullet was so charged, he began to scan the skies and the quarasote flats for
the evil purpleness that seemed ready to burst forth from somewhere.
“I
can feel something out there,” murmured Wendra.
The
chill darkness that was overlaid with purpleness grew more and more and more
oppressive as they waited—an unseen wall of stone, an avalanche of disaster,
waiting to fall and sweep them away. Yet… what else could they do but wait,
ready to act? They didn’t know from where the attack might come—or if an attack
would even come. Retreating in ignorance before a Talent-foe was worse than
waiting.
“It
feels evil, like an icy purple,” murmured Wendra. “What do you think is coming?”
“I’d
guess something flying, like wild pteridons, but it could be sandoxes—or
something we’ve never seen.”
With
a sudden snap , the silver-green of the very sky
itself flexed—and somehow opened—and flying blue shapes appeared less than
fifty yards to the northeast of the pair. The ten-odd creatures circling in the
air were purplish pteridons, smaller than those once used by the nomads and
without riders. The metallic blue talons that extended from their forelegs
glinted, knife-sharp.
“Start
firing, now!” Alucius lifted his heavy rifle and put his first shot through the
chest of the lead pteridon. The Talent-predator fluttered once, then
cartwheeled out of the sky.
Wendra’s
rifle cracked , once, twice, a third time, before a
pteridon spun downward into a quarasote bush. Both bush and pteridon burst into
flame.
The
others began to form into a loose wedge that rose, as if preparatory to diving
at the pair of herders. Alucius fired two more shots. The first missed
entirely. The second caught the edge of another pteridon, which seemed to shake
off the impact.
One
of the pteridons ignored the formation and dived at one of the lead nightrams.
The ram lifted his head, trying to twist his glittering horns to catch the
predator. Both creatures exploded in bluish flame.
Alucius
got off two more shots, one of which struck a pteridon, then switched rifles. “As
soon as you can,” he called to Wendra, “reload!”
The
pteridons circled higher, and as he fired twice more, bringing down yet another
pteridon, Alucius realized something else. The Talent-creatures had not been
specifically hunting them. They’d been startled and surprised, and that might
have been what was giving Wendra and him an edge. Still, they were dangerous
creatures.
Another
of the pteridons swept toward Wendra, Alucius snapped
Similar Books
