Sanctuary

She had no idea how Eagle Eye could be here, when she’d left him in Khurinost, but the griffon’s call was unmistakable. Standing in her stirrups, she whistled shrilly. To her delight, Eagle Eye answered, sounding closer now.

When the warbling screech came a second time, the sand beast bolted. Strong as it was, the urge to hunt elves could not overcome the primal fear inspired by the sound of a natural enemy. Descending the hill in one great bound, the sand beast lowered its head, struck the Opposite hillside, and immediately began burrowing. It tore through slabs of slate as easily as a child digs in sand. Before the shadow of the griffon crossed the hill where the sand beast had been, it was completely buried, lying still as the rock around it.

The Lioness stopped, and her warriors followed suit. They could now see the griffon’s black shape moving in the sky. Kerian cupped her hands around her mouth and whistled again.

The griffon descended rapidly, flaring his wings and hovering over the elves. None of them could enjoy the sight; all were too busy trying to control their plunging horses. Kerian solved this dilemma for herself by vaulting from the saddle. Rising to her feet, she held up a hand to the griffon and called his name. Eagle Eye, utterly ignoring the chaos around him, landed next to her and lowered his hooked beak, tucking it under her arm like a pet songbird.

“You old monster,” she said fondly. “I’m glad to see you, too. Your timing is excellent!”

A shout interrupted the reunion. Favaronas, engaged in a losing battle with his terrified horse, yelled, “The nomads are getting close!”

Two hundred yards away, the main body of nomads was in plain view. Their advance from the south had been halted temporarily as they, too, had to cope with frightened mounts. From the east, a second force of nomads was likewise delayed. Kerian estimated some four hundred Khurs remained.

“Form up! Form up!” she called, even as she leapt onto the griffon’s back. She was airborne in the next heartbeat, Eagle Eye’s muscular hindquarters sending them into the air with a breath-snatching rush. Kerian turned his head toward the larger (and closer) southern nomad band, shouting at her elves, “Into the valley—at a gallop! There’s no time to waste!”

Her warriors sorted themselves into riding formation. Reins snapped and spurs dug in. They surged northward. On their right, the second party of Khurs was angling to cut them off. With the Lioness forced to concentrate first on the southern nomads, the eastern band was beginning to regain control of their horses.

Eagle Eye flew so low over the nomad horsemen that Kerian could have kicked their hats with her boot. Instead, she crouched low over her mount’s neck. It wouldn’t do to pick up an arrow from a sharp-eyed nomad archer. The griffon’s screeching cries sent the horses into a frenzy. Their riders seemed scarcely more composed. Tribesmen in Eagle Eye’s path flung themselves off their mounts.

Eagle Eye banked, flapped hard for altitude, and soared back over the hectic scene. Kerian aimed to rejoin her fleeing command. Her bird’s-eye perspective showed a dire situation.

The flanking nomads, riding hard from the east, had succeeded in getting in front of her elves. She growled in frustration; the trap she feared had caught them. Nomads were ahead and, however disordered, also behind them. Their only hope of survival was the Inath-Wakenti, where they would have room to maneuver—and hide.

She reached her diminished band and hovered high above them. “Draw swords, all!” she cried. Three hundred-odd blades rose in unison. “Forward! Don’t falter! If the humans get in your way, cut them down, but don’t stop to fight. Go!”

Boot to boot, the wedge of elves hit the nomads head-on. The elves, highly trained veterans on taller, heavier horses, pushed through the loose nomad formation, trading sword cuts as they went Bilath tried to hold his men as Adala had instructed, but the elves would not be denied. Bilath himself received a slash on the temple. A second cut might have finished him, but the elf warrior tore by without pause.

On the southern front, the Weya-Lu led by Bindas were coming up fast. Their desert ponies were a hardy lot, and the animals’ fear had faded as they grew accustomed to the griffon’s strange scent. Adala’s stolid donkey had never given in to the terror. On beholding the griffon, Adala proclaimed the strange flying beast a sign. Monsters from the Abyss had been raised against them, she told her rapt followers. The wicked laddad thought to cow them, but Torghan the Avenger would strengthen Weya-Lu sword-arms and steel their hearts. The Weya-Lu shouted, “Adala maita!” Then they thundered forward at a gallop.

Riding near the Weyadan, Wapah stared uncertainly at the griffon. He recognized it as a creature associated with the Silvanesti and didn’t quite understand how it could be both a sign from Those on High and a monster raised by the laddad for use against the people of the desert.