“May spiders nest in your scrolls,” Quarhaun growled at him in Common. He turned to Turbull. “You have more bait for your trap,” he said sourly. Turbull nodded. Shara gave the drow a smile and took his hand. Quarhaun turned his scowl on her, but Albanon saw his fingers grip tight around hers.
Then Uldane stepped forward. “There are three stakes,” he said. “I’ll go out with Albanon and Quarhaun.”
All of them looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have to do that,” said Turbull. “One of my warriors can go.”
“Bundle me up in a cloak and I can pass for an elf more easily than a shifter can,” Uldane insisted. “Besides, if Quarhaun is willing to do it, I should, too.” He looked at Shara and Quarhaun. “I still feel like I owe you after driving you away.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Shara said. “You’ve already apologized.”
“Then let’s say I feel like I owe myself.” He picked up the light pack he had carried from the Tigerclaw camp and pulled his cloak out of it. “The sun’s coming up. What are we waiting for?”
It didn’t take long to draw the perytons’ attention.
As soon as Albanon, Quarhaun, and Uldane were settled on the ground as if asleep-cloaks covering each of them and hiding the ropes that bound one leg to the stakes-one of the Tigerclaws started the fire, then sprinted for cover. Green wood laid over the tinder sent a thin but solid thread of smoke up into the morning air, a convincing imitation of a night’s fire dying out. Stretched out beneath the trees and bushes with Turbull to one side of her and Tempest to the other, Shara watched the bare rock of the mountain face intently. The rising sun made the shadows of the ledges darker, but she thought she could make out movement.
The first of the perytons took to the air and rose into the dawn light. She caught her breath. Even at a distance, the creatures looked to be the size of horses and in spite of their ungainly antlered heads, they flew like hawks. And they were fast. One moment there was one peryton beating blue-black wings as it flapped skyward. The next there were eight, all of them climbing to circle high above the valley. Shara imagined she could hear the beating of their powerful wings.
She glanced away, back to the three figures on the knoll. Two of her best friends and her lover lay vulnerable. Tempest patted her arm. “I know,” she said. “But they’ll be fine.” Shara nodded, wishing she could be as certain as the tiefling.
Turbull growled softly. “Look at them,” he said, his eyes on the perytons. “They’re magnificent.”
“I thought you wanted them dead.”
“I can still appreciate them.” Raising his hand just a little, he pointed. “See the biggest of them? The female with five-point antlers flying higher than the others? That’s the eldest of the flock-you can tell she’s female from the brown chest feathers. She’ll be the one to assess the situation and decide when-or if-to attack.”
Shara followed his gesture. She had to take the shifter’s word on the color of the big peryton-other than flashes of dark green or blue feathers in the sunlight, the monsters were too far away for her eyes to pick out details-but it certainly seemed as if the creature was studying the situation below. “How long will she wait?” she asked.
“If you suspected an ambush, how long would you wait?” He settled himself more comfortably against the ground. Out on the knoll, Albanon shifted his fingers to let a scrap of red cloth flutter out, a signal that he and the others had seen the circling perytons. She settled herself down as well, but kept her eyes on the high-flying monsters.
When the perytons descended, they came down fast. All of them dropped together in silent grace, but about half-the big elder among them-broke away to remain airborne just above the treetops. The others landed almost softly just beyond the false campsite.
“Down!” murmured Turbull and both Shara and Tempest pressed themselves against the ground. The Tigerclaws had provided them and the others with cloaks stitched from a multitude of variously hued brown patches for camouflage. Shara pulled hers tight around her face, leaving just the smallest opening to peep out of.
For long moments, the perytons on the ground stayed where they had landed. Red eyes slid over their potential prey-she didn’t know how Quarhaun, Albanon, and Uldane managed to keep up the pretense of sleeping- and around the clearing. The monsters moved strangely. Shara had expected them to make quick, darting movements like curious crows or perhaps to throw their antlered heads like wary stags. Instead, they hunkered down like wolves picking out the weak members of a herd. They held their wings partly spread with their powerful legs tensed, ready to propel them into flight. They thrust their heads and necks forward eagerly, and Shara saw something she hadn’t noticed from a distance: sharp teeth, made for tearing flesh, flashed in the perytons’ staglike muzzles. Her fingers curled and bunched the fabric of the camouflage cloak.
One of them took a slow, ungainly step toward the sleepers.
“Now?” Shara breathed to Turbull. None of the Tigerclaws would attack until he gave the signal.
“We want the elder,” he murmured back.
Shara braced herself against the thunder of her heart.
Pace by slow, stalking pace, the perytons moved closer to Quarhaun and the others. They paused frequently, checking the trees as if expecting an ambush. A human might have been more suspicious that their prey was still asleep, but the perytons just looked hungry. Glistening threads of saliva dripped from the jaws of the one in the lead. Less than ten paces from the sleepers, it paused and looked up at its kin circling overhead.
The elder flapped her wings twice and soared a little higher. Shara’s heart skipped. She was leaving. They were losing their chance!
Turbull must have sensed her tension. “Hold!” he said softly. “She’s getting ready to dive.”
Shara’s heart skipped a second time. “Dive? Shouldn’t we attack?”
“Wait for her to commit to it. The others will follow her lead.”
And Shara had thought waiting as a captive in the Tigerclaw camp had been hard. It was all she could do not to spring out as the big peryton spiraled up against the sky. She could hear Tempest whispering next to her- probably not a prayer from the warlock, but very possibly an invocation.
In an instant the elder turned and plummeted toward the ground. The dive was silent. No calls, no wild screeches, just a sudden, sharp descent. The other airborne perytons rose as the elder came down. Shara would have leaped to her feet right then, but Turbull seized her wrist under her cloak. “Hold!” he commanded as instinct checked her movement.
Fortunately the trio out on the knoll didn’t hold back. The false campsite exploded in a whirl of action as Albanon and Quarhaun threw aside their cloaks and jumped up. With a scream of fury, Quarhaun hurled a blast of crackling black energy at the diving beast, while Albanon thrust up his staff and sent a spray of fire toward the perytons on the ground.
The elder screeched as she twisted aside. Quarhaun’s blast missed her by less than a swordslength. The grounded perytons likewise threw themselves away from Albanon’s fire. He only managed to catch one, the edge of its wing trailing through the flame. Feathers singed and smoking, the monster whirled up into the air with an angry scream.
Even if they were startled by the counterattack, none of the perytons fled. They spun around Quarhaun, Uldane, and Albanon in an angry, bloodthirsty storm, forcing them apart with darting feints and buffeting wings. The ropes and stakes that were intended to keep them safe hampered them as they tried to dodge. Quarhaun loosed another blast without hitting anything. The peryton he had been aiming at turned in the air and plunged for him-
Turbull’s grasp vanished and he rose with a shout. “ We are the predators! ”
Around the clearing, the Tigerclaws came to their feet with answering shouts, but Shara was on her feet and charging across the knoll before Turbull had even finished shaping his words. Her greatsword flashed as she raised it. “Down!” she screamed.
Quarhaun saw her actions-and dropped. The diving peryton passed over him, its claws snatching nothing but air. The monster dipped awkwardly, then it saw Shara, too. She felt the blast of its wings as it tried to straighten its flight and regain its speed and height.
Shara didn’t let it. She roared and twisted her body around between one running stride and the next. Her sword caught the wing of the peryton and sheared through it.
The momentum of the creature spun it around. Shara had to roll to avoid being caught under its bulk as it plowed into the ground, but she came up running. Quarhaun was grinning when she reached him. “Beautiful and
