The Prince's Angel

Chapter Seven - A Flight to Remember

"Well, well, the little royals are awake!" Rat-face snapped. He whirled on Alemeth. "Get a move on! We don't have time to sit around eating your stinking stew! Grab the girl, and then you fulfill your end of the bargain."

Alemeth didn't like being ordered about by Rat-face; Stefan knew from the sour look on the foreigner's face that he'd like to squish the midget into a pancake.

He retreated into the cave, rattling pans and making such a loud noise packing up that Stefan wondered how the whole of Semora couldn't hear them. Rat-face marched around impatiently, barking orders at his cronies. "Pack that up!No, we don't need that awful stew, throw it out!"

When at last the cave was empty, Alemeth ducked into the thick trees beyond the cave and came back out with Atara, bound and gagged. Torin gasped.

Stefan bristled, clenching his fists. How dare they touch Atara! She didn't deserve this, after all she'd done for him and Torin. But he noticed that Alemeth didn't shove Atara, or handle her roughly. He let her walk over to the boys, with hardly a glare or a gruff word, as Stefan expected.

The three captives huddled in a clump, wary and watchful. Stefan struggled with the strip of cloth knotted around Atara's head. It finally came free, and Atara inhaled a long breath through her mouth. "Horrid," she managed with a grimace. "Tasted and smelled like a rancid compost pile."

She glanced sympathetically at the boys, taking in the sight of ropes around their wrists, their bloodied knees, and skinned arms. Torin couldn't seem to look Atara in the eye. Stefan watched him swallow several times in succession.

"On your feet!" They were jerked up by Rat-face's thugs and shoved farther into the forest. Moving at a pace so fast made for uneven balance, and Stefan lost his footing several times. At one point, Torin fell flat on his face, and when he was grabbed by one of the ruffians, his nose gushed blood. There was nothing he could do but walk on.

Alemeth followed at a distance, keeping a stern eye on the prisoners and Rat-face. To Stefan's bafflement, the only thing he carried was his axe. Where did all his pots and pans go? Surely he wouldn't have left them all in the cave.

Hours ticked by. Miles reached behind them. The long stretch of dense forest gave way to sparse trees and underbrush that scratched Stefan's ankles. He'd never been this far south of Semora. They followed a steep incline upward, the sky showing a dusky blue through the trees, and...

The men in front of them stopped short. When Stefan halted, he understood why.

They stood at the edge of a precipice, some one hundred feet over the Beryl Sea. A harsh wind whipped at their clothes and hair. Stefan's stomach churned. He could just barely see the white water foaming around the jagged rocks at the bottom. They weren't going to throw him and Torin and Atara over the cliff... were they?

"Where is it? You said it would be here!" Rat-face snapped at Alemeth, who had planted himself behind Atara.

"They will be."

A screech tore the air, and a flurry of wings erupted over the edge. The criminals scattered back in fright, tripping over each other. The massive thing was coming to rest on the brink of the cliff.

"What is that?" Stefan whispered in awe.

"It's a cryovon." Atara was just as much dumbstruck as he was. Her eyes filled with wonder. Alemeth glanced down at her, perhaps surprised she knew what the creature was called. The animal was now preening itself, seemingly unaware of the people surrounding it. Its tawny body and head resembled a lion, with huge paws and a long tail, but the tips of its ears were pointed, and enormous golden wings jutted from its sides, folded elegantly. Stefan wanted to reach out and touch it, but knew he would likely be rewarded with a snap from those huge jaws. White fangs like knives curved over the giant cat's muzzle.