The Deepcombers

Chapter Twelve

"What a hideous thing." the clerk remarked as he pulled himself up over the edge. He got all the way up, but then rocked back onto his knees and tried to see under the beast. "It may have eggs. If so... It won't leave its nest."

"No. It leaves," Lon said.

Clyde still rested on his haunches when the bird flapped its wings and made another stiff breeze. Cawl. Cawl. It cried out as if to summon help.

The sudden gust caught the clumsy clerk off balance and he wobbled backwards. Lon lurched and grabbed him, but he wasn't the only one; a green arm telescoped-up from behind. The scribe thanked them both and then shrunk flat on the shelf.

Tharus waited below and he likely wanted to join them but there was no room on the ledge.

Screech! The roc sent more chaff at the climbers who covered their heads in their hands. The old girl possessed an unending source of detritus in her surroundings. She could make more crud by crunching sticks under her feet and she flung pebbles by feather-dusting the stone piles with her wings.

Lon snatched up a crooked tree branch about four feet long that bounced across the rocks.

The angry flyer flapped even harder and her sweepers broke the stone cairn. The bottom side crumbled and shale tumbled across the shelf. The cone was hollow and one side collapsed in a cascade of rubble and dust.

"Ho what joy," Jarl said. "She's a fierce woman this one."

"What's the plan?" Lon asked the veteran.

"I bite her throat," the big cat replied.

The sea drover realized he had a better plan. While these two distracted the bird he reckoned he could out-flank it. He'd scale what remained of the stone cairn ahead and jump and brain the buzzard with this stick. Such a daredevil feat would require precise leap-of-faith. All this would occur less than a dozen paces from a very steep drop, but it was the best idea he had. "I see a chance."

Lon shimmed farther down the shelf to enact his plan. He wormed his way left to straighten his path up the ramp. He rolled close to the raging waterfall and didn't look back to see the others' reactions.

Jarl and Clyde watched him go and his independent action inspired them to be brave. The big cat continued to prowl forward and Clyde moved into Lon's spot. Tharus slithered-up over the ledge and into the empty slot behind them. Squaawk! The roc flapped her wings and rushed the cliff-side combatants. It descended on Jarl, the closest assailant, talons first. Her huge claws grabbed him the same way an eagle snatches a mouse. Jarl screamed. "Arrrggghhh."

Lon froze. Now was the moment. He knew exactly what he had to do. He'd practiced this maneuver his whole life. This was the one-bounce-mount which is how all respectable northern riders mount their horses. Northern equestrians had minimal saddles; they simply ran and jumped on their animals' backs. But of course, this attack would not be as easy as that. This feat required a precise leap and then a hefty strike. He'd use the ramp to gain extra height.  Was this intelligent? He was set to try and mount a winged beast that didn't want a rider. He let another heartbeat pass...

The lion from Lambspetal roared in pain again as the bird's claws dug into his thick blond hide. The roc flapped its wings and lifted him clear off the ground. It would have flung him over the side, but Clyde bravely reached out and grabbed its other leg.

The noble's eyes were fixed on the snapping black talons that scissored near his groin. He must have been terrified yet he clung-on to save Jarl. He used his weight to hold down the beast. "Lonny!!" He cried for help as the bird contorted to try and peck his neck and shoulder.