Read Saint Elm's Deep (The Legend of Vanx Malic) for Free Online

The haulkattens had to be fed and rested twice during each hauling day. The big cats lived on ground fish and oats. It was a dry, powdery stuff called fishmeal, and they burned it off quickly out here working in the cold. Nearly half of all the supplies they were carrying were forty-pound sacks of the stuff.
    No one thought to be alarmed when Xavian raised his head high and called for a halt. They all figured they were stopping for the morning break. Darbon, though, figured it had to be more than that.
    “Something is wrong,” he said to Vanx, throwing off his blanket and grabbing the long bow and quiver he had stashed there.
    “He’s calling the break,” Vanx said.
    “No. The wizard doesn’t have a clue about the cat’s needs.” Darbon slipped the bow string in place and nocked an arrow.
    Just as Vanx realized that Darbon was right, both Xavian and Chelda yelled out over each other.
    “I feel something ill,” called the wizard.
    “Frost-wings!” Chelda yelled loud enough to mostly drown him out. “Three of them from the southeast.”
    A mad scramble ensued, and if it weren’t for the cool and unruffled experience of the twin Skmoes, Skog, and Endell, the haulkattens would have bolted and scattered their supplies.
    Inda, or maybe Anda—it was hard to say which—bolted to Vanx and Darbon’s cat; his brother went to the Parydonian’s. One of them grabbed the reins of their employer’s beast in hand, while Skog kept control of the one he was riding.
    Poops caught the anxiety of his friends and began barking excitedly. Vanx and Darbon were both looking frantically for the approaching predator birds. Neither of them could figure out which direction was southeast, because the sun was almost directly overhead, and there were no real landmarks.
    Finally, Vanx found them and pointed.
    Following his finger, Darbon spotted them.
    “Get the sleds closer together,” Brody ordered in a clear, yet clipped fashion. “Archers, form a circle around them.” Then a little quieter, he said, “Smythe, get my bow for me, and be certain to bring the shafts we sharpened first.”
    It all went smoothly, the forming up of the sleds and the defensive ring around them. Even Xavian was fully prepared to defend the group from the big, white-blue feathered birds. He had taken a protected station amid the sleds, but he kept his eyes intently on the beasts. He went through some strange motions and didn’t hesitate to crawl up to the top of the pile of supplies as the winged feeders grew closer.
    Skog quickly assembled a long, three-section pike that threaded end into end somehow. It was tipped with a blade shaped like a man’s foot but made of shiny, well-sharpened steel. The shaft was twice as long as Chelda was tall—almost three times as tall as Skog. The Skmoes produced small but powerful-looking bows, but were busy keeping all four of the haulkattens as still as possible.
    The frost-wings circled high over them, then one dove down and made a lower pass. When it was close, Xavian loosed his blast, possibly a bit too early, but the comet-like streak of crackling crimson energy scared the creatures badly enough that they bolted away toward the ridge with uncanny speed. After a few moments, they were nothing but specks in the sky.
    “Glad that’s over,” Smythe breathed out heavily.
    “I’d agree with you, if they hadn’t just flown to where we are headed,” Endell pointed out the grim truth of it.

Gather in and gather close,
don’t misunderstand.
In the end we’ll wage a war
to keep our sacred land.
-- Balladamned (a Zythian song)

The place they chose for base camp was partially blocked from the brutal wind by its natural shape. Calling it a cavern would be a stretch, Darbon decided. It was more of a depression pushed into the side of a rock face that was on the side of a ridge jutting out directly into the wind. Its greatest feature was that the wind blew past its opening, not directly at it. There was also a bit of an