65. Bird of Prey
~ YILAN ~
I watched Melek walk back towards that boiling camp with my heart in my throat. Jann followed in his wake with a muttered warning for us to stay out of sight of the Neph until we were walking the shadows.
When they disappeared around the outcropping, Diadre grabbed my hand. “That was…” she whispered.
I nodded. “He’s magnificent.”
Watching him throw those spears down had twisted my insides. I’d been relieved the first time he told me that challenges for dominance among the Nephilim were fought without weapons—until he reminded me that, weapons or not, every challenge for the throne was a challenge to the death.
“He’s going to do this, Yilan,” Diadre said, squeezing my hand.
“I know.”
And I would make sure nothing stood in his way.
A roar went up that let us know Melek was visible to the crowd again.
Diadre and I both startled, but then we trotted around to the other side of the outcropping.
Jann had told us that there was a shadowy hole among the rocks here that would be large enough for us to slip inside and watch without being easily visible to those below.
We had to stay out of sight so the Neph didn’t figure out that we were free.
As we crept among the rocks, I had trouble keeping my thoughts still .
Melek was going out there to fight. Two different men—plus Hever of all people? What the fuck was that about?
That man had always made my blood run cold. He looked different than the others. I thought it was just because he was old. Did he think he’d be able to beat Melek in a direct challenge? I had a hunch that it wasn’t a physical fight that he wanted, and that made my lungs chill.
“I don’t know what that old witch is up to, but I’m going to find out,” I vowed to Diadre.
“So that was Hever?”
I nodded. “I don’t know what he was doing, but I’m sure it wasn’t good.”
“He’s creepy.”
I agreed emphatically. In truth, he was a lot more than creepy, but there wasn’t time to explain to Diadre. I wish Jann could have stayed, I wanted to understand what that seal shit was about.
But the shouts and jeers were getting louder, which meant Melek was probably already fighting. I needed to get out there and watch, and look for my opportunity to walk the shadows and help him.
“Come on, let’s go,” I murmured to her.
As we crept around the rocks and looked for the space that Jann had mentioned, the shadows were lengthening. The sun had reached the mountains behind us and was sinking quickly. Soon there would be enough darkness to shroud shadow walkers, even in this crowd.
But the moment I reached that space between the rocks and could look out over the crowd, I froze.
I found Melek immediately, standing in a wide circle that had been cleared, men pushing others back, and all those at the front had opened their wings wide, forming a barrier for anyone behind them.
Within that space, Melek stood, chin high and hands clenched at his sides, standing with his feet shoulder width apart, glaring across the space to the other man… who looked just as big, and perhaps even broader.
Melek was the largest Nephilim I’d ever seen. The few I’d seen who were taller were much lighter in their builds. So seeing this man who appeared to compete with him in size put my heart back in my throat.
The two walked a slow circle, watching each other as they moved, both of them looking for an opening to make an attack—or defend .
Then Melek raised his hand and pointed at the other male. I couldn’t catch what he said—there was a roar of laughter and protests from those nearby. But whatever it was, the other male roared and threw himself at Melek.
To my shock, both men launched into the air towards each other, and the resulting collision rumbled like thunder in a storm.
Then they moved so fast, they blurred.
~ MELEK (seconds earlier) ~
Lern prowled within the circle of our brothers’ wings, smiling.
But his eyes were flames of hate. I kept my shoulders low and hands loose at my sides, giving him no indication of the tension tying knots between my shoulder blades.
Lern was of a size with me, and a strong fighter.
But he’d never developed the self-discipline needed for true success. His emotions ruled his mind.
I would take him. But I’d make him come to me to do it. He’d challenged me . I wouldn’t legitimize his claim by being the first to strike.
“Melek fucking Handras,” the male growled, not even giving me the respect of my rank. “Too cowardly to admit you killed the King, too scared to stand in judgment for it, now flying back after half the contenders have been defeated to try and pick up the spoils?”
I smiled, but didn’t break his fiery gaze.
“Our enemies attempted to shackle me. They learned—as you will—that I am not so easily defeated. Imagine my surprise, though, to return and learn two of my officers stood for the crown, yet were too gutless to face each other? I will set both of you in the dirt.”
Lern sneered. “Always so full of words.”
“Do my big words confuse you? I’ll speak slower.”
A wave of chortles rippled through the nearby Neph, some slapping their friends’ chests, others widening eyes and waiting to see how Lern would respond.
The male stared murder at me, still pacing. “Fetch-fucker,” he seethed .
“Did your father want a pig for your mother, or was her ass just so round he couldn’t tell the diff—”
Lern roared and launched for me, his wings snapping wide then back to push him into the air and over me—an advantage, if he could hold the position.
But I’d been anticipating the first strike and waited to be certain of his trajectory.
The moment we were both in flight, every move and counter-move would require adjustment, and those split-second shifts of a wing could be the difference between life and death.
When he came for me, roaring and arms outstretched, hands clawed for my eyes—because a blinded foe was useless in the air—it was an attempt to push me off my center of gravity. He sought to force me into a back-flap-and-turn which would give him the higher position in the air.
No chance.
As he flowed into the air over my head, I smiled and shot straight up, the heel of one hand braced and aimed straight for his chin, allowing myself into that dangerous circle of his arms—but only as long as it took to slam his lower jaw closed so hard his teeth cracked, his head snapped back, shifting his balance, and he grunted.
His eyes squeezed tight against the pain as our bodies collided and the clash cracked like thunder in the sky. But I’d already shaken his senses with that spine-shuddering blow, and he was forced to turn away and give ground—or rather, air.
A cheer went up from the crowd as I kept my wings still until gravity took me in its hands again, then I flapped as lazily as I could to hold my position.
Lern shook his head as he circled once, growling. Then with one glance at our audience below, he closed his wings and dove.
Combat in flight was ninety percent instinct, and ten percent experience.
Surrendering to my God-given instincts, I let myself tip back, wings flat to the ground, drawing my knees towards my chest as he came for me, turning my entire body at the last possible second to kick him in the chest—a move that required a full-body somersault in the air—and divert his path to my right.
He snarled and grabbed for my foot, but I was already twisting again, flapping, coming back to upright, wings extended to catch the air. His clawed hands caught on nothing but empty air and the force of his attack kept him turning in sync with me, until our positions reversed.
He was no fool, and no weakling. He adjusted quickly, wings snapping open, then half-closed until he’d stayed the turn, but now I was the one diving from above.
I folded my wings and dropped. He expected me to go for his eyes, anticipated it and flapped once to shift his position at the final second—but this wasn’t my first challenge, either.
As he ducked his head to protect his eyes and fanned his wings, preparing to turn and evade me, I snapped my hand back towards my shoulder, rejecting the expected attempt for his eyes, and instead driving down on him with my elbow.
He’d turned his head slightly to protect his eyes, so missed my change in attack—a half-second later I dropped like a stone, my elbow glancing off his head, but slamming into his shoulder.
I felt something give before I’d slipped below him in the air and was forced to flip and turn myself, flapping to regain height, rising to his left and pushing away to get space.
I needed to see what kind of damage I’d done.
When we were twenty feet apart, I turned and let my feet drop, flapping only enough to keep myself hovering, to watch and assess… and then smile.
He was trying not to show it, but the tilted and slightly lowered arm gave him away.
I’d cracked his collarbone, which meant flying was fucking painful.
This was going to be easy.
With a short, prayer, I roared, then flew straight for him, darting and flitting, fanning wings and clawed hands—both of us gripping, tearing, taking any attempt to weaken each other in flight, or hook a thumb into vulnerable eyes.
As night descended on the valley, everything disappeared but my foe. Even the noise of the crowd below us, our brothers cheering and growling, faded away, until the only things that registered were my pounding heart, and the grunts and cries of my adversary.
I stopped thinking. My wings turned and flipped and flapped without instruction. My limbs tucked in for defense, or extended for attack without prior thought.
Again and again we met mid-air, bodies clashing, fists thrown, fingers clawed, teeth bared. I had him bleeding in six places and one of his eyes swollen almost closed from a blow when he got desperate and on the next clash, missed my eye, but managed to get his nails into my scalp.
With a hiss of pain, I closed my wings and let myself drop, but snapped them wide again two seconds later to glide into position on his right—just as he turned, seething to find me.
“You disappear from the battlefield in the company of our enemy, then return well-fed and rested—traitor!” the male spat, then licked the blood from his teeth. “If I fall because you thrive on enemy spoils, may God Himself strike you down!”
Those below us still supporting him, roared their approval, while the rest howled their protests.
“Are those excuses, Lern?” I called, keeping my tone as bored and dry as possible, but making sure my flaps brought me steadily closer to him, though still out of reach. “I conquered an entire fucking continent. What have you done to prove your worth as King?”
His golden eyes narrowed and the murderous rage in his gaze might have chilled me, but I could see his body swaying in flight, and he was holding that injured arm tucked against his body from shoulder to elbow.
I just needed to get a good grip on him.
“I stayed when you left,” he spat back.
“Tried to claim my spoils for your own, you mean,” I corrected him.
Then the fucker smiled. “Oh, no. That’s what I’ll do after I defeat you. I’ll take that juicy piece of Fetch and plant a baby in her belly while all our brothers watch!”
The roar from the watching crowd finally penetrated my focus, and I ground my teeth as they cheered him for that.
Perverted fucks.
“Don’t be so sure, Lern,” I called as quietly as I could and still be heard by the men. “She’s a true Queen. That means her cunt has teeth. No point taking the crown if you lose your cock in the—”
The watching men roared their laughter and Lern reflexively glanced at them.
That split-second of his distraction was all I needed.
Abandoning the insult, I shot straight for him, flipping and turning, darting, weaving, wings flared and tucked, then flared again, twisting in the air as I sought the mortal grip—either to get my thumbs in his eyes, or to hold him under me and drive him into the earth.
But the fucker was strong—and now desperate. Fighting for his life.
Again and again we turned, dropping towards the earth as we grappled, flapping and twisting in mid-air to correct, but dragged by each other’s weight.
Snarling and snapping like feral dogs, we turned over and over, until finally I had no choice but to offer him a clear shot at my eyes—I had to tempt him to open up for attack so I could reach him.
There was a split second where I hooked a foot behind his knee to keep him close and lowered my arms from defending my face as if I was tired and considering my next move.
He saw his chance, and crowed, both hands shooting straight for my face.
Hands flattened in front of me as if I was praying, I whipped both arms straight up, inside his reaching arms, between his clawed hands and pushed his forearms wide before he could get his nails into my skin—but it wasn’t just a defensive maneuver.
As he swore and eased off, intending to fall back and away, I whipped my hands over and around his arms, gripping his weapon straps and locking us together before he could drop away.
But that left me no way to reach his eyes.
So, hooking both heels behind his thighs, I forced him back as I tucked my wings.
He screamed as our combined weight folded his frantic wings and we plummeted to earth.
Pushing him away so my arms were braced, no longer needing my feet to keep him pointed down, I snarled in his face as I drove him towards the dirt.
“ Never speak of my Queen that way!” I snarled.
I wasn’t even sure he heard me. He’d stopped fighting, and only grappled, trying with weakened arms to break my grip on him, but it was too late.
A half-second before we hit the dirt, I let him go and snapped my wings wide, back-flapping furiously to catch myself before I suffered the same fate—as my adversary was driven into the ground like a post.
The boom from his impact echoed in the mountain air and dust rose like a tree had been felled .
I felt the scrape of the earth on my toes before I caught my weight and pulled with my wings, flapping doggedly to keep myself from hitting the ground.
And as the dust rolled and the watching crowd coughed, I rose out of that cloud with one hand high.
The roar of victory buffeted my ribs as my brothers celebrated.
I hung in the air until their cheers were strained with excitement and bloodlust, and then I turned.
“Zebe!” I bellowed and the crowd stopped cheering, turning to look for my second challenger. “It’s your turn.”
I smiled as my brothers parted, leaving the other male standing, glaring at me, in a wide open space. Then I opened my wings and began to drift, catching my breath, and making certain that every male present saw me utterly unconcerned as I dropped to the earth for another clash.