“That means it was just here a short time ago,” said Evenor.
A sense of imminent danger sent a prickling sensation down the back of Atalanta’s neck. She turned in a slow circle, her spear clenched tight, her ears alert for any sound of movement in the gloom. All she could hear was the rain beating on the foliage and the tense breathing of her companions. All thought of shelter was forgotten now. Each of the hunters held their weapons ready.
“Do you think it knows we’re here?” Ancaeus asked anxiously, shifting his axe nervously from hand to hand.
Orion shook his head. “This is an animal, not a fiend. Let’s see if these tracks lead anywhere. And friends, let’s be silent about it.” He held up his hand and motioned them behind him while he scrutinized the ground.
Step by careful step, he followed the wet tracks, bent over in concentration.
All of a sudden he stood up and spat to one side. “Pah! The tracks give out after only a short way. All of you, make a tight circle around these tracks and then slowly spread out to check the rest of the clearing.”
As they began to move into the circle, Orion added, “Stay alert.”
Atalanta wiped a wet strand of hair from her face and cried out a single word, “Wings!”
Everyone stopped, turned, looked at her.
Orion smacked a hand to his head. “Of course! I’m so used to tracking large animals on the ground, I’d forgotten…”
At that very moment there was a blast of lightning. It lit the clearing and silhouetted a huge winged shape that swooped down out of the storm-torn sky. A hideous roar shook the air as the mantiger crashed into the middle of the hunters, its wings and paws and snaky tail striking out in every direction.
Caught unawares by the suddenness of the attack, the hunters were sent flying like dice tossed from a cup.
Atalanta was struck across the face by a slash from the snake tail and went sprawling onto her back. She was saved from further injury by her pack. Even dazed, she had the presence of mind to roll away, out of reach of the beast’s claws. Over and over she rolled until she bumped painfully into a tree, bruising her ribs.
Another roar rang in her ears, drowning out the cries of her companions. Groggily she forced herself to her feet and looked around for her spear.
Melanion staggered toward her, a wide gash in his head. Atalanta grabbed him to keep him from falling over.
“Where’s your spear?” she asked urgently.
“Lost it,” he croaked, face screwing up in pain.
“Banged my head on a rock.”
Atalanta wiped the raindrops from her eyes as another lightning flash illuminated the scene. She saw the monstrous shape of the mantiger crouching over Ancaeus who was sprawled on his back in the grass, eyes wide with panic. He had his axe in his right hand.
Atalanta tried to move toward the fallen prince, but Melanion was still leaning on her and the added weight made her slip on the wet earth and collapse to her knees.
By now Ancaeus had pushed himself up on his left elbow and lashed out with his weapon. The blade whooshed through empty air, missing the mantiger completely. Before he could attempt another blow, a massive paw slammed his arm to the ground and pinned it there, the claws going right through the muscle.
He screamed.
Hierax rushed out of the gloom, limping, and drove his spear at the creature’s flank, but a wing swept up and batted the weapon out of his hands.
“Don’t fear, my prince!” Hierax shouted, drawing his knife. Before he could strike, the monster rounded on him, seizing him in its yawning mouth. Still pinning Ancaeus under its paws, the mantiger shook Hierax like a cat with a rat, till his neck cracked. Then the beast flung the lifeless body to the ground.
It was then that Orion charged, yelling a war cry as he came at the beast with his first spear.
The mantiger twisted with astonishing speed. Pulling its claws out of Ancaeus’ arm, it grabbed the shaft of Orion’s spear between its teeth. With a jerk of its huge maned head, it tried to rip the weapon out of Orion’s grasp, but the huntsman held on fast. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, his muscles swelling as he tried to lever the spear away. He swatted at the beast with the second spear, for he hadn’t the distance to throw it.
Scrambling about on her hands and knees, Atalanta groped for her own spear, wondering all the while where Evenor had gone to. Beside her, Melanion was crawling, trying to shake the pain from his injured head.
The mantiger pushed toward Orion, lashing out at him with its claws, and Orion managed to dodge the blow by less than an inch, losing the second spear in consequence. Then the beast flung back its head and the spear was wrenched from Orion’s hand. He was thrown back, colliding with a boulder.
The mantiger spat out the spear as though it were a piece of straw and let out an awful roar. Step-by-step it began to advance on Orion, snarling its victory.
At last Atalanta’s fingers closed around a shaft of a spear, one of Orion’s. She jumped to her feet and threw it. But she wasn’t used to its length or heft, and it struck the beast on the shoulder and glanced off harmlessly.
Still, for a split second, the mantiger was distracted and that was all the time Orion needed to yank out his long hunting knife. He struck out at the beast with a wide swing of his arm. The blade only cut through its heavy mane as it drew back with a growl.
Evenor suddenly appeared from behind a bush where he’d been hurled in the initial attack. Blood gushed from a wound in his arm, but he rushed to Orion’s side and for a moment held the mantiger at bay with his spear.
“Get the prince away!” Orion ordered the others as he scrambled up. Then he and Evenor slashed and jabbed desperately to hold off the ferocious creature that was slowly forcing them back.
Now Melanion was on his feet and, together with Atalanta, he hurried to his uncle and grabbed him under his arms. Heaving Ancaeus to his feet, they dragged him into the trees. As soon as they did so, the mantiger whirled about, left its pursuit of Evenor and Orion, and bounded after them.
Atalanta looked back over her shoulder and saw the mantiger getting ready to leap.
Suddenly from out of the darkness, a wild, shaggy shape threw itself at the mantiger.
“Urso!” Atalanta cried. “Don’t! Stop!”
But he wasn’t hers to command. Bear and mantiger were of a size and they fought viciously, rolling over and over in the wet grass.
“Go!” Orion shouted at Atalanta and Melanion. “Get the prince away from here.”
Atalanta hesitated a moment. How could she leave her bear? She felt for her bow and arrows. Miraculously they were not damaged. But in this light, the chances of hitting the bear rather than the mantiger were great. She didn’t know what to do.
Melanion was dragging his uncle by himself now, and they were nearly into the trees.
Think, Atalanta, think, she told herself. There was nothing she could do for Urso at the moment. She had to help with Ancaeus. She ran over and grabbed his other arm.
“More men,” the prince was mumbling to himself as his feet trailed across the ground. “Should have brought more men.”
“Over that way,” said Melanion. “There are some rocks there. We can barricade ourselves in if necessary.”
In a few minutes they’d reached a cleft in the rocks with a broad stony overhang extending above. This formed a small shelter at the foot of a crag that soared above them as a sheer wall. They stepped over an enormous fallen tree to get into the cleft.
Then they laid the prince on the ground and looked out through the gap in the rocks.
“Listen!” said Melanion. “I think I hear something coming!”
Atalanta listened. She heard deep breathing and the sound of little rocks scattering away from heavy feet. Setting an arrow to her bow, she crept out till she could see over the tree but not be seen and watched the wet foliage shaking violently. Whatever was coming up those rocks, she was ready to shoot.