Carter stepped out of their formation, ignoring a hissed warning from Lazarus, and bent to pick up the carcass. The two men moved in to cover her, as she examined it. “Broken neck.”
“Probably happened when it hit the SAPI plate,” Lazarus said. “Leave it.”
Carter turned it over. Pierce saw that the creature’s bill had the same iridescent hues as the quills that sprouted from its white plumage. “It’s an egret,” she announced. “But I think it’s been hybridized, like the Lion. Probably with a porcupine. That would explain the quills. I’d like to sequence it when we get out of here.”
Lazarus let out an irritated growl but she ignored him, tucking the dead bird’s feet into her belt. “Ready.”
Lazarus shook his head and moved closer to the rocks. He climbed to the top but stayed low, keeping his shield up. Pierce and Carter followed suit.
When they were all in place, Pierce pointed to the nearest structure, a ruin with crumbling walls and no roof. “There. The walls will make it harder for them to hit us.”
Lazarus nodded. “When I say go, we range walk, and don’t stop until we’re inside.”
“Range walk?” Pierce asked.
“Sorry. Military term. Walk fast, but don’t run. Running increases the chances of tripping, and tripping increases the chances of dying.”
“Range walk. Got it.”
“Good.” He paused a beat and then said simply, “Go.”
They sprang to their feet and began striding across the open ground. The two birds overhead turned and dove toward them. Carter faltered. Lazarus shouted for her to keep moving, but there was no avoiding the birds.
George stood in front of Carter, raised the shield high and was nearly knocked off his feet as the leading bird struck it. A three-inch long metallic-looking spear tip punched through the layers of bark just above Pierce’s forearm, and then the shield began to shake as if a giant was trying to rip it away from him. He stumbled forward as the bird, in a flurry of wings, tried to extract itself.
Lazarus gripped Pierce’s arm, supporting his efforts. Then the second bird made its attack, diving toward Lazarus, but the big man was faster, swiping the air with his shield and batting it away. He then reached around Pierce, knife in hand, and hacked at the bird caught in Pierce’s shield. There was an agonized squawk and a simultaneous grunt from Lazarus. The thrashing on the other side of the shield ceased, but when Lazarus drew his knife hand back, it was bristling with quills.
“Keep going!” Lazarus shouted.
Despite the earlier advice, Pierce ran. Carter was close behind him, while Lazarus brought up the rear, his shield raised.
Pierce glanced back and was relieved to see that the sky was clear. The bird stuck in his shield was probably dead, and the one Lazarus had bashed was stunned or possibly also dead. Definitely out of the fight.
His relief was short-lived. When they were still ten yards from the building, he heard a low ominous rushing sound that grew to deafening intensity.
Flapping wings.
A lot of them.
He glanced up and saw the sky darken as dozens, perhaps even hundreds of winged creatures filled the air above them. As if guided by a single mind, the entire flock of Stymphalian birds shot toward them.
Lazarus threw his arms out in a sweeping gesture, propelling both Pierce and Carter toward the ruins. “Run!”
Pierce raised his shield over his head, but stayed close to Carter, keeping the edge of his shield in contact with hers, doubling the protection provided by the bark sheets. The shield blocked his view of the approaching swarm, but he didn’t need to see them to know that they were in serious trouble.
Something slammed into the shield, staggering Pierce. Another long spike punctured the wood right above his forearm. Another impact followed, and then another. Too many to count. The inside of the shield was transformed into a bed of nails.
Behind him, Lazarus swung his shield back and forth, deflecting the diving birds and knocking them out of the air as they attacked. But for every bird he demolished, two more made it past the barrier, slashing at his torso with their beaks and stabbing their spiny quills into him. His combat harness hung in shreds and blood streamed from dozens of wounds, but he fought on.
They were not even halfway to the shelter of the ruins.
Carter stumbled. Pierce caught her arm and tried to keep her from falling but the relentless assault from above had him off balance. Instead of keeping her on her feet, he went down alongside her. For a moment, they were both exposed and vulnerable, but Pierce twisted around and got his shield up, covering himself and her.
The shield shuddered against him like a wild animal trying to wrestle out of his grip. Dozens of birds, their beaks caught in the bark, tried to wrestle free, even as more birds slammed into their midst. The number of holes weakened the barrier. It was only a matter of time—perhaps seconds—before it came apart.
Pierce felt something brush against his legs—not more birds but Lazarus, bloody and beaten, crawling to join them. His face was a bleeding mask of pain. “Go!”