The village men of the Tuska Clan are very much like the men of the Skyler Clan, but they live in the easternmost reaches of the Giant Mountains, where the range borders the desert. They had wing-wounded a wyvern, and followed its blood trail all the way into the lands hunted by the Skyler Clan.
Being distantly related to each other and aware of each other’s existence, primarily due to Berda and other nomadic giants, the Tuska Clan eventually sought out the Skyler Clan, seeking shelter and supplies for the long trip home. Stories were shared over a celebratory feast and Harrap brought out a skin of fire brandy he had purchased at that year’s Summer’s Day Festival.
The next day, Uncle Condlin took a handful of the curious young boys out to see the mysterious beast, whose diluted blood could supposedly be used to shape stone. Hyden remembered it now as clear as if it had been only yesterday. That wyvern hadn’t been black though, it had been a grayish brown, the color of the rocky caves in the east. Hyden remembered that its dark blood had eaten away the shafts of the spears that had finally killed it.
As he watched Vaegon try to get around the clearing to where Loudin was, by skirting the tree line, Hyden racked his brain, searching his memories of what the Tuska Clansmen had said about the wyvern, hoping to remember anything that he, or Talon, might be able to use to help them.
Vaegon darted around the edge of the forest like a startled deer, ducking this branch, leaping that root, and twisting around every clump of dead fall and undergrowth that presented itself to him. He closed the distance between him and Loudin in only a handful of heart beats. He wasn’t fast enough though.
The hellcat’s front claw caught Loudin in the chest, and ripped a trio of gouges down his body. As the hunter fell to his knees, a glistening bulge of intestine and gore bubbled out of the center furrow. The hellcat’s other fore claw, clenched around Ironspike’s scabbard beside him. Awkwardly, it began backing away from the tree line with the sword in its grasp and Mikahl’s belt dragging behind. Its wings unfurled, with a heavy snap and lifted it a hand’s breadth into the air.
Vaegon snatched the ax from the ground, and ran out after the beast. He raised the heavy headed tool over his head with both hands and hurled it at the fleeing creature as hard as he could. The hellcat rose a few more inches off the ground as the ax flew through the air, head over handle, and struck blade first into its neck just behind the ear. It stuck there a moment then fell away. The wound was deep, and probably painful, but it was far from lethal. The beast roared its displeasure at Vaegon, but still made to get away.
Loudin, still on his knees, fell forward, reaching his arms out as far as he could. His hands clasped around Mikahl’s belt, and as the horse-sized creature lifted away, he use the strength of his arms to yank at the sword. Deftly, the hellcat latched its other fore claw onto the sheath, and held it tightly.
Loudin grimaced, and pulled with all he had left in him. He came up to his knees, as the furious beast started to lift up again. He felt his guts bursting out of him, fought the pain, and the knowledge that he was as good as dead. With a mighty heave, he pulled himself to his feet, and managed to hook is arm between the hellcat’s claws, over the sheathed sword. He felt the surge of power from the hellcat’s next wing-beat lift his feet off the ground. The pain in his guts was incredible, but he held on. He swore to himself that the beast wouldn’t have Mikahl’s sword as long as he could draw breath. The beast then lifted him higher.
Vaegon felt helpless. He started to grab onto Loudin’s legs, but after seeing the two-clawed grasp the creature had on the sword, he was sure he would have only pulled Loudin free of it. The hunter’s guts were spilling now. The lining that had bulged out of his abdomen was tearing, and a coiled loop of slick, silvery intestine, dangled down by his knees.
Vaegon was certain, that at any moment, the pain of the injury would cause Loudin to let go and fall back to the earth. He grabbed up the ax, intending to take a swipe at the beast, but by then, the only things low enough for him to possibly hit, were Loudin’s dangling feet. A wing beat later, even they were up and out of the elf’s range.
A different type of roar, higher in pitch and more avian, came from where the wyvern was swooping back down at Mikahl’s prone body.