Eris and I were staring at the five winged shapes lying around the camp. It was mid-afternoon and it looked like they had been there a while. I couldn’t see any other people outside the plane. We were hiding in some bushes on the edge of the camp doing our best not to make any noise. I was about to whisper a question when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped and turned around, arrow knocked and ready. It was just Moira who was pointing towards the rest of the rescuers maybe a kilometre back past the treeline.

The new clothes I was wearing were much better suited to the cold. The tough leather amour was under a dark green hooded leather cloak like their rangers used. Underneath the armour were surprisingly soft goat wool pants and shirt. I didn’t think any of it would hold up to one of those stingers; but even second hand it was a nice gift. And much more comfortable than I would have expected from mediaeval armour.

Paris, the militia captain and leader of the expedition, had sent us forward because she wanted a meeting before they’d come into camp. I thought it was a bit paranoid but I guess in this world you have to be. If there’s a chance of half a dozen dragon thingies taking over our basecamp of course they’d want to send scouts to make sure it’s safe. When we returned to the others they explained the situation and a long argument commenced. I could maybe understand one word in ten. Which was an improvement; but I still needed Gorn’s help to translate.

We had nearly a hundred archers with us. They would easily be able to deal with the wyverns in two or three volleys. But we needed to rouse the wyverns from their roosts before we could get a good shot. And we would be vulnerable outside the protective cover of the trees.

Eventually Gorn’s translation trailed off as there was a commotion at the edge of the camp. Looking towards the sound I noticed the return of another five people in dark green cloaks. I guess they sent out more scouts after to us to be doubly sure I thought. With the scouts were three men in Earth clothes walking a few paces behind. The men were glancing around nervously and were holding their wooden tipped spears at a forty five degree angle to the ground. As if they were waiting for an excuse to lower them and charge.

I strode forwards and said, “Relax. We’re all friends here.” One of them jumped in fright; but they turned to me and said, “Hello, you speak English? Are you from the group that was sent to help us?”

I realised the mistake. “Andries, it’s me, Xola. Do you like my new clothes?”

“Oh, Xola is it? Jammer. How is everything.”

“Fine. The locals are very friendly. They’re waiting until after they drag us to safety before fleecing us for everything we have.” I said with a grin.

“Xola, don’t be an idiot. If your sarcasm gets mistranslated we’ll all be boned” Meacham said from behind me.

I turned around with my hand at my forehead in a mock salute. “Aye, aye sir.” He rolled his eyes before turning to Andries and the others.

“So what happened?” He asked.

“We were out checking snares yesterday. When we returned the camp was overrun by those dragons. We spent the night in the woods. They don’t seem very dangerous. They’ve spent most of their time sleeping.” A red bearded man I didn’t recognise responded.

Gorn then interrupted, “wyverns, not dragons. If they were dragons the entire plane would have been dragged off to a hoard somewhere. And we’d end up dead going after them. Though wyverns are dangerous enough. The locals say they only look tired because they’ve finished fattening themselves up for winter. If they’re threatened they’ll be just as dangerous as the ones back home in the Dwarfmounts. “

His lecture was cut short when Paris strode up and asked for an introduction. After she was certain the three men weren’t a threat she began grilling them for tactical info. “Our people are tired from the march and the wyverns are well rested. An d if we wait any longer it will be nearing sunset by the time we attack. Can the plane hold until morning?”

“I don’t think waiting until morning would be a good idea. I know you lot are tired; but the people in the plane must be on the edge of starvation by now. “ Said Redbeard.

Paris did not look happy when Gorn translated. Andries then added, “The wyverns left for a few hours around midday and midnight. During the day they returned with prey. They’re probably half asleep now.”

Eris spoke up after that statement was translated; but she seemed satisfied after a quick response by the locals. I thought I knew what she was asking. Animal Planet told me that most large predators hunt at night or close to sunrise or sunset. Some are active during either the day or the night. But hunting at noon and midnight was weird.

Eventually, after a lot of arguing, it was decided we’d head out just before dawn.

That night I couldn’t sleep. Ithemba was with Sian so there was nothing distracting me. But I was too restless. I couldn’t get up and start pacing like I did at home. Some of the militia seemed like they could see in the dark; but none of the moons were full and with the tree cover it was near pitch black away from the fire pits. I definitely didn’t want to trip over anybody.

I was half asleep when a shout woke me up. Maybe two seconds later I could hear a crashing above me as a dark blur came barrelling through the trees. I grabbed my bow. Stringing it was a bit tricky in the low light. By the time I managed it a sphere of light was hovering above Ghen’s head. It was still very dark. But I could just barely see the wyverns swooping into camp. I don’t know how they realised we were there. Maybe they just thought we were a herd of easy prey; but if they did they’d soon learn differently.

I was about to draw my bow when a crashing sound above me made me look up. One of them was coming down right above me. I rolled out of the way as a wingtip grazed my head and the beast grabbed Gorn, who had just woken up next to me. His mace was glowing as he pummelled the creature. I don’t know what he would have done if the creature dropped from higher up; but the light gave me a clear target to aim for.

I loosed one arrow at it as its tail speared a militia fighter right next to me. It was flying up towards the canopy as I loosed another. I could just barely see other arrows flying towards it. An ear piercing screech erupted while it grabbed another figure and started flying up towards the treeline. The sound was the most horrid thing I had heard in my life. I barely managed to avoid dropping my bow to protect my ears. But the next arrow I loosed went wide.

As it reached the treeline a bolt of fire hit it in the flank. At that point I guess Gorn had done enough damage to make it regret its original decision. It dropped him while carrying the other poor victim off in its claws. I loosed two more arrows after it before it disappeared from my sight.

I surveyed the rest of the camp. Two of the wyverns were lying dead or dying on the ground; peppered with arrows. The other three seemed to have escaped. I looked over to the man next to me who had been speared by the tail. There was a massive gash in his side. I tried to feel for a pulse but I couldn’t find it. It had been two years since my last first aid course so I couldn’t be sure if I was missing it. But I could just barely see the blood pooling from his nose and mouth. I decided it was above my skillset.

“Does anyone have a healing potion,” I shouted. After no replies I realised I had forgotten no one spoke English. I gave up and rushed over to Gorn to check if he could help. I feared the worst; but I heard laughter as I looked over to where the wyvern had dropped him. It looked like Ghen was fussing over him as he healed himself.

“There’s an injured man over there who was speared by one of the tails. Can you heal him?” I asked.

“I can try. But I prepared some blessings against poison before I went to bed. They’re not as effective without a good night’s rest; but I doubt I can make anything worse.”

Looking around I noticed Meacham’s bedroll was gone. And I couldn’t see him anywhere. As Gorn was stumbling over to the stinger victim I asked him, “Have you seen Meacham anywhere?”

“No. You don’t think he was taken?” Gorn replied shakily.

I started screaming “Meacham, Meacham, Meacham!” Over and over again. There was no reply.