He was wakened by the wyverns restlessly prowling about their stall, making loud screeching sounds, clawing at the floor, and hitting their tails against the sides of the stall. Such behavior was unusual, especially after a long and tiring journey. He ascribed their nervousness to the proximity of the dragons and he went into their stall to try to reassure them that they were safe. The wyverns could not see the dragons, nor hear them, yet they seemed unable to settle.
The wyverns calmed down for the moment, curled up on the straw-strewn floor, their tails wrapped around their bodies, their heads buried in their tails, and closed their eyes. Brother Barnaby returned wearily to his bed, only to be roused again by their screeching. He was certain the noise must be disturbing Father Jacob and Sir Ander, even though the Retribution was on the other side of the wall, some forty yards distance from the stables. Wyverns have carrying calls.
Fearing they would rouse Father Jacob, Brother Barnaby picked up his blanket and went to stay with his wyverns in their stall. His presence soothed the beasts-at least they quit screeching and lay down. But the wyverns remained exceedingly nervous. They could not sleep. He could see their reptilian eyes glittering in the darkness.
Their nervousness began to affect Brother Barnaby. Wyverns were believed to be distantly related to dragons (who indignantly refuted this claim) and, though wyverns were not nearly as smart as their more advanced cousins, wyverns had good instincts. Brother Barnaby recalled the time his wyverns had stubbornly refused to fly, going so far as to rip the leather halter out of his hands when he’d tried to put it on. Father Jacob had been incensed and suggested darkly that they have wyvern stew for dinner. Within a matter of hours, a fierce storm came out of nowhere, with hail, hurricane-force winds, and torrential rain. If the Retribution had been caught in the storm, the yacht would have crashed. Brother Barnaby gently pointed this out to Father Jacob, who grumbled, but eventually apologized to the wyverns, though he was still heard to refer to them as “witless lizards.”
Near dawn, Brother Barnaby and the wyverns both heard the cannon fire. The wyverns’ heads reared up, yellow eyes gleaming in alarm. Brother Barnaby knew the naval cutter was flying routine patrols. Sir Ander had pointed it out to him. The monk did not have much experience with navy ships or naval customs. He had no idea why the ship would be firing its guns. He wondered if it was some sort of salute.
The stable had windows on both sides of the building, allowing for the flow of fresh air through the stalls. Brother Barnaby walked over to the window and looked out. He could not see the naval cutter. The abbey wall blocked his view.
The cannon fire continued unabated and now even someone as naive about naval warfare as Brother Barnaby realized this was no salute. The ship was engaged in battle. The wyverns were on their feet, tails twitching. Their nostrils flared. They turned their heads this way and that, sniffing the air and not liking what they smelled, apparently, for their lips rolled back in snarls, exposing sharp fangs.
Green fire suddenly lit the night. The fire came from the other side of the abbey wall in the direction of the Retribution. Brother Barnaby could hear shrill, ear-piercing shrieks mingled with the sound of crackling explosions. He heard a bang, the report of a pistol.
Green fire-the demons.
Father Jacob and Sir Ander were under attack by the same demons who had slaughtered the nuns. Brother Barnaby’s first reaction was to go to the aid of his friends, do what he could to help. He was turning from the window when he heard whirring sounds. He bat wings blotting out the stars and the glowing orange eyes of their demon riders.
The orange eyes saw him.
Shocked and appalled, Brother Barnaby sprang back from the window. He now knew what had been upsetting his wyverns, who were crazed with fear, flapping their wings and stomping their feet and lashing out with their tails. Trapped inside, they might break bones or tear the membrane of their wings. Brother Barnaby flung open the gate to the stall and tried to drive the wyverns out.
The panicked beasts were flustered and afraid. He shouted and waved his arms and finally they obeyed him and ran from the stall. Still shouting, he drove the wyverns down the long aisle toward the large stable doors that were standing wide open.
A ball of green fire flew through a window into one of the stalls. The timber posts and straw burst into flames. The fire and smoke spurred on the wyverns. They shrieked in terror and made a dash for it. Running out of the stable door, the wyverns spread their wings and were about to take to the air when they were attacked by the bats and their demons riders.
Brutish, sullen, and not very smart, wyverns are notorious bullies and cowards. They will kill deer, sheep, horses, cows, or humans-any prey not likely to put up a fight. Confronted by a dragon, a griffin, or even a good-size eagle, wyverns will turn tail and run for their lives.
The wyverns had never encountered such creatures as these gigantic bats, which dove and darted at their heads in an attempt to claw out their eyes. The wyverns had no intention of fighting this strange and terrifying foe. Shrieking in terror and pain, the wyverns kept trying frantically to escape by taking to the air. The bats clustered thick around them, striking at their wings, preventing them from getting off the ground.
Green fireballs burst in the stables. The building was now fully engulfed in flame. Half-blinded by smoke, Brother Barnaby heard his wyverns’ frightened screams and saw them surrounded by the darting bats. He grabbed a length of flaming timber and ran out of the stables.
The bats had no riders. Brother Barnaby did not stop to think about what that might mean. His one thought was to save his wyverns. He waved the flaming brand at one of the bats. The bat snarled and shrieked at him, but the creature did not like the fire and veered off.
Heartened, Brother Barnaby drove away two more bats and one of the wyverns managed spread his wings and fly off the ground. A bat clung to the neck of the second wyvern, biting at the wyvern’s head and trying to dig its claws into the scales. The wyvern was frantic with pain and terror, shrieking and flinging its head about, trying to dislodge the bat. Brother Barnaby struck the bat with the flaming timber. Burning cinders set the bat’s hair ablaze. The bat snarled and let go its hold on the wyvern and flew off, trailing smoke.
Barnaby slapped the wyvern on its flank and yelled at it, urging it to fly. The wyvern at last managed to leap into the air. Now that the wyverns were airborne, they could attack with their claws. The bats hung back, wary.
“Fly!” Barnaby yelled at the wyverns. “Fly away!”
Something caused him to turn around. He did not know what. Perhaps he heard something. Perhaps it was nothing more than primal instinct, the prickling of the hair on the back of his neck. Brother Barnaby felt the foe behind him and whipped around. He saw glaring orange eyes and the reflection of their hideous light on the blade of an ax poised to strike him.
Brother Barnaby had never received martial training. The monk was a healer and had vowed to never take a human life. He acted out of instinct, thrusting the flaming wood straight at the glowing eyes, striking the demon in the face. The glowing orange light went out. The demon dropped the ax and clasped its hands over its face. Three more pairs of orange eyes emerged from the stables. The demons were closing in on him.
He saw suddenly these same fiends attacking the helpless nuns, their axes cutting off their limbs, chopping up the bodies, feeding them to their bats. Anger blazed inside Brother Barnaby, anger such as he had never known before. He had read about the wrath of God. He knew then how God felt.