Read Online Descent of Angels by Mitchel Scanlon - Free Book Online Page B

Its large body was easily the size of one of their horses, undulating as though a million serpents writhed beneath its glistening flesh. Its spiny head snapped and bit at the end of a long, snake-like neck, its jaws long and narrow, filled with razored fangs like the teeth of a woodsman’s saw. Its wings were filmy and translucent, edged in ridges of horny carapace and ending in long, barbed claws.
    Zahariel had never seen its like before, and his momentary horror at its awful appearance almost cost him his life.
    The beast’s wings slashed as though it were about to take flight, and one of the barbed hooks scored a deep groove across his breastplate, pitching him from the back of his screaming horse.
    Zahariel hit the ground hard as he heard another anguished scream of agony. He struggled to rise, his movements awkward in his armour. He reached for his fallen pistol as a wide shadow engulfed him, and he twisted his head as the screeching, reptilian bird towered above him, its jaws wide and ready to snap him in two.

FOUR
    Z AHARIEL ROLLED AS the beast’s beak stabbed downwards. He slithered onto his back and brought his pistol around. Three shots boomed from the barrel in a blaze of light and Zahariel was momentarily blinded by the brightness. The noise was deafening, his helmet only slightly muffling the sounds. He scrambled away from the beast on his backside, fully expecting every second to be his last.
    He heard more shots, and as his vision cleared he saw Nemiel crouching behind a tree and pumping shots from his pistol at the beast as it clawed at the remains of Zahariel’s horse.
    Blood like molten wax oozed from three neat holes in the beast’s chest, but if they had discomfited it, Zahariel could not tell, for it fought and roared as fiercely as it had when first attacking.
    The beast’s wing shot out and clove through the trunk of the tree Nemiel was using for shelter and slammed into his cousin’s chest. Nemiel dropped to the ground, his breastplate cracked, but still whole, for the impact with the tree had blunted much of the force of the beast’s blow.
    Zahariel scrambled to his feet as he saw the scattered remnants of his squad panic in the face of the monster. Eliath was pinned beneath his mount, the horse’s flank opened from neck to rump, and Attias sat petrified at the edge of the clearing. The young boy’s mount stood stock still, its ears pressed flat against its skull and its eyes wide with terror, rooting them both to the spot.
    The beast turned towards Attias and let out an ululating roar, spreading its wings and bunching its muscles as it prepared to attack
    ‘Hey!’ screamed Zahariel, stepping from the cover of the trees and waving his arms above his head. ‘Over here!’
    The beast’s head turned on its sinuous neck, its blood-frothed jaws opening wide and its black, soulless eyes fixing upon him. Zahariel drew his sword and aimed his pistol at the drooling monster.
    ‘Ho, ugly!’ he shouted. ‘If you want him, you have to take me first!’
    He had no idea whether or not the beast understood the words he was saying, but there was little doubt that it understood the challenge of his actions on a primal, animal scale.
    Without waiting for a response, Zahariel opened fire, the pistol bucking in his hand, and wet blooms of filmy blood burst from the beast’s chest. It screeched and lunged towards him, its head shooting forward like the thrust of a sword.
    Zahariel leapt to the side, the blade of its beak slashing past him, barely a hand’s span from skewering him. Faster than he would have believed possible, the beast’s head twisted in the air to catch him a glancing blow just below his hip.
    He flew through the air and slammed into a tree, the breath exploding from his lungs and his weapons tumbling from his hands as he fell to the ground.
    Shouts and cries of terror sounded around Zahariel and he shook his head as he tried to get his bearings once again. He heard his squad crying