Piers Anthony - Unicorn Point

She heard their approach. They were marching in step, no longer bothering to fly ahead in their batforms. The phalanx was all they needed to crush the opposition. Phoebe wished she had anticipated this ploy, so that she could have better prepared her hens for it.

She had to do it herself. She flew low across the ground to the nearest tree-cover. Then she flew up into the sky, toward the approaching phalanx, as if unaware of it. “I hear a bat!” she screeched at top volume. “I’ll mash it!” Then she hove into sight of the phalanx, and did a dramatic doubletake. “Awk! It be a squintillion bats! Retreat, cohorts!” She spun in air, and did a tripletake. “Where be my cohorts?”

An arrow sailed toward her. She was alert for it, and took such little evasive action that it actually brushed her tail feathers. As it passed, she made a fortissimo screech and did a flip in the air. “Ouch; that scorched my tail!” Now she tumbled down as though injured, going into the scuffled region. She flapped furiously just above the ground, stirring up dust and leaves, and barely managed to avoid a crash. Now the ground had an excuse to be scuffed! She swooped into the lowest region of the flag tree, hiding from the phalanx. She had, she hoped, done her job of distraction. She had heard a laugh during her acrobatics; the batmen had enjoyed seeing her supposed distress. Now they were confident that there would be little further resistance, and they knew that would be at the flag tree. If they paid no attention to the ground—

The phalanx marched on, taking the most open course, avoiding cover where harpies might lurk. The gully was evident to the sides; the filled center of it seemed to be the obvious place to cross without messing up their formation. Had the bats not been so confident, they might have wondered at this convenient filling of a natural formation. But they stepped right up to it, and on it. There was a shriek from the ground. Sand and leaves burst up, as if an explosion had occurred. The harpies emerged at the batmen’s feet and commenced scratching. They were too low for the shields, and scooted under them before the bats realized.

For a moment the phalanx held its form. But the sounds of combat sounded within it: exultant screeching and mortified cursing. The formation broke apart as the batmen tried to use their weapons against the attackers underfoot, and succeeded mainly in stabbing each other. Beautiful! There had been about twenty manforms in the phalanx. By the time they broke far enough apart to use their weapons to destroy the six harpies, a dozen of them had been scratched too badly to continue. The hens had taken out two for one—an excellent score, though not as good as Phoebe had hoped. There were still more batmen advancing than harpies hidden in the tree. This was going to be tight. How much time had passed? It seemed but a moment, and it also seemed an hour. How close was the Sneak Squad to the enemy flag? Phoebe could not know.

The eight remaining batmen reformed their phalanx, and marched more carefully toward the tree. They knew there would be trouble here, and that it would be unsafe to change form until they were sure every defender was out of it. This would be hand-to-claw, arm-to-wing combat until one force or the other was wiped out, no quarter given. The phalanx moved right up to the tree. Then, abruptly, it broke apart, and all the manforms leaped for the tree. The defending harpies had been expecting action, but this was deceptively fast; the manforms were in among them before they realized, just as the buried birds had caught the phalanx by surprise. There was immediate turmoil in the tree, as spear poked at body, and claw struck at flesh. Phoebe scuttled aside as a spear came for her; fortunately the thick pine foliage masked her position, so the shaft was not well aimed. She found a leg and gave it one good slash; blood welled out as the poison went in, and the manform stiffened and fell back. She looked around, but though she heard action everywhere, she could not see it, and was afraid to move lest she interfere with one of her own. She heard an agonized screech, and knew that a hen had received a mortal stab. Then she heard the heavy crash of another manform falling. It seemed about even—but there were two more bats than harpies, so even wasn’t good enough. If one bat was left over then, peering worriedly up, she saw one bat appear from the distance, flying directly toward the flag. The bats had kept one in reserve! Now that all the harpies were locked in battle with the attacking batmen, no one was guarding the top spire. It could be a clean pickup, with no one even realizing that the flag was gone until too late.

All harpies were locked in battle except one. By the mischance of the obscurity of the action within the cover of the tree, Phoebe herself was free. She launched herself up, flying desperately around behind the tree so that the lone bat would not see her. It was a faster flyer than she, and it had the advantage of flying high and level, but she was closer. She could get there by the time it did, and that was all she needed. But she had been aloft during much of the action, and she had expended her strength recklessly scratching soil over the hens in the gully. Her ascent slowed as her wing muscles tired. Was she to be too late? It seemed she would. But she kept struggling upward, determined to do her utmost, lest she be accused of holding back intentionally. How could anyone know, if she missed that bat and let the flag get away, whether 1 she had really been tired, or had really wanted Stile’s side to win? How could she know?

The bat got there first, but not by much. Phoebe saw it clutch the red flag and try to fly. But the flag was firmly tied to the tree, so that no stray gust of wind would dislodge it. The bat had to cling to the slender branch of the tree and tug repeatedly at the cloth, working it loose—and in that time, Phoebe completed her climb and reached the spot herself. The bat got the flag loose just as Phoebe arrived. It spread its wings—and Phoebe’s slash severed one wing and sent it tumbling toward the ground, still clutching the flag. Then Phoebe suffered a shock of horror. She wasn’t good at recognizing bats in their batforms, but up close she could do it by smell. That bat was female—and it was Suchevane. Of course they would have saved the lovely vamp for non combat duty! Phoebe had just struck down a friend, one who had helped the alien Agape as Phoebe herself had, years ago. She saw the bat strike the ground. It was so small and light that the fall really would not hurt it much, and the wing would be instantly repaired when the siege was over. Still, it had seemed so real, and in any other circumstance could have been real. Of all the folk Phoebe did not want to hurt, Suchevane was near the top of the list. At what cost had she won her victory?

Then she saw a manbat emerge from the tree, evidently having dispatched his opposite number. He ran for the flag. The siege was not yet over!

Phoebe, hovering tiredly, did what she had to. She dive bombed the manform. It was much faster going down than going up, especially this way. As the manform bent to pick up the flag, she swooped across and caught his head in her talons. The bladelike edges sliced into his neck, finishing him instantly. A standing manform might have fended her off with his arms, but this one was in a vulnerable position at the moment.

The manform dropped, unconscious, and rolled over, the flag in his hand. She looped back—and saw that it was Vidselud, the Bat Chief’s son. She felt another surge of anguish. He was about third on her list of bats not to hurt. Had she known—could she have done otherwise?

A third enemy emerged from the tree. This was Vodlevile, the Chief himself, holding a spear. He hurled it at Phoebe. She scrambled aside, but it caught the tip of her right wing. She felt the pain of the wound exactly as if it were real; could the Adepts be playing a macabre joke, making them believe that real injuries and deaths were mock?—but not mortal. She would be unable to fly well, if at all, but she could still get around on the ground. She took up a position between the batman and the flag.