Only then did Ludo allow himself a full breath. He sat up too quickly, the room spinning. He jammed his eyes shut, waited ten beats of his heart, and then opened them again. The room was no longer moving. He slung his legs over the side of the hard slab on which he’d been placed, and then tried them out. No pain. No weakness. He could walk, no problem. He considered removing the thick bandages, thought better of it, and then started for the door.

Cracked it open and peered out.

“Holy…,” he breathed, ducking back inside as a massive shadow dove nearby, snatching at a man who was manning some sort of wooden contraption. The man’s scream was lost on the wind as he was impaled on the winged creature’s long, spear-like beak and swept skyward by the winged menace.

“Ruttin’ dactyl is searchin’ for the boy!” someone shouted.

“Then we should give him to the bastard!” another voice shouted back.

“The boy is under my protection.” The bearer of the third voice strode into view, calmly moving toward the large wooden contraption where the previous man had stood before he’d been skewered. He was the same white-haired man who’d sat at the head of the table and mocked his fellow poachers. Their leader, perhaps.

In the sky above, the dactyl wheeled about and dropped its previous victim. He fell out of sight, and Ludo hoped he was dead before he landed. Then the winged creature turned back toward them.

The leader calmly gripped the contraption’s handles, rotating the entire thing using some sort of lubricated geared wheel of metal upon which it sat. All the while, the dactyl drew closer, its spear-beak snapping open to unleash a hatred-laced shriek.

“Ivor!” Stump, who’d also stepped into view, shouted.

The leader, Ivor apparently, ignored him, the entirety of his focus on the dactyl. Curly was already backing away toward the shadow of the door through which Ludo continued to watch.

Even from a distance, the dactyl had appeared large, but the closer it drew, the more massive it proved itself to be, its wingspan that of several men laid out head to feet. It shrieked again, and this time Ludo felt the sound in his skull, seeming to rattle his brain as he clutched at his forehead. The others weren’t immune either, Curly stumbling back and landing on his rear while Stump flattened himself on his stomach, moaning.

All except Ivor, who maintained his position, making smaller moves of the contraption, patiently waiting until the dactyl was no more than a stone’s throw away, a glistening winged terror.

Choo!

Ludo didn’t see what Ivor did, only the result, a huge ballista bolt rocketing out from the contraption, flung by a thick rope as it released its tension. Another rope was tethered to its backend, trailing like a kite string behind it.