Echoes of the Fourth Magic by R. A. Salvatore

And Del felt, strongest of all, the pervading evil that bound the place together, a force that was still very much alive. A shudder shook the vision from him.
    “There Thalasi bred his army, and quickly indeed do talons breed and mature,” Calae continued. “And time mattered little, for the Colonnae had bestowed upon the Four the gift of long years. Thalasi could have spent centuries preparing an army that would have swept everything away before it, but his thirst for power overcame his patience. A mere century after the forging of Talas-dun, Thalasi, the Black Warlock, led the mutants back to Calva.
    “The talons could not hope to defeat the more numerous Calvans in open battle, but Thalasi counted on surprise to carry him through to Pallendara. He knew that if he could get to the city and overthrow the Overlord quickly, the scattered hamlets of the plains would not organize against him. And in his arrogance, Thalasi believed the two remaining wizards to be no match for him. Yet the Calvans were not caught unaware. The second of the Four, kindly Rudy Glendower, had privately questioned Thalasi’s motives when the mutants had first been led away. Ever the wary guardian of peace, Glendower anticipated the eventual return of Thalasi and had always kept one eye toward Talas-dun. With his warnings, then, the Calvans had time to assemble a great force. They charged westward across the fields to meet the invaders at the great river Ne’er Ending. Thalasi’s army came on only to find the four bridges that spanned the river blocked by the Calvan force. Ever merciful, the Calvans offered peace, ordering the talons to return to their mountain homeland and demanding Thalasi as a prisoner. But Thalasi’s years of torment had worked wickedly on his charges, and the self-named Black Warlocktruly believed himself invincible. Even with the plans for surprise ruined, he attacked. The ferocity of his army was great and at first they drove hard into the Calvan ranks, but Glendower and Perrault, the third wizard, managed to keep Thalasi’s enchantments at bay while the Calvan wave countered, smashing and scattering their ill-bred foes.”
    A second image blossomed in Del’s mind as Calae imparted to him the scenes of that fierce battle. The armies clashed upon four arcing stone bridges spanning a shining silver river, though the water steadily reddened with the blood of fallen combatants.
    The sheer savagery of the talons appalled Del. With total disregard for their own lives, they launched themselves at the Calvan spearmen, thrashing wildly with their short swords, biting and gouging. They swept through the first ranks, overwhelming the civilized men with demonic ferocity, and pushed their foes back to the end of the bridges. But as the monsters came on, not just killing, but goring and mutilating the men caught in their savage rush, the Calvans, too, turned ugly. Faces twisted in rage, they surged into the mutant throng, matching the talon brutality blow for blow. The defined lines of the opponents disappeared as the battle became an entwined cluster of slashing swords and thrusting spears, and soon the howls of fury were drowned out by screams of agony. Several times man and mutant, grappling in mortal combat, fell from a bridge to the mighty river below. Even then they continued their frenzied struggle, though it meant that neither could escape watery death in the powerful current.
    Attrition gradually thinned the smaller mutant force, and as the outcome became obvious, the vision faded from Del’s view. Sweat stung his eyes. He looked to his companions, and their stunned expressions told him they had also witnessed the horror of the struggle.
    “Thalasi was thrown down that day and believed killed,” Calae continued when the men regained their composure. “But evil does not die so easily, and the spirit of MorganThalasi lurks ever in Aielle, with patience bitterly learned, awaiting a second chance.
    “The treachery of Thalasi