theCorning force, carrying the fight to the other side of the coming divide.
But then, suddenly, the battle came to a standstill, a hacking mob of confusion. Rhiannon kept her charge straight in, knowing that if she veered to the south, she would take her chasm with her and strand Belexus and the others in the midst of the entire talon force.
Belexus saw her intent and tried to get beside her, but the press was too great, and the ranger could only watch in horror as a group of talons formed a line in her path to intercept.
“Fly!” Rhiannon whispered to her horse, and the horse leaped high into the air, soared higher than a horse could possibly leap, clearing the stunned talons beyond even the reach of their weapons.
And the ensuing thunder when the black and white steed’s hooves crashed back down to the ground rolled the plain like waves in an ocean. Lizard and horse, talon and human, tumbled to the ground, stunned and blinded by an upheaval of dust and clumps of earth.
But Rhiannon, her face streaked with sweat and grime, her black mane matted to her neck and shoulders, emerged from that cloud, charging along her route. And to Belexus, watching her courageous ride, she seemed no less beautiful.
They crashed into the walls, clawing and hacking with wild abandon, ignoring the hail of arrows or the burning death of boiling oil. Possessed with the fury of Morgan Thalasi, the talons knew no fear.
Meriwindle charged about the parapets, spurring his soldiers on. And when a few of the wretched talons managed to gain a foothold over a wall, they inevitably found the noble elf in their faces, slashing away with his sword.
And so it continued for half an hour, the talons blindlyfighting to appease their master and their own hunger for man-flesh. And the proud people of Corning fighting back for their lives, and for the lives of those who had fled for the river.
Tuloos knocked one talon from the wall, only to find two others taking its place. The mayor stumbled backward and fell, and the hulking forms towered over him. He cried out, thinking that the moment of his death was upon him.
But then a sword flicked above him, once and then again, and both talons dropped. Meriwindle pulled Tuloos back to his feet.
The elf was a garish sight indeed, and Tuloos could not understand how Meriwindle was even standing with his life-blood flowing from so many grievous wounds.
“We are holding them!” Meriwindle cried, and all fear flew from Tuloos at the sheer determination in Meriwindle’s voice. Here was the elf who had stood beside Arien Silverleaf on the field of Mountaingate, the warrior who had survived the centuries in the jagged shadows of the Great Crystal Mountains.
Tuloos looked around at the carnage that was Corning, the rubble and the dead and dying. But more so, the mayor let his gaze drift out over the eastern gate, down the road to the river.
The empty road to the river.
He knew that the sacrifices made this day in Corning had bought those helpless, fleeing Calvans some precious time. If only he and his men could hold out a little longer.
If only …
The talon army calmed suddenly and backed away from the walls, those before the western gate parting wide to reveal a gaunt and robed figure.
“Angfagdul,” Meriwindle muttered grimly, using theenchantish name for the Black Warlock. He had seen the likes of Morgan Thalasi before.
“Surrender your town!” the Black Warlock demanded in a voice dripping with a power not of this earth. “Surrender now and I will let you live!”
Mayor Tuloos understood that doom had come, knew that all hope was gone. But he knew, too, the lie that he now faced. The Black Warlock would keep no prisoners other than slaves to draw his carts until they dropped dead in their tracks from hunger and exhaustion. All around him, his weary men leaned on their weapons, their will for this fight fading with the last remnants of hope. To a man, they looked to Tuloos for
But then, suddenly, the battle came to a standstill, a hacking mob of confusion. Rhiannon kept her charge straight in, knowing that if she veered to the south, she would take her chasm with her and strand Belexus and the others in the midst of the entire talon force.
Belexus saw her intent and tried to get beside her, but the press was too great, and the ranger could only watch in horror as a group of talons formed a line in her path to intercept.
“Fly!” Rhiannon whispered to her horse, and the horse leaped high into the air, soared higher than a horse could possibly leap, clearing the stunned talons beyond even the reach of their weapons.
And the ensuing thunder when the black and white steed’s hooves crashed back down to the ground rolled the plain like waves in an ocean. Lizard and horse, talon and human, tumbled to the ground, stunned and blinded by an upheaval of dust and clumps of earth.
But Rhiannon, her face streaked with sweat and grime, her black mane matted to her neck and shoulders, emerged from that cloud, charging along her route. And to Belexus, watching her courageous ride, she seemed no less beautiful.
They crashed into the walls, clawing and hacking with wild abandon, ignoring the hail of arrows or the burning death of boiling oil. Possessed with the fury of Morgan Thalasi, the talons knew no fear.
Meriwindle charged about the parapets, spurring his soldiers on. And when a few of the wretched talons managed to gain a foothold over a wall, they inevitably found the noble elf in their faces, slashing away with his sword.
And so it continued for half an hour, the talons blindlyfighting to appease their master and their own hunger for man-flesh. And the proud people of Corning fighting back for their lives, and for the lives of those who had fled for the river.
Tuloos knocked one talon from the wall, only to find two others taking its place. The mayor stumbled backward and fell, and the hulking forms towered over him. He cried out, thinking that the moment of his death was upon him.
But then a sword flicked above him, once and then again, and both talons dropped. Meriwindle pulled Tuloos back to his feet.
The elf was a garish sight indeed, and Tuloos could not understand how Meriwindle was even standing with his life-blood flowing from so many grievous wounds.
“We are holding them!” Meriwindle cried, and all fear flew from Tuloos at the sheer determination in Meriwindle’s voice. Here was the elf who had stood beside Arien Silverleaf on the field of Mountaingate, the warrior who had survived the centuries in the jagged shadows of the Great Crystal Mountains.
Tuloos looked around at the carnage that was Corning, the rubble and the dead and dying. But more so, the mayor let his gaze drift out over the eastern gate, down the road to the river.
The empty road to the river.
He knew that the sacrifices made this day in Corning had bought those helpless, fleeing Calvans some precious time. If only he and his men could hold out a little longer.
If only …
The talon army calmed suddenly and backed away from the walls, those before the western gate parting wide to reveal a gaunt and robed figure.
“Angfagdul,” Meriwindle muttered grimly, using theenchantish name for the Black Warlock. He had seen the likes of Morgan Thalasi before.
“Surrender your town!” the Black Warlock demanded in a voice dripping with a power not of this earth. “Surrender now and I will let you live!”
Mayor Tuloos understood that doom had come, knew that all hope was gone. But he knew, too, the lie that he now faced. The Black Warlock would keep no prisoners other than slaves to draw his carts until they dropped dead in their tracks from hunger and exhaustion. All around him, his weary men leaned on their weapons, their will for this fight fading with the last remnants of hope. To a man, they looked to Tuloos for
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