She staggered slightly and clutched arms around her body. Pain grew in her like a metastasizing cancer. She clamped her teeth to hold back a howl of agony. The black sun had turned to red, and there was no pleasure in the fire that ate at her belly and limbs. Battle raged, her body the battleground and her mind and soul the prize. But still her Will shone brighter than the fire. Gripped by distress that transcended mere physical pain, Synalon shouted a word of Command.
A ball of fire enveloped her. Her guards fell back, throwing up their hands to shield their faces against the dreadful searing heat. Something had gone wrong. Their queen was being reduced to ashes before their eyes.
Then the flame vanished, rushing away across the doomed seaport as the giant salamander Synalon had conjured within her own body was set to do her bidding. It etched a line of death through the air, leaving ludintip and eagles alike flaming in its wake. It cast itself into the waterspout.
Windows exploded in the two cities as the salamander's scream of agony burst like a bomb above the harbor. Water was the foe of Fire; Synalon had brought forth the sprite only to hurl it to horrid death. But not immediate death. Tottering, going to her knees on the lip of the pier, Synalon forced the salamander to remain in being, denying it the surcease of death that was its only desire.
Steam hid waterspout and harbor. Naked now, her glorious black mane charred to a smouldering, crackling stubble, Synalon clung to the stone of the pier. Though her body was drained of strength, though her skin stung as to the touch of a hot iron, she continued to work her Will upon spirits of Air and Fire, while her servitors watched in horror from the skywall.
Misty tendrils began to billow from the swirling cloud. Though the wind had been blowing out toward the harbor, they crept into the streets of Kara-Est, swallowing the city like a vast white amoeba. The surviving artillerists shouted in dismay and disbelief as the cloud engulfed them, hiding the sky from their view.
With an eagle's cry of challenge and delight, Rann launched Terror once more from the rim of the City. Behind him flew a hundred of the elite Sky Guard. Huge protuberances grew from the docks, became the sausages of giant balloons, silks gleaming in the sun. Though salamander-heated air filled the gasbags almost to the bursting point, they could not successfully lift the freight of men and arms that swung below. Five balloons towed by a score of straining eagles carried five hundred men toward the Hills of Cholon and the Ducal Palace in the wake of Rann's attack.
The Palace garrison saw them coming and sent a frantic signal for reinforcements to watchers in a spire atop the Hall of Deputies, who were only just visible above the unnatural fog. Then the bird riders struck. An arrow storm swept engineers from their emplacements. Detachments veered to land at preassigned parts of the Palace, while Rann and a dozen men attacked the tower.
Duke Morn awaited them. Somehow he seemed to fill his suit of plate and chain as robustly as he had before the death of his beloved wife and his heir. He held his head high. When the Sky Guard came for him, he killed six with a greatsword that flickered featherlight from side to side. The seventh he faced was Rann, and the duke did not prevail.
Still convinced the day was his, General Hausan despatched most of his defenders to aid the duke. Neither Tonsho nor Marshal Suema shared his optimism.
'Yes, yes,' the general cackled like a hen sitting on an egg. 'This will be the finest hour for the city. The very finest. We triumph on all fronts! The bird lovers are being repelled on all fronts. Oh, yes, a fine day. Fine.' Sky Marshal Suema drew Tonsho aside.
'The plan, Excellency,' Suema whispered in the Chief Deputy's ear. 'Shall we execute it?'
Tonsho nodded jerkily. Her teeth chattered too violently for her to speak.
Claws scrabbled on the stone as Grutz heaved his bulk out of the water. Fost let go of the animal's stubby tail to hoist himself onto the dock. He scrambled into the saddle and turned back. Chubchuk appeared, with Jennas still aboard his broad back. A cloud covered the harbor like a fleecy white roof. Sounds echoed eerily beneath: screams, shouts, the crack of splitting timbers, the roaring of the sylph. From above came the hideous keening that had sounded since the fireball from the City had plunged into the depths of the waterspout.
'A fire elemental, I do believe,' said Erimenes from his jug. 'Quite amazing. Synalon's position as foremost enchanter of the age is assured now beyond all doubt.' 'How nice for her,' said Fost. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'
'I think getting the Hell out of this scene is quite beyond your powers, friend Fost.' The spirit chortled eerily as the two bears broke into a soggy, squishy run.
The waterspout had cut through the anchored naval vessels like a scythe. Then it began to rampage at random across the harbor, picking up ships and flinging them to the points of the compass. Even the slovenly Miscreate did not escape its attention.
Fost saw Ortil Onsulomulo. The golden Dwarf had climbed up the Miscreate's rigging and clung with one hand while he shook his chubby fist at the elemental. Then the wind funnel caught the vessel. Fost had a final glimpse of Onsulomulo hurling defiant curses at his enemy before man and ship vanished.
Fost turned away. He was all too aware of moisture on his cheeks that had a taste different from the rank water of the harbor.
Leading the way, Fost rode for the southern fringes of the seaport. He had no particular reason for heading that way. All he knew was that the center of town wasn't going to be a healthy place. Battle raged furiously in the thickness of the fog.
They rounded a corner and steel hissed reflexiveiy into his hand before his brain had time to evaluate the situation. A brown eagle, its chest a blaze of white, swooped straight at them. Grutz snarled a challenge, and jennas unslung her greatsword.
The bird paid them no heed. It set down lightly in the middle of the block and stood gazing over its shoulder at the rider clinging to its back. The dark-haired woman rider slumped over the bird wore the armlet of the Guard.
As he and Jennas watched, the woman swayed and toppled to the ground. Fost dismounted and approached, sword in hand. The bird beat its wings and screamed at him. He jumped back, then looked closer at the prostrate form of the Sky Guardswoman and sheathed his sword.
The bird let him near the rider. The osprey-feathered shaft of an Estil arrow jutted out just below her collarbone. A trail of blood ran from a corner of the full-lipped mouth.
'I tried,' she told Fost, gazing up at him from beneath sagging eyelids. 'I… tried.' 'You did well.' There seemed little else he could say.
She coughed pink foam, sighed raggedly, seemed to shrink. Fost thumbed her eyelids closed. The eagle raised its head and uttered a single, lonely cry.
Fost straightened, casting his eyes warily up and down the street. He heard the clamor of voices and arms off to his right, toward the center of town. But under the fog which formed a few feet above his head the streets of Kara-Est were deserted. He drew a deep breath, a decision made. 'Jennas. We've found our way into the City.'
The hetwoman looked from him to the eagle, standing with its fierce head wreathed in mist. Tost took a step toward the bird. It opened its beak in challenge. Jennas brandished her sword.
'Ho, bird, here!' she shouted. Grutz and Chubchuk growled and lumbered about menacingly. The bird turned its head to glower at them, allowing Fost to vault into the saddle. The bird cried in fury.
'Settle down, bird, there's nothing to fear. I mean you no harm. Damn!' The last word popped out as the feathered head swiveled to slash at his leg with a black beak. Fost drew his sword and pressed the tip to the side of the bird's neck.
'I mean you no harm,' he said, enunciating each word carefully. The eagles were intelligent and understood manspeech even though they couldn't speak it. 'I must travel to the Sky City. If you try to hurt me, I'll defend myself.' The head bobbed. Fost hoped that meant assent. 'Come on aboard,' he called out to Jennas.