The column renewed its steady crawl toward the caverns. According to Lochivan, the late Rendel’s notes had indicated that his brother had titled the mountain Kivan Grath. That had brought a harsh laugh from Faunon, who understood the meaning of the name.
“Kivan Grath,” he had announced in grandiose tones. “‘The Seeker of Gods’! How very, terribly true!”
Asked to explain, the captive elf returned to his tale of ancient sorcery and some dark thing now lurking in the depths of the underground caverns perfo-rating the mountain.
The selfsame mountain had been in sight for the past few days, looming over even its taller neighbors by quite some height, but now it was nearly the only thing they could see before them. Regardless of whatever else lay in sight, Kivan Grath overwhelmed the scene. It was still hours away, but a casual glance might lead one to believe that no more than a single hour would be needed to reach it. The leviathan’s size wreaked havoc on perspective. Everyone had trouble believing it could be so tall; they were more willing to believe that it must be closer than the patriarch had estimated.
A second wave of random magical force washed over the riders, but this time they were at least prepared for its coming if not its intensity. It was terrible enough that the land here radiated a power of its own; the forces unleashed by both the Seekers and Darkhorse added a new dimension of fear. So far, the only effect was a twisting, churning sensation that touched every spellcaster-and that included most of those assembled for the expedition. The longer they were forced to endure it, the more chance it might affect them in other, more horrifying ways. No one had forgotten Ivor.
“We should turn back!” Sharissa argued as the second wave passed.
No one but Faunon paid heed to her words, and he was not in any condition to follow through on her suggestion. The Lord Tezerenee acknowledged her comments, but replied, “It will be over soon. The first expedition found only a few scattered flocks.”
She was not satisfied with his response. “What if they hid the bulk of their strength for when you returned with greater numbers? How much better to snare many rather than a few! We could be attacked from all sides at any time!”
To her surprise, the patriarch nodded. “I expect to be attacked-and at any moment!”
“But… you can’t be serious… Darkhorse is…”
“He is,” Faunon said, the elf shocked nearly as much as Sharissa was. “Look at him. He has ridden us into the tearing beak of the bird folk… and performed the deed willingly!”
Turning away from the two stunned captives, Barakas laughed. The sorceress scanned the high ground on either side of them. Some of the Tezerenee had airdrakes, but most had only the swift but ground-locked variety. Granted the Vraad had massive sorceries at their beck and call, much of it the vile but deadly Nimthian sort, but that might end up bringing death to them just as readily as the medallions of the Seekers. As with their former home, this world did not deal well with the old sorcery. The greater the spell, the worse the backlash.
It was interesting-and worrisome, Sharissa had to admit-to see many of the armored figures around her turning to one another with apprehension. Had the patriarch neglected to inform his people that he knew they would be riding into a trap? Had they been led to believe that Darkhorse would clear much of the danger away?
Beside his father, Reegan suddenly straightened and pointed at something in the distance. It was Lochivan and the scouts… but were there fewer of them than there had been before?
“It’s about to start,” Barakas commented needlessly. He looked around in expectation.
The sky darkened as manlike forms filled the air above them.
“To your duties!” Reegan shouted. Tezerenee were already raising their bows or some other weapon. If it came to a physical assault, those with swords and lances would defend against any attackers who tried to kill the archers while they reloaded. Several Tezerenee were grouping together in what was obviously the beginnings of a major spell. Others were attempting personal conjurations. Barakas sat on his drake and waited. Sharissa wondered at his sanity, but forgot him when she realized Faunon was completely defenseless. A well-placed rock would put an end to him.
The avians had the advantage. They controlled the sky and the high ground around the column. They knew the land. While there was room for the drakes to maneuver, it was all open to the Seekers.
She wondered why the Seekers did not just bury the entire Tezerenee expedition under tons of rock. Perhaps they no longer had that ability, considering the numbers who had perished because of some prior spell.
“Why does he not summon the demon back?” Faunon wanted to know. “We would stand a better chance!”
“I don’t know!”
A warrior behind them reached for his throat and gasped. That was all. He fell from his steed and was lost under the milling forms of the drakes.
Archers were already firing. Two Seekers plummeted to the ground, already dead, but most of the others had moved out of range.
Sharissa’s mind was tugged in all directions as the two sides warred on the sorcerous plane. Men screamed around her, but she could not afford to aid them. Instead, she pulled Faunon to her and cast her best defensive spells.
“You should be fighting them,” Faunon counseled. “The avians will not ignore us for long merely because we behave. They will save us for when the true threats have been eliminated.”
A huge form fell in front of them, sending the drakes into a fearful rage. The sorceress was forced to contend with both beasts, but she still managed to bring them under control. The missile proved to be the corpse of one of the bird folk. It had hit the ground with such intensity that much of it was no longer recognizable. Whether sorcery or arrow had killed the Seeker was a moot point, but it raised another danger. With the avians directly above the column, it was possible that even in death a Seeker might take a foe with him. Sharissa craned her neck and gazed into the heavens. It seemed to her that the greatest concentration of Seekers was over their present location.
Lowering her head, the exasperated sorceress again saw Barakas sitting calm amidst chaos. He was doing little more than surveying the scene and shouting out the occasional order. He was waiting for something.
His eyes met hers and she was certain that he smiled, although the helm, of course, made it difficult to be certain. As if responding to her anger and confusion, the patriarch pointed into the sky behind her. Sharissa spun around on her saddle, fearing that even more Seekers were winging their way toward the doomed column, cutting them off from any retreat.
There was indeed a mass of winged terrors racing toward the battle, but they were not Seekers.
They were Tezerenee. Not one band, but two. They converged from the east and west, coming together just as they reached the mountains. While their numbers were not as great as those of the avian attackers, they had height and mass to their advantage. They also had the confusion of battle to count upon. Several of the Seekers noted them, but that knowledge did them little good. Engaged in combat, both magical and physical, with the column, they could not break away without opening themselves up to a rain of death from below.
Many tried just that, regardless of the risk. Seeker magic was evidently more limited, at least as far as this particular group was concerned. Those who turned to flee proved inviting targets for the archers, who brought down many before the spellcasters could take their own turn. A few Tezerenee still fell; not all of the avians were abandoning the struggle. The bird people seemed to radiate a quiet desperation as they fought the humans, as if they knew that they were fighting to preserve what was already lost to them. Yet as their arrogance and miscalculations had evidently unleashed some horrifying spell back upon their own-as Faunon and the petrified corpses had suggested to her-so now did those same faults thrust the Seekers into a trap from which there was little hope of escape.