Without warning, Idaria grabbed the grand lord’s hand and thrust something into it. “Master! Take this!”
Golgren eyed the small object-a sinister-looking ring-then stared at the elf. She stared back at the ogre leader with an expression that was mixed with so many emotions that Sir Stefan, watching, couldn’t understand what was transpiring.
The slave murmured in Golgren’s ear. “Tyranos! He thought it important to give this to you! It has … much ancient power.”
The grand lord put the signet into a pouch and, glancing again at the elf slave, pointed back to Garantha. Idaria firmly shook her head, but Golgren summoned a mounted warrior.
“Take this one back to the palace!” Golgren ordered.
Perhaps as eager to be away from the battle as he was to obey his lord, the warrior snagged the reins of the slave’s horse and dragged her off. Idaria glanced over her shoulder at the ogre leader, then spared a quick look at Stefan.
Yet the knight agreed with Golgren; the elf slave should be taken away from the battle scene. He rode up to join the grand lord. Golgren was staring at the undead enemy, coming closer and closer.
“What are your orders?” Stefan asked.
Golgren laughed harshly. “Fight, of course.”
The grand lord signaled the trumpeter. The horn wailed one last time, sounding both defiant and mournful.
And as the sound washed over his warriors, Golgren let out a bestial war cry that was joined by his army and rode forward.
The ogre army surged toward the undead. On both flanks and in the very center, a gap opened. Through those gaps streamed the mounted forces, including Golgren and Stefan at the lead. Golgren roared louder as he swept past his front lines. Khleeg and others took up his exultant cry, and even Stefan joined in.
The riders-the foot soldiers on their heels-smashed into the enemy.
Stefan swung at the first skeleton within range, throwing his full strength into a blow against its skull. The well-crafted Solamnic blade easily severed the head from the neck and for good measure the knight kicked the creature hard in the rib cage. The skeletal figure tumbled over into pieces.
Coming upon a second, he repeated the attack with equal fervor and success. The f’hanos were clumsy fighters at best. As he headed toward a third foe, Stefan cried out, “For honor and victory! For honor and-”
Something snagged him by his ankle. Looking down, he saw that the second one of his fleshless opponents had already half reconstructed itself. Even lacking its head, the horrifying thing clutched at him, almost dragging the human from his mount. Worse, joining the effort was Stefan’s first victim, the skeleton he had beheaded that was again completely whole.
Stefan managed to batter away the one holding onto him, but then the other one seized his leg. The strength of the monsters was incredible; it was all the Solamnic could do to keep in the saddle.
But others were not so successful. Beyond Stefan, two other riders were dragged down. The two vanished under a torrent of grasping, clawlike hands. Even the mounts were not spared, the f’hanos dragging them to the ground with equal zeal.
Facing such a chilling fate, Stefan struck out harder and harder. He managed to free his leg, but then pale bony fingers seized his mount by the legs, the tail, and the torso. The frantic animal kicked, shattering more than one of the skeleton figures, yet not only were there too many all around him, but every one that was temporarily broken soon resurrected itself.
With a shriek, the knight’s mount at last fell on its side. Stefan tumbled to the ground. He managed to roll into a fighting position just as another of the undead reached for him.
If not for the fact that many of the f’hanos were unarmed save for rocks they clutched in their grasping fingers, Stefan would have died on the spot. However, another rider came from out of nowhere and smashed the f’hanos threatening him from behind.
Golgren, a thick sword gripped tight, grinned wildly at Stefan.
“My horse, Sir Stefan Rennert! It can carry two, yes?”
Beating away another f’hanos, the Solamnic leaped behind Golgren.
“They keep resurrecting!” the human shouted. “I’ve shattered several and they just instantly reform!”
“Yes!” was all Golgren replied. More and more f’hanos swarmed them, as if aware, despite their apparent lack of intelligence, that they had cornered the ogre leader.
“What magic keeps them animated?” the Solamnic cried as he fought wildly from his ungainly perch. “Is there none upon which you can call?”
The grand lord hissed then straightened. “There may be one chance! Sir Stefan Rennert! My Idaria has given me something I do not know how to use, but will try! Pray to your noble gods I succeed!”
Screams filled the air. A giant skeleton trod through the ogres, a fleshless mastark on a rampage. Stefan grimaced as it neared the pair. “Whatever you might be able to do, you’d best try quickly!”
“Guard me!” Golgren sheathed his sword then fumbled inside of a pouch. He pulled something free then held it up. Stefan caught a glimpse of something like a starburst.
“No!” shouted the ogre, sounding utterly disconcerted. “This is not what I sought for! How-”
The unsettlingly overcast sky made it seem almost like night on the battlefield. Yet some small bit of illumination struck the object in Golgren’s hand and caused it to glow like fire.
Cursing, the grand lord sought to plunge the item back into the pouch, but it was too late.
A mad light burst to life, blinding both riders and causing their horse to shriek and rear. Golgren let out another curse.
Then the furious, fiery light was all that existed.
XXI
Golgren’s hand burned as if it were utterly consumed by fire, and for a moment the ogre, unable to see, wondered whether he had lost his remaining hand. Yet he still felt the flex of his finger, so, despite the intense pain, he knew his arm was intact.
Of the piece left to him by the gargoyle, he knew nothing. Whether it had been destroyed or simply vanished, the grand lord did not care. He had instead sought the object Idaria had pressed into his hand, the ring with the odd signet. She had been most insistent that he take it and even had said something about Tyranos giving it to her to pass to him. Golgren had been certain because of that that it would help against the f’hanos.
How had the other thing found its way into his palm? His fingers had snared the ring. He felt its shape as he pulled it free of the pouch, and yet when he opened his hand, the accursed starburst was there. How had that happened?
“Come, come, Grand Lord,” a voice growled in his ear. A powerful set of hands dragged him to his feet. “You can’t lie around here all day!”
“Tyranos?” Golgren’s vision began to clear a little, but what he saw around him made no sense whatsoever.
The area for some distance resembled the aftermath of an inferno. The ground for several yards was baked black and entirely flattened. Pressed deep into the charred soil were the crusted remnants of several skeletons.
The imposing wizard turned him around, forcing him to look in all directions. Tyranos did not appear very pleased to see the ogre, but Golgren did not have to guess why. By coming there, the wizard likely had revealed himself to the Titans and whoever else might be observing the events through magic; that undoubtedly included whoever animated the macabre horde.
“I should’ve let you die,” Tyranos stated bluntly. “But we can’t have that yet, can we?”
Though Golgren was dazed, he was finally registering everything that was going on. His warriors were being decimated, just as he had feared and just as Dauroth, no doubt, desired. Thinking of the Titan made him instinctively grab at his chest for the vial.