Rodario saw the Zhadar attacking the monsters from the rear. The chimerae had no idea what was happening to them. They didn’t have a chance. Only Ireheart had been too proud to be one of a crowd. He had stormed all the way to the front of the throng to get first choice of the enemy. It had been the saving of Rodario.
“Slin’s up there!” he called, pointing to the loft. “He’s not alone.”
“He’ll be all right,” said Ireheart, hurrying to get to one of the last of the hybrids before a Zhadar did.
“They are huge beasts up there fighting him. Bigger than all these,” Rodario shouted.
Boindil turned and looked toward the hayloft above the gate. “Then I’ll go and check. Fourthlings aren’t known for their stamina in battle.” He grinned and made his way over, felling a lynx-chimera as he went which Barskalin had had his eye on. “Ha! I got there first!”
Rodario was impressed by the speed and precision with which the Invisibles had moved in. The battle in the courtyard was over before he knew it. Surrounded by the dead bodies of that intimidating horde of rampaging monsters, he was struck also by how quiet everything suddenly was.
Tungdil had taken no part in the general slaughter. He was talking to Mallenia, who was still supporting Coira. Balyndar stood guard over Franek.
“My queen!” Rodario hurried over to the young woman. She looked exhausted.
Lifting her eyes hesitantly, she instinctively hugged her right arm closer to her body. “I’m all right. The famulus tried but he couldn’t kill me.”
“Franek didn’t warn us until it was too late. Maybe he forgot on purpose.” He looked at the famulus, then at Tungdil. “I’d advise you to have a word or two with him. He seemed more eager to talk when you were being persuasive. Maybe his memory has improved a bit.”
A loud dwarf-laugh rang out from up in the hayloft, then came the sound of steel on flesh. And then a scream.
“What’s happening?” Tungdil looked at the hatch.
“I sent Boindil to do some tidying up,” Rodario explained. “I think Slin was having trouble and it seems to be giving your friend a great deal of pleasure to help him out.”
They heard Ireheart laughing again, and then angry voices, curses and noise of the crow’s beak smashing home.
Balyndar gave a command to the Zhadar, but Tungdil interrupted with a gesture. “No, let him do it on his own. Why shouldn’t he have a bit of fun?” He stomped over to Lot-Ionan’s former pupil.
Rodario asked Mallenia to leave him and the maga alone for a few moments. After a swift exchange of glances with the queen, the Ido girl followed Tungdil.
Coira looked up shyly, “Did you…?”
“No, I haven’t told anyone what I saw. And I shan’t.” Rodario took her left hand. “Back there at the pond you misunderstood me.”
“What was there to misunderstand?” she flashed, hurt. “You said, How ghastly!” Her anger vanished and her shoulders drooped. “But you were right. Let me explain what you saw.”
“But first I want you to know what I was really trying to say: ‘What a ghastly injury, Coira.’ That’s what I was saying.”
“Is that all?” She sought his eyes.
“That’s all. You are far too beautiful and kind and sweet-natured for anyone to say anything unpleasant about. I think you know what feelings I have for you.” Rodario smiled at her and took her hand in his. “Will you tell me about it now?”
A muffled cry rang out and a chimera came flying through the hayloft hatch; he landed directly at the feet of two Zhadar, with blood spurting from the many injuries to his chest. For a split second Ireheart was visible in the opening, long enough for a wave and for them to know he was unharmed. Then he raised his weapon and leaped off to the right with a war cry.
“He lives only to fight,” was Coira’s comment.
“It’s battle-frenzy. Hot blood. They always used to say that about him-and rightly so,” the actor said with a grin. Crashes and thumps echoed down from the hayloft. “He’s having the time of his life, egging them on.”
The maga slipped her hand under his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for keeping silent, and for not despising me on account of my arm.” It seemed to be difficult for her to speak about the disfiguring blemish. “It happened while I was doing magic once. A spell exploded in my hand and damaged it badly. You would not understand the technicalities because you are not a magus, but take my word for it: Some parts of the magic spell remain lodged in my flesh. That’s why I can’t heal the wound permanently; it can only be hidden if I’ve enough magic power in me to suppress it. The less power I’m left with, the more the injury opens up and festers. A long-lasting spell contains the sensitive area inside a kind of glass covering. That’s what you saw. No one notices; I always wear gloves.”
Rodario felt enormous sympathy for the young woman. “And what happens when your magic runs out completely?”
“My arm will be destroyed.” Coira gave a brave smile. “I shall lose it.”
“From the state of your arm I can guess you have very little magic left. Am I right?” He checked how close the dwarves were standing, to see if they would have been able to overhear.
A second chimera came flying through the loft opening, landing next to the first. Its skull had been smashed and there was a gash on the right-hand side of its head.
“One more to go!” they heard Ireheart crowing. “One more, then I’m done! Huzzah! They’re a whole lot tougher than orcs!”
The Zhadar laughed.
Coira took a deep breath. “It’s true. That’s why I had set my hopes on the source that was supposed to be in the Red Mountains.”
Rodario felt he must have turned pale. “So are you in any way capable of facing Lot-Ionan?”
“Now I’ve done it!” They all heard Boindil’s voice, as a third defeated chimera plunged to the ground from the hayloft. The victorious dwarf appeared, supporting Slin and wearing a grin wider than his own face. “That was just my type of battle,” he exulted. “Decisive victory, killing marauding beasts, saving a comrade’s life-what more could I want?” He nudged Slin, who moaned in response. “Ho fourthling, show your teeth and smile for us! You’re still alive! These beasts aren’t!” he said, indicating the three slaughtered tentacle-creatures. He brought the dwarf over to the fire and set him down next to Balyndar and Franek. “I could murder a whole barrel of dwarf-beer.” He gave a deep sigh.
Rodario applauded and put on a cheerful face. Then he turned back to Coira. “Tell me, honestly: Can you defeat Lot-Ionan? Or not?”
XXIII
The Outer Lands,
The Black Abyss,
Fortress Evildam,
Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle
Goda leaped up, awakened from deepest sleep. Alarm trumpets?
The door burst open and Boendalin called her to come out onto the battlements. “The barrier! It’s gone! The beasts are trying to get through the North Gate!”
The maga sprang out of bed, throwing her robe over her night attire; she slipped her boots on and followed her son. It must still be the middle of the night-it felt, at least, as though she had only just dropped off. She grabbed her coat and the reticule that contained the last four splinters of diamond.
She had not vouchsafed to a soul the current state of the magic defenses-not even to her children.
Their recent sortie was deemed a victory despite the heavy losses and they had celebrated in order to honor the sacrifice of the fallen warriors. The monsters of the Black Abyss were beginning to rebuild their war machinery, it was true, but they were working more slowly this time. They seemed exhausted. And that had been enough to give the defenders a ray of hope.