Slin and Balyndar slid down the flag to arrive behind Ireheart. They were breathless from the effort as the three of them pursued the monster.
The kordrion encountered no resistance. The alfar had never reckoned with a creature like this breaking into their city. The dwarves passed bitten-off limbs and pools of blood or smashed and mutilated bodies; these were the simple inhabitants of the town, as could be seen by the clothing they had worn. They had neither weapons nor armor at their disposal.
“It’s gone off to the right!” called Balyndar. “Over there in the wide passage.”
“I can see for myself,” growled Ireheart, who had grown tired of all this chasing about. He wanted a proper fight and was not interested in completing an endurance test.
They rounded the corner and were confronted with a broad gap in the walls, forming a path through to the gate they had entered by.
And that was where the kordrion was heading, still crouching low against the ground. Its back scraped some of the hanging gardens, making them sway and come away from their anchorages so that soil and plants rained down. Its claws hurled any alfar aside who had not sought cover; some of them the creature gobbled up or chewed to get at their blood, spitting out the remnants.
“Ho!” shouted Ireheart, hurrying onwards as fast as his legs could carry him. “Ho! You with the ugly face! Stand still for a change!”
“What’s it want at the gate?” Balyndar did not seem so bothered by all the running. “So it’s not you it’s trying to follow, Doubleblade.”
Slin dropped behind. “Don’t wait for me,” he panted. “I’ll catch up. This armor is so heavy…”
Ireheart grabbed him by his forearm protectors. “You are a child of the Smith! Make a bit of an effort; you need to win your share in the glory of killing the kordrion. When will a fourthling ever get a chance like this again?” Secretly he was wondering where on earth Tungdil and Aiphaton had got to.
He stepped over the debris and piles of sand from the hanging gardens; they kept having to make detours round broken lumps of masonry that had fallen from the facade. The vibrations caused by the kordrion’s progress, together with the violent swinging of its powerful tail, were destroying Phoseon.
“It’s… got… to the… gate.” Slin could hardly speak, he was so out of breath. They were a hundred paces behind their quarry. “I’m… done for.” He stopped and rested his crossbow on a tree trunk. “I’ll cover you… from here.”
Ireheart and Balyndar hurried on. “Have you got a plan?” asked the fifthling. “Yes. To kill it,” replied Ireheart. “The simplest plans are always the best ones.”
They reached the open square in front of the gate.
The kordrion turned and twisted as if possessed, crouching down and arching its back and seizing the Black Squadron’s ponies. The animals neighed loudly in terror and bolted, running chaotically about, but they could not escape the predator’s claws. A slaughter ensued and there was an overwhelming stink of fresh blood, with red smears and spatters on the walls. The sandy floor was soaked.
The dwarves had withdrawn to hide in the arcades and were bombarding the monster from under cover. A few of the alfar soldiers were helping out, loosing their arrows or casting their lances or spears from the upper galleries.
“So it doesn’t like ponies?” Ireheart was surprised. “Is that why it’s not bothering with the murderer of its own young?”
Balyndar had been looking around and had found a packhorse that was attracting the kordrion’s attention. “Look over there. It’s not attacking that one.”
“Maybe it likes horses?” Ireheart attempted a joke, but grew serious. “I know what you mean. That’s the one Tirigon sent with us. Did the alf get our provisions confused with kordrion feed? Let’s have a look and see what’s really in there.” Balyndar followed him.
In the meantime three of the firing towers on the roof had rolled forward to the edge. The barrage was now becoming dangerous for the mighty beast; more and more alfar were in the courtyard and soon the kordrion was losing blood from countless wounds. It gave a maddened scream, thrashing with its tail and causing untold damage.
But it’s not trying to escape, although it must know that every minute spent here brings it closer to death. Ireheart was quite near to it now.
One of the talons touched the packhorse, but very cautiously.
Ireheart had caught up. With a vicious swipe of the crow’s beak he attacked the long investigating finger. “That stays here!!” he yelled furiously, yanking the handle of his weapon. With a loud tearing sound the blade ripped through the pale gray skin. “That’s our horse!”
Balyndar leaped in, smashing his morning star down onto the claw so that blood gushed out.
With a screech the kordrion pushed forward and tried to spread its wings, but the surrounding walls made this impossible. However, the very attempt caused further destruction.
“Look out!” Ireheart pulled Balyndar aside as a large lump of heavy plasterwork threatened to fall straight on top of him. “Even the best of helmets won’t save you from that kind of thing.”
The kordrion snapped at them and the dwarves ducked to avoid its ugly mouth.
Ireheart used the opportunity to strike one of its lower eyes. The eye immediately burst open and the creature bellowed with pain.
The spike had buried itself in a bone. Ireheart did not release his hold on the weapon and was dragged upwards as the creature raised its head. The swift movement made him giddy and drove the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping like a landed carp-but he didn’t let go. “I won’t be shaken off!” he called. “Is that all you can do? A bit further, you hideous freak! You won’t scare me! I can take the altitude!”
Then an arrow got him in the left foot.
“Cursed black-eyes!” he yelled. “Can’t you aim straight like your northern relatives?” His arms grew heavy and his own weight, together with that of the armor, dragged at him. But to let go would be instant death.
Then he saw Aiphaton leap out of a window seven floors up above the kordrion’s back, his spear tip targeting the creature’s neck.
With that thing? Ireheart could not believe it. “Oh, Vraccas! He’s got a little needle! He’s going to prick it with a little needle!”
The monster ducked and shook its head. The crow’s beak spike came loose and the dwarf flew off to the right through the air like a missile four paces above the ground, landing in a heap of butchered ponies, whose steaming intestines cushioned his fall.
He struggled up in a rage, broke off the arrow under the sole of his foot and stood. “Now you’ve really made me mad!” The red mask of battle-fury was setting in. Only the kordrion was unmoved. “I’ll give you such a battering-I’ll have you in pieces!”
Aiphaton had leaped onto the creature’s back and was stabbing away through the spinal column, finding the spaces between the huge vertebrae.
The kordrion arched up with a screech-and Tungdil jumped down onto it from one of the lower galleries, ramming Bloodthirster into a different place on the backbone, paralyzing the creature’s right leg. It fell to its knees and lurched against the east facade, breaking the wall down. The building above it collapsed, covering the kordrion with a hail of heavy masonry.
Aiphaton and Tungdil had taken refuge just in time and were waiting on a balcony on the western side.
But the beast was nowhere near the end of its strength.
Thrashing its tail it destroyed the gate and stonework above, killing dozens of alfar, who fell with the collapsing wall, to be crushed by falling chunks of masonry, while others were hit by the tail and hurled through the air to fall, broken, to the ground.