Off the ledge and forward, sword out. Those great, black-taloned arms swung up to claw at him but succeeded only in coming up under one of his boots and lofting him the extra bit he needed, not only to land on the beast's massive back just behind the eyes, but to turn in midair, so he came down facing rhe ledge and his fellow Knights.
Florin drove his sword sideways into the angle of the jaws. As he'd expected, the monster bit down hard on it, making it into a rock-solid handle for the next breath or two. Which was quite long enough for the ranger to use his other hand to snatch out a belt dagger and bury it hilt-deep in one of the beast's eyes.
It stiffened, then roared in pain and threw up its arms, rising out of its crouch. By then, Florin had yanked his dagger messily free of one eyesocket and plunged the steel into the next one.
The monster roared and reached up with one arm to claw him forward over its head and down into its waiting jaws-and Islif's sword slashed across its talons, severing or blunting them all and causing it to squall in astonished pain. It shook that hand wildly, seeking to banish the pain, which was more than long enough for the ranger riding it to plunge his dagger into the third eye on that side of the monster's head.
It stiffened again, then spasmed, wriggling wildly and uncontrollably beneath him. Florin clung to blade and dagger, fighting just to stay on its back-as Islif snarled to Semoor, "The big skillet, on edge, between its jaws!"
The priest blinked at her, then tore apart his pack and produced the pan. Islif snatched it, drove it in between those black teeth- and then lunged so deeply that her armored shoulder fetched up beside the skillet with a clang. Which meant her sword was arm-deep in the beast's maw but angled up into its massive shoulders and spine, piercing and now slicing and slashing viciously.
The monster reeled, flung up its arms to tear the swordswoman apart-and Doust and Semoor launched themselves from the ledge, maces smashing down on the monster's hands with all their weight backing the blows.
The monster staggered back, arms flailing, the rumbling now a bellow of raw agony, and Florin dared to dtive his fingers into one gore-weeping eyesocket to gain a handhold to cling to. He let go his swotd and used that hand to thrust the dagger into the first of the three eyes on the other side of the head.
The massive shoulders under Florin were shaking and spasming helplessly now, the arms flailing around in a wild thrashing.
"Get clear!" Pennae cried from above. "Flor, get away from it!"
Florin slashed open another eye, even as he kicked hard against the thing's back, and thrust himself free, toppling back into the night.
The thing tried to turn, to follow him and pounce, but it was lurching, its muscles rippling and shuddering uncontrollably. It had managed only a half-turn by the time Islif and the two priests had clawed themselves well apart from where it thrashed on the scree slope-and a long, wedge-shaped slab of rock came thundering down out of the night to smash the beast flat.
Broken and bewildered, all it could still do was scream. It did that, feebly, then fell silent and leaked gore out from under the now-shattered stone covering it.
"Well, now," Pennae's voice floated down to her fellow Knights, surprisingly calm and quiet. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Any other beasts you need taken care of?"
"Whoever sent this one?" Semoor said. "Four coins to get twelve that this hulk was brought or sent here to stand against us."
No one accepted his wager.
Which one of them had the Pendant? As he'd expected, his spell had found nothing, which meant he had to get closer to either spot it by chance-if one of them was foolish enough to wear it openly-or spell-see it at close range.
Drathar skulked closer, wincing as the render's rumblings rose into sharp shrieks. The night was dark, the Knights apparently had no lanterns lit.
Well, that just might seal their doom. They couldn't" Haaaa!" That deep, hoarse, triumphant roar out of the night had sounded right behind him!
Drathar hurled himself forward, right through a viciously sharp thornbush that was thankfully half-dead, and so collapsed with a crackle. Who-?
A morningstar crashed down right beside him, flaring momentarily into ruby radiance as it struck his feeble shielding spell.
Drathar rolled, becoming aware of a large, looming figure, a choking stink of unwashed, filthy flesh, and two tusked heads. A second morningstar whistled past his head to thud heavily into a treetrunk and rebound.
Drathar scrambled to his feet then ducked away, seeking to put several trees between himself and this… ettin?
Aye, it was a two-headed giant, and it was striding angrily around the trees, looking nothing like the stumbling dunderheads most bardic tales insisted ettin were. It looked to have just awakened, probably roused by the render's screams, and its every stride was faster and more purposeful as it rose to full alertness.
Which meant he had to act right now-or never.
Drathar planted his feet despite the wildly rising urge to flee, stared at the ettin lurching menacingly nearer, and carefully cast his last coercion spell. Whatever they'd managed to do to the gray render, the Knights of Myth Drannor had to be wounded and weary.
Which meant, against an ettin, they hadn't a chance. ***** "What was that magic?"
Boarblade was in no mood for Klarn's truculent questions just now. "Something the same man who contacted each of you gave me, to use once we were together, riding on an open road. I don't know its name. You saw what it did to the horses, and it's done now. So leave them-they're too exhausted to stray, and the hargaunt can smell them well enough to guide us back to them, aftet. Come!"
"Come where?"
"Into the woods, toward all that shrieking. Before we're too late. You to the fore with me. Glays, rearguard. All the shrieking may bring other things hunting. Thorm and Darratur, keep blades sheathed for now. I want none of us running onto each other's steel in the dark. Quick and quier, quick and quiet."
"To do what, exactly?"
Glays was always calm and the only one Boarblade judged competent to obey orders and avoid utter dundetheadedness. So he answered the man.
"To go and see if this racket is linked to the Knights we're looking for. It sounds like a forest beast might just have done our work for us-and if it has we need to get to the bodies before it mauls their faces too badly and to find that Pendant before it's down some monster's gullet. If it hasn't, but the Knights are sore wounded or worn out, we watch and choose our best moment to rush them. They've got a wizard and some priests, remember? No better time and place to face down spells than the dark, in a thick forest, where they can't see who they're hurling magic at. If, that is, they've got any magic left!"
That set Klarn, Thorm, and Darratur all to nodding and chuckling. Boarblade used his drawn sword to wave Klarn forward, gave them all a gtin, then turned away before they could see it fall right off his chin. Idiots.
In the dootway the Royal Magician of Cormyr came to an abrupt halt and blinked.
Sage Royal Alaphondar looked up from his uncomfortable, high-backed chair and sighed. There were more subtle ways of making it clear you were surprised-and disapprovingly so-to see someone in attendance at a secret meeting in the Queen's Retiring Room, but then Vangerdahast seldom saw any need to be all that subtle.
King Azoun and Queen Filfaeril were there, of course, crowns off on the table before them and arms around each other like lovers, as a clear signal that royal protocol was suspended for the nonce. Laspeera of the Wizards of War sat near them on a maid's ready chair.
The two whose presence seemed to discomfit Vangey were the War Wizard Lorbryn Deltalon and the man sitting quietly next to him in drab and well-worn trail leathers on the couch. It was the Harper. Dalonder Ree, and he was giving the simmering wizard in the doorway a knowing smile and the words, "I'm sorry to announce that Dove can't be with us. She's off on one of her jaunts. Harper work."