Tuloos looked around at the carnage that was Corning, the rubble and the dead and dying. But more so, the mayor let his gaze drift out over the eastern gate, down the road to the river.
The empty road to the river.
He knew that the sacrifices made this day in Corning had bought those helpless, fleeing Calvans some precious time. If only he and his men could hold out a little longer.
If only…
The talon army calmed suddenly and backed away from the walls, those before the western gate parting wide to reveal a gaunt and robed figure.
“Angfagdul,” Meriwindle muttered grimly, using the enchantish name for the Black Warlock. He had seen the likes of Morgan Thalasi before.
“Surrender your town!” the Black Warlock demanded in a voice dripping with a power not of this earth. “Surrender now and I will let you live!”
Mayor Tuloos understood that doom had come, knew that all hope was gone. But he knew, too, the lie that he now faced. The Black Warlock would keep no prisoners other than slaves to draw his carts until they dropped dead in their tracks from hunger and exhaustion. All around him, his weary men leaned on their weapons, their will for this fight fading with the last remnants of hope. To a man, they looked to Tuloos for guidance.
“I’ll not make it easy for him,” the mayor whispered to Meriwindle.
“Send him a message,” Meriwindle replied, and he handed Tuloos a bow.
Smiling, the mayor notched an arrow and took a bead on the Black Warlock. Realizing that he could not hope to take out an enemy so powerful with such a simple attack, he veered his aim away from Thalasi and let the arrow fly. It thudded into the chest of the talon nearest Thalasi, and the beast dropped dead to the ground.
From every wall, from the courtyard below, the remaining people of Corning sent a final cheer into the air.
Thalasi trembled in rage. He hadn’t wanted to use his power-not yet. But such arrogance could not go unpunished, and his army could not afford to get bogged down at the gates of this city. He threw his arms up into the air and fell into that magical plane, gathering, demanding power.
Then Thalasi hurled his collected force at the battered town.
The western gates exploded into a million burning splinters. Now it was the talons’ turn to hoot and cheer, as they poured through the wide breach.
Meriwindle leaped down from his perch to meet them head-on.
Thus did Meriwindle die.
And thus did the town of Corning die.
In the frenzy of a few moments, the remaining talons on the south side of Rhiannon’s gorge were cut down, and Belexus led the charge in pursuit of the young woman. She had slowed, pacing herself to keep even with the weary lizard-riding talons across the chasm.
Still, when Belexus caught up to her, he was alarmed to look upon her pale and drained face, for her magical efforts had indeed exacted a heavy toll.
“Go,” Rhiannon told him. “I will keep this group from the road.”
Across the splitting earth, only two dozen yards away, more than a thousand talons rushed along, spitting curses at the wicked sorceress that kept them from their prey and from their goal in the south.
“Ye mean to cut the earth all the way to the river?” Belexus called to Rhiannon. “A day o’ riding and more that’ll be.”
Rhiannon knew the grim truth of his words. Already she felt her power beginning to wane. “Follow me, then!” she cried, formulating a desperate plan. “All of ye!” The cavalry fell in stride behind Belexus and Rhiannon as she picked up the pace again, easily outdistancing the talons across the way. And when she had gained enough ground ahead of the leaders of the invading army, she cut sharply to the north, turning the break of the chasm with her.
The change in direction, the breaking of momentum, sapped the last of the young woman’s strength. Holding on as tightly as she could, she spurred her mount back around to the west, encircling the terrified talons.
Belexus and the others understood her motives. Though few of the talons were surprised enough to tumble into the new angle of the gorge, the whole of their force had been suddenly stopped and thrown into disarray. Belexus charged ahead of Rhiannon, leading his soldiers head-on into the confused ranks.
Exhausted beyond its mortal limits, the black and white mare stumbled and went down. Rhiannon, barely able to remain conscious, crawled over to the poor beast and wept, caught in a tumult of confusion and revulsion. What awful power had she aroused? It had fully possessed her in a fury that she could not begin to comprehend, much less control. Was it her destiny, then, to rain destruction upon the earth, and upon the beasts of the earth, innocent and evil alike? She stroked the trembling flanks of the horse and spoke softly into its ear as it passed from life.
And then Rhiannon, fainting from exhaustion, knew no more.
Belexus did not miss the fall of his friend, and the sight of it spurred him on to new heights of rage, stole the weariness from his muscular arms. He tore into the talon ranks, hacking down two creatures at a time.
And then a new sight came over the battlefield, a sight that inflicted equal heights of rage in Belexus’ soldiers. Rising over the western plain came yet another pillar of black smoke.
Corning was burning.
They drove the talons into the gorge and trampled those who could not get out of their path. The hunter became the hunted as the talon forces were split in half, and many of the creatures broke from the back ranks to flee into the empty northland.
For a full hour they fought, men and talons with nothing left to lose. Again and again Belexus chopped down a foe, only to find another ready to take its place. But whenever weariness began to slow the ranger’s fell blade, he only had to look back beyond the edge of the fighting to the still forms of Rhiannon and her horse.
And for the men of Corning there remained the constant reminder of the billowing cloud on the western horizon. One soldier went down under the pull of three talons, and when he fell, five of the beasts leaped upon him for the kill. But it was the soldier that finally climbed out of that tangle, mortally wounded a dozen times but refusing to stop fighting, refusing to lie down and die, until the talon force had been beaten back.
How many talons died and how many managed to flee to the north in that savage battle would never be tallied, but of Belexus’ force of one thousand, only two hundred remained, and the ranger was convinced that five talons had died for every man.
Chapter 8
Baerendel Nightmare
“CORNING IS BURNING!” Lennard cried.
Bryan and the others rushed over the final rise on the mountain spur, excited but not too concerned. A hearth out of control, perhaps, and nothing that the townsfolk couldn’t handle.
But as the group, one by one, crested the lip of the stone, their excitement washed away on a wave of dread, for the rising column was too great for any hearth fire.
Bryan scanned the plain to the east of the town, searching for some explanation. Another cloud, this one of dust, rose in the north, as if a long line of horses, wagons, and boots stirred the dirt of a road.
The awful truth became clear to all of them then, and Bryan spoke the word aloud. “War.”
“We must get home!” Lennard cried when he had found his breath, but then another call rang out.
“Talons!” shouted Tinothy, the one member of the band who had not yet seen the smoke from Corning. “Talons in the mountains.” The boy, at fourteen years the youngest of the band, caught up to them, eyes widening as he beheld the disaster of his homeland.
“Where?” Bryan pressed him.
The cloud of smoke held Tinothy entranced.