The dust slowly settled, and the Turics and the Clannad worked to bring some order to the chaos. They were relieved to find there were not as many dead and wounded as they had feared. The first cry of the gryphon had alerted most of the tribesmen, who had managed to get out of the way of the stampede in time. In all only six bodies were placed together under a tree lor burial, and fourteen men had to be treated by the healers for abrasions, lacerations, and broken bones. A broad swath of the camp lay in trampled ruins, and it look several hours to sift through the debris for enough clothes, weapons, and battle gear to equip the men able to ride. The sorcerers helped as best they could to repair or transform the needed equipment, but it still used more time than they had to spare.
The Hunnuli soon calmed down the Turic horses and herded them back to the mouth of the valley. Eager warriors brought their mounts in to the picket lines and began to saddle them.
As order slowly returned, Mohadan calmed down. A cold, deliberating anger replaced his earlier temper, and he gathered his officers, Helmar, Hajira, and Sayyed for a meeting.
“There has been no word from the clans,” he said bluntly. “We must assume they cannot arrive today. Yet this is our last day to save the Shar-Ja. By sunset he will be dead, and Zukhara will sit on the throne. We are all that stands between that madman and the power of the crown. Do we attack today or wait until the other tribal leaders join us and the clans arrive?”
“Today,” Hajira said forcefully.
“Even with the reinforcements and the Clannad, we number barely eight hundred. The Gryphon has amassed closer to seven thousand, and he holds the fortifications.”
“We know that, Kirmaz-Ja,” said one of the officers. “But I would rather die attempting to save our rightful ruler than sit by and let that usurper murder him.”
Mohadan glanced at the lady chief. “Are you still willing to ride with us?”
Dirty, disheveled, and still dressed only in her light tunic, Helmar’s authority and self-confidence shone as clearly as any accoutrements of war. “Of course. Our objectives may be slightly different, but our destination is the same.”
“So be it,” the Kirmaz-Ja stated. “We ride within the hour.”
A sudden clamor made them all jump. “It’s coming back!” a guard bellowed just before several horns blared a warning. Everyone froze, their eyes searching the sky.
“There!” shouted Hajira.
Faster than an eagle, the gryphon had circled around to attack the camp from a different direction. She dove on the picket lines, screaming her ear-piercing cry. The horses erupted into a rearing, pitching panic.
“The horses!” shouted Mohadan, and his men shook themselves from their motionless fear and awe and raced to defend their animals. Archers armed their crossbows with the short, barbed quarrels that could pierce armor. They fired a deadly flight, but the gryphon swerved at the last minute and roared her derision at the puny missiles. She swooped again over the meadows and harried the horses into terrified flight. Only the Hunnuli ignored her attempts to panic them and stead-lastly tried to hold the frightened herds together.
The gryphon saw the white horses and understood what they were doing. She stooped low, her wings humming in the speed of her dive, and sank her claws into the back of one white Hunnuli. Before she could get it off the ground, three others and Afer charged her. I he black, larger than the others, bared his teeth and drove his hooves into the gryphon’s shoulder.
Hurt and furious, the gryphon let go of her prey. She crouched, ready to pounce on the black that had hurt her when another force hit her in the side and knocked her off her feet. Her baleful eyes sought the source of this new hurt, and she saw a man fire a blue blast of magic at her. Catlike, she twisted to her feet and sprang into the air. She was all too familiar with the effects of that powerful force. More bolts chased her into the bright sky.
Helmar and other Clannad magic-wielders joined Sayyed, and together they kept up a barrage of magic that forced the gryphon to circle higher and higher above the camp.
One rider, tears running down his face, ran to help his wounded Hunnuli.
Meanwhile, the Turics and the Hunnuli calmed the other horses enough to get them saddled and ready. The gryphon still circled the valley, but as long as the magic-wielders continued firing at her, she did not dare approach any closer.
“God of all,” Sayyed gasped when he paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “That creature is strong. The Trymmian force hardly rattles it.”
Helmar agreed. “It will be tough to shake it if it chases us all the way to Cangora.”
“The Turics will be ready soon,” Sayyed pointed out, eyeing her inadequate clothing. “You’d better prepare the Clannad.”
She graciously accepted the hint, kissed him on the cheek, and took half the warriors with her. They came back shortly, dressed in mail and fully armed, and sent the rest back to do the same. By the time the Turics were mounted and ready to ride, the Clannad had whistled in their Hunnuli and waited to join them.
Sayyed looked around for Hajira to say good-bye. Hajira had chosen to keep Tassilio in the camp, despite the boy’s pleas, and Mohadan had wholeheartedly agreed. A city consumed in desperate fighting was not a good place for the Shar-Ja’s last son. But Hajira came running out of their tent, hurriedly buckling on his sword and looking so mad he could have spit lightning bolts.
“He’s gone! And that mangy dog with him!” the guardsman yelled. He grabbed a saddle and threw it on the nearest spare mount with such force the frightened horse jumped out from under it, and Hajira had to calm it down before he could try again.
“What do you mean? Wasn’t he here earlier?” Sayyed demanded.
“I thought he was, but things were so crazy, I don’t know now. His bed is empty, those rags of his are gone, and he and that dog of his are nowhere in camp. I’ll wager my next ten years of life he has gone to Cangora.” Hajira’s voice was laden with both anger and frantic concern. He managed to settle the skittish horse and mount without too much difficulty. “If the Fel Azureth don’t kill him, I just might,” he growled and kicked his horse to join the others.
Flanked by the magic-wielders, the Kirmaz-Ja led his small army out of the valley. The gryphon, seeing them leave, dropped close to harry the column, but the sorcerers drove her back with oaths and spheres of blue energy.
Hajira, Sayyed, and Helmar joined Mohadan at the front. “The Copper Gates will probably be enspelled with wards and be the most heavily guarded,” Sayyed said. “But the straightest, quickest road to the palace and the citadel runs from there.”
The Kirmaz-Ja nodded, his grizzled beard jutting from beneath his helmet. “We’ll attack there.” He glared at the sun, now nearly overhead. “Damned gryphon. It delayed us too long. We had no time to get anyone inside, and now it’s almost noon. The Ritual of Ascension was always begun when the sun reached its zenith. We have very little time to fight our way through. At least it is a long ritual.”
“And we probably do have someone inside,” said Hajira irritably. “For what little good it will do us.”
The column left the valley behind and trotted down the hills to the broad vale where the level fields rolled up to the foot of the city’s wall. The gryphon wheeled and screeched overhead. The sun beat on the men’s armor. The column spread out into a long line, eight horses deep, and moved forward at a canter. The yellow banner of the Kirmaz-Ja floated over the head of his standard bearer.
Sayyed hesitated a moment; then he unrolled some-thing he had brought with him. A gold clan cloak spread over his knees. He fastened it on, glad at last to be able to wear it openly and proudly before the Turics. A flash of color caught his eye, and he turned his head to see Helmar pinning a cloak to her own shoulders. The cloak did not surprise him, since the Clannad had been clan at one time, but its color did. Bright and bold and fiery red, Helmar wore the color of Clan Corin. He gaped at her, wondering why she had chosen that color; then she drew her sword in a signal to her riders and yelled a piercing war cry that was immediately echoed by a bellowed Turic command.