and a long,scaly body flashed past, crashing into Grand Master Gallivan and dragging him away with it down the hill.
Even Grand Master Anthem was bewildered and surprised, looking utterly lost for words. Gallivan and the creature had already disappeared into the smoke and so there was nothing anyone could do. ‘We need a clear view of this situation,’ he finally stated. ‘I don’t recall the Gartens ever having such beasts as this. Something is amiss.’
While the old man pondered further, Samuel saw the opportunity to be of use. He slipped the Argum Stone onto his finger and summoned its strength. A surge of adrenalin made his heart leap and at once he began throwing out the weaves and spells that would move the air and clear this smoke. At first, it felt as though all was going well, but the magic of the ring would not be quelled when he wished it. As he began to worry, more and more magic forced its way out and into his spells. Too much power overwhelmed him and then the magic went wild. He struggled desperately to regain some control, knowing the others were watching him, but it was already too late. A spell of enormous proportions had been released,a spell of Moving of sorts, and it gripped the air above them and shunted it away with a single,colossal heave that made the hills around the valley shiver as if stricken with fear.
The wind that hit them felt like a wall of stone and it struck with a sudden terrible violence, tearing every man on the crest from his feet and tossing them away like dried leaves, leaving only the magicians holdingfastto the ground for grim fear of death. Those on lower ground dropped to their bellies lest they share the same fate, and they were saved from the full force of the gale. The roaring noise was deafening and it blinded them and pulled at their clothes and skin as if to strip them bare. Sand and specks bit their faces and filled their lungs.
‘That’s enough, Samuel!’ Anthem screamed into his ear, digging his fingers into the earth to hold on, but Samuel still could not control his spell.
He could feel the power of the ring burning its way inside him, creeping its way down his arm and towards his core. Only the hardened discipline of all his years in the School of Magic enabled him to focus his mind and he began separating himself from the Argum Stone piece by piece, closing off its power as well as he could. He had nearly met with success, when a nearby surge of magic caught his attention. A Great Spell had formed somewhere close by, for it was the only kind of magic powerful enough to distract him at this point. He felt it coalesce and gather unto the point of realisation and then, in a single gulp, it was gone.
Despite the distraction, he had no time to ponder the cause and Samuel fought back against the oppressive power of the Argum Stone. As quickly as it had come upon him, the onslaught of magic ended and he pulled the ring from his scalded finger and threw it back into his pocket before anyone could gain their wits.
With the spell ended, the wind died away almost at once. As Samuel shook himself off and stood, he saw that the smoke and dust and haze of the battleground had cleared; blown away with the wind. Grand Masters Anthem and Tudor were still beside him. Goodfellow was lying dazed some scant yards away, but Eric Pot was nowhere to be seen.
The silence was eerie, for perhaps half a million men all around-a sea of humans as far as the eye could perceive-had dropped to their stomachs for cover. Slowly, they raised their heads as they realised the hell-storm had passed and those that scrambled to their feet and readied their weapons the quickest had the first chance to strike those beside them. The quiet rose back to a roar and in the space of three heartbeats the battle had returned to full intensity. By now,there was barely half of the Turian colours left, huddled together in abuncharound the magicians and along the rise. Somehow, despite the Turian losses and the fact they faced overwhelming numbers, the battle continued in all directions.
The gore-covered form of General Canard appeared nearby, emerging from a mound of shields and bodies, and he staggered towards them. His armour was gone, somehow stripped away, and he had been fighting bare- chested and wounded, true to stubborn Turian form.
‘Come to me, Turians!’ he rallied and dozens of his men hurried to defend him.
‘Curious,’ Anthem stated, ignoring the general’s call altogether. ‘The Garten forces from the north and the south have reached each other and seem to be battling one another.’
‘What can it mean?’ said Tudor, stepping up beside him to see, still holding onto Grand Master Jurien’s staff.
Anthem shook his head and scratched at his wispy old beard. ‘I have no idea, but it still does not help us. We are still stuck in the middle of this mess. He then turned back to Tudor. ‘Take these two-up into the hills. I will give you as much time as I can.’
‘What about Eric?’ Goodfellow asked with alarm, looking around them. ‘Where is he?’
‘If I find him, I will take care of him,’ Anthem replied, ‘but,for now,we can only hope he is still alive. You have your own skins to save.’
‘Follow me as closely as you can,’ Grand Master Tudor told the two of them, and he cast the walking staff of Grand Master Jurien back to the earth besidethebodyof his friend. ‘Hurry!’ And with that he was away, speeding on remarkably spry legs and Samuel and Goodfellow followed.
They had almost made it fair across the battlefield, with old Tudor blasting a path before him, when something made Samuel stop and turn around. Anthem had set himself into a casting stance and had thrown his arms apart, unleashing a flood of magic into the air before him that tore the pattern to shreds. An otherworldly scene was visible for the briefest of moments, a vision of hellfire and horror, until another spell from the old man sealed the rift shut once more and the air was returned to its normal state. Such a spell was truly a wonder to behold.
‘A mighty spell,’ Tudor mentioned, waiting at Samuel’s side, ‘but not at all delicate. He is in too much of a hurry. I hope he can control whatever he has brought.’
Samuel was about to query the comment when the meaning became clear. In thefew, briefmoments that Anthem had bridged worlds, he had brought something through and it was now beginning to materialise. The air shimmered and a hideous behemoth of demonic proportions came into being, covered in billowing fire, crushing a hundred men beneath it as it appeared. The creature roared out with wrath as it beheld its surroundings, and it reached out with its enormous muscled arms and began plucking up the menin its path. The multitude of Gartens around it dropped their weapons and crushed against each other intheirfrantic effortsto be away. A brave few went at it with their swords, but they were the next to disappear into its gnashing maw.
‘How can he hope to control it?’ Goodfellow asked, hurrying along at the sight of the thing.
‘He won’t,’ the old man replied. ‘He had no time for that. I think he only plans to cause as much havoc as possible and,if any of us happensto live,we can deal with the creature then. In any event, such summons only lastswhile the spell that brought it prevails. The creature will return to its world in due course, as nature requires. Anything that is brought between worlds cannot remain long.’
Samuel had time to see the beast throw forty men to their deaths with one sweep of its hand, before the hillside trees obscured his view. Grand Master Tudor did not slow or pause a step and was dragging them up and into the light cover at once.
‘Quickly!’ he hissed at them and they continued on their way.
They were given no time to rest, even when they made the edge of the valley, as the old magician was already starting up the rugged incline, scampering over rocks and logs, up the slippery shale, darting about like a mountain goat. The roar and clatter of the battlefield still sounded strong behind them as they climbed the hill, broken by the occasional bellow from Anthem’s summoned monstrosity.
‘Do you think Eric is still alive?’ Goodfellow asked, struggling up the rise.
‘I hope so,’ Samuel muttered back darkly, ‘so I can wring his neck when we catch up with him.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘He left us. Didn’t you notice? While everyone else was struggling to hold on during that wind I summoned up, he used his Journey spell to sneak off.’
‘I thought we would have felt such a spell. The Grand Masters didn’t mention it.’
‘I definitely felt something,although in all the excitement I’m not sure exactly what, but it felt suspiciously like Eric used his Great Spell to leave us behind.’
‘But he wouldn’t just do that, would he?’
‘I would have hoped not, but I guess that remains to be seen,’ Samuel replied.
‘Quiet, you fools!’ Tudor hissed back at them. ‘Keep up!’ he ordered, as he darted further up the steep rise.
