terrifying looking hellcat. The horse-sized panther-looking creatures dove away and swooped down into the skirmish below. With tooth and claw, and severe lashes of their long treacherous tails, they cleared away soldiers and breed giants as if they were batting flies. Screams of terror erupted and Jarrek’s men had no choice but to fall back.
Sholt caught his breath and sent a series of streaking pulses of magical energy up at the Choska. One of them found its mark, causing the beast to roar and dive away. Jarrek raised his sword high and charged one of the hellcats. “Make way!” he screamed, trying to get through the ranks of men battling for their lives. “Make way!”
He yelled and charged his horse and came in swinging vicious arcs with his blade. He had to dodge a claw, but his sword bit flesh repeatedly. The hellcat roared, and a nearby breed giant, whose chest was striped with bright red dripping slashes, brought his tree-limb club down across the hellcat’s back with a crunch. Jarrek spurred his mount around and leaned down, thrusting his blade. It sank deeply into the hellcat and his men swarmed over it before it could recover.
“Do not fear them!” Jarrek screamed, holding his bloody sword high for all his men to see. “They bleed and die! They bleed and die!”
The men got the message and found some courage in the actions of the Wolf King.
The Choska, with Flick on its shoulders, came screeching down. Sholt saw its target plainly. King Jarrek’s red enamel armor with the glittering wolf skull helm made him stand out in the fray. Even more so, since he was standing in his saddle, with his sword raised high. For lack of options, Sholt calmly cast a spell, and blasted Jarrek right out of his stirups with a fist of wind. The Choska’s powerful claws would have closed on Jarrek from behind, but it missed.
Flick snarled and found the white-robed wizard at the northern edge of the battle. He cast a spell that caused an invisible web to fling across the Highwander mage. Then, while Sholt squirmed to get free, Flick assaulted him with swirling blasts of wizard’s fire. Due to the constrictions of the web, Sholt wasn’t able to cast a protective counter. He took the full brunt of the searing blast.
Flick brought the Choska around to attack again but was suddenly jarred from his seat and nearly tossed. A spear was embedded deeply in the Choska’s neck. The beast arched and writhed in the air and screeched out in pain, but it could do nothing more. It was all Flick could do to settle the demon beast.
Flick twisted back to see where the missile had come from and found himself looking down at Shaella’s Lord of Locar. Bzorch was surrounded by a dozen of his breed giants, each of them carrying big coils of rope. Bzorch was holding a… What? A giant crossbow?
Looking at the spear jutting out of the Choska’s neck with a dozen feet of rope dangling from it, Flick realized that the huge breed giant was toting a dragon gun.
“Shaella will make you pay for this, Bzorch,” Flick said to the wind. He urged the Choska away from the battle. He had no choice but to flee the area. The Choska was wounded and needed to land before it crashed. Each wing-beat ground the jagged spear tip into its tendons and muscles that much deeper. Shaella wouldn’t be pleased with Flick for retreating, he knew. But she would take her anger out on the breed giants of Locar, not him. Flick couldn’t believe they’d betrayed her after she set them free. He could only wonder what Jarrek and the Squire King promised them for their treachery.
The dragon gun didn’t matter. Queen Shaella and Vrot would soon lay waste to Locar for this, Flick was certain. The zard would relish helping her-they hated the breed.
If for some reason Vrot failed her, Flick was sure that the terrible thing that used to be Gerard would annihilate the whole city. Flick, even while watching Pael, charged and raging with his raw demonic might, had never felt anything half as powerful as Gerard. Kraw, Shokin, whatever Gerard was now, was the epitome of dark power. Flick almost felt sorry for the realm.
Jarrek didn’t know what hit him, but he saw the great dark shadow of the winged demon pass over as he was knocked from his saddle. He was immediately surrounded by Highwander men and Valleyans, who kept a protective ring around him. His horse lay twitching on the muddy ground, a pair of deep slashes across its back. Jarrek couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. A Valleyan captain held out the reins of a horse that had lost its rider. Jarrek found his sword in the muck and climbed on it. The other hellcat was dancing on its wings just over the battle. It would dip and claw and then rise up before a spear or a sword tip could find its belly. Several arrows stuck out of its hide, but it seemed unconcerned with the minor wounds. Jarrek was having trouble breathing-the hard fall had broken his ribs, so he made his way back to the bannerman. He was glad to see that his men were still pressing, but the cost was high. Everywhere around him, men who were fighting for a kingdom not their own lay dead or dying. They hadn’t died in vain, though. Once Jarrek could see the whole of the battle, he knew it. The rise of the rocky foothills was at their left, and the wide expanse of slow flowing river was at the right. They were at the mouth of the bottleneck. The day was almost won. It was all the Dakaneese could do to retreat without killing each other as they were forced backwards into the narrower field of battle.
Battle Lord Ra’Carr gave out a defiant cry and charged the lines of Jarrek’s force right behind the remaining hellcat. The call he gave was, “For Ra’Gren! For your king!”
The hellcat ravaged a path for the Dakaneese to fill and much ground was lost. Jarrek’s estimation had been premature, but then another battle cry rang out, a deep and savage call. Jarrek looked around to find the Lord of Locar trying desperately to get a clear line of fire for his weapon. Jarrek almost laughed at the welcome sight. Then he stood in his stirrups and tried to help the half-breed. “Clear back from it,” he screamed, urging others to repeat his cry. “Clear away from the flying beast.”
Whatever happened next worked for the breed giant because Bzorch fired a spear. The hellcat gave out a horrible shriek as the barbed bolt shot through its gut. It flew up into the air, but couldn’t get away. Three breed giants had the other end of the rope. The hellcat looked like a huge malformed kite, swooping and twisting in the wind as it tried furiously to get itself free. But the barbs on the spear, and the rope, held it true. The three breed giants on the ground, heaved and pulled, and heaved and pulled, slowly dragging the creature down to the blades waiting below.
While this was going on, the Dakaneese pulled out of the bottleneck. Jarrek’s men held their position instead of pursuing. Having lost the passage, the Dakaneese soon realized there was nothing left to fight for here. Slowly, the sounds of battle fell away. To punctuate the end of the bloody ordeal the Lord of Locar let out a deep primal yell as he bodily beat the last bit of life out of the skewered hellcat. It was a victory scream, and feeling the rush of conquest surge through them, King Jarrek, and many of the men, raised their swords and joined in the call.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Seeing the Shepherds’ Goddess raising sail and easing away from them made Mikahl shiver. The little rowboat he and Hyden were in was heavily loaded with supplies that they knew were ultimately useless, and the slow rolling waves were huge. Mikahl let out a nervous laugh. Beyond the ship, the bright amber sun was setting.
“What’s funny?” Hyden asked, as he gathered up the oars and began to row them away from the sun.
“You and I, Hyden,” Mikahl laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re either daft or just plain ignorant.” He turned away from the silhouette of the departing ship and looked at Hyden. Hyden had bright rays and a bunch of long dark hair in his face and was squinting. “We’re miles from land in a fargin rowboat, with the sun going down no less. What if we get switched around and row all night in the wrong direction? What if the current carries us right into Kingsport? We’d be caught and killed. What if…?”
Hyden spoke over him. “What if you quit acting like a worried old crone?” Hyden joked at his friend’s obvious nervousness. “In all of our travels, Mik, you’ve been the brave one. You’re the reckless swordsman, the one who shows no fear.” Hyden looked around them, and for a fleeting moment he felt as insignificant as an insect. “You’re afraid of the sea, aren’t you?” he asked with a grin.
“Not while I’m on a ship,” Mikahl admitted, with a scowl at Hyden’s mirth. His scowl faded as Hyden’s grin slowly turned into a shocked look of fear.
“Oh gods, Mik,” Hyden gasped, pointing behind Mikahl toward the sunset. “It’s a giant serpent!” Mikahl’s eyes
