Sir Morrec, gritting his teeth, stayed until most of the guests were gone then went to Iyesta to pay his respects. The big dragon accepted his remarks gravely, and her red-gold eye stared at him unblinking. Iyesta knew how Sir Morrec felt about dragons, but she liked the man nonetheless.
After the Solamnics left Iyesta’s lair they rode without speaking. Linsha and Sir Morrec led two columns. The first part of their way passed through ruinous areas of the old city left deliberately unsettled by order of Iyesta. The phantom images of Gal Tra’kalas hovered around them, showing pleasant homes, flowering gardens, and elves preparing for evening.
Linsha watched the scenes around her for a little while, hoping the idyll peace would ease her headache, but it seemed to only grow worse. She felt breathless as if the air were thick and heavy and too difficult to breath. She had to force herself to sit straight in the saddle and not slump over her horse’s neck. The stillness of the evening around them became oppressive. The horses’ hooves echoed with an uncanny sound through the ruined streets.
A sudden gust of wind swept around them causing Sandhawk to tremble and toss his head. Linsha calmed the horse with her hands and knees, but her eyes stared in surprise at the ghostly scenes around her. The gust of wind that startled her horse had stirred the phantom trees and whipped up swirls of ghostly dust and debris in the vision of the elves’ old city. That wasn’t supposed to happen that she knew of. The old familiar feeling of apprehension suddenly bit her.
Another gust blew over them, a sucking wind from the east that stirred the sunken heat and sent dust devils dancing. In Gal Tra’kalas, a young elf maid ran by with her hand clutched to her head scarf and her eyes wide with dismay. A phantom dog dashed along the street, barking furiously. Other figures could be seen hurrying for shelter, closing windows, and rushing children under shelter.
“My lord,” Linsha heard one of the Knights call out. “You should see this.”
As one, the group reined to halt and followed the direction indicated by the Knight’s hand. They looked up beyond the ruins, beyond the images of the Missing City, to the western sky where the sun sat like a fiery egg on the edge of what looked like a sullen black mountain range of jagged, soaring peaks. On the nearly flat and treeless grasslands around Mirage, the phenomenon was startling.
“Kiri-Jolith’s glory!” one Knight exclaimed. “What is that?”
“Maybe it’s a dust storm,” said another.
“An eruption of volcanoes?” ventured a third.
“Could Thunder be doing that?”
After the long meeting they had just endured, the blue dragon was close on everyone’s mind, but Linsha, eyeing the odd-looking formations, doubted he was involved. For one thing, the clouds seemed to be expanding. Already the gray-black mass stretched from north to south and billowed upward at a frightening rate.
Worried, she said, “Sir Morrec, I don’t think Thunder has the power to do something like that, and I don’t believe that is a dust storm either.”
The Knight Commander squinted hard at the sky. “It reminds me of the thunderstorms we’ve seen sweep across the plains… hut I’ve never seen one quite like that.”
Around the riders the light dimmed and turned an odd gray-green color as the sun, already on its descent, was overwhelmed by the towering banks of cloud. The Knights watched the seething mass approach with frightening speed. “Sir,” said Linsha. “We should return to Iyesta’s lair. That storm looks ferocious.”
The old Knight waved aside her warning. “I agree we should seek shelter, but at dusk storms always look worse than they really are. We’ll ride on to the Citadel. We should have time to reach it.” He raised his hand and waved on the squad before she could protest. They moved out at a quick trot.
Dismayed, Linsha urged Sandhawk on. The chestnut snorted nervously and balked, his eyes rolling in fear, then he lunged forward. It took all of Linsha’s strength to keep the horse from bolting.
The other Knights’ horses were terrified, too. Their heads tucked down, they fought to snatch their bits and escape from the coming storm. They pawed the ground in their agitation, and their ears lay flat on their heads.
The wind abruptly veered from the west, and the earlier gusts strengthened to a cold, hard gale that whipped grit and dust into the Knights’ faces and threatened to tear them from their saddles. The sky darkened to black. By unspoken consent the squad sped into a canter in spite of the risk of the rough road and the panicky horses.
Linsha looked up once and saw the churning, roiling mass of clouds had almost overtaken them. She peered around desperately for some place where they could seek cover, but they were still in an empty area of the ruinous city. Only ghostly buildings rose around them in mocking illusions of shelter. Strangely enough, she could see the coming storm was still affecting that city as well. Its streets were being whipped by the same wind and the inhabitants ran for cover.
“Sir!” Linsha yelled to Sir Morrec. “We need shelter now! We won’t make it to the Citadel.”
To add emphasis to her plea, a blinding bolt of lightning exploded across the sky followed two seconds later by a crash of thunder that made the ground tremble.
The horses reared and screamed in terror. Most of the Knights fought to stay mounted. One threw up his arms and crashed to the ground where he lay motionless on his back.
Over the mining chaos of frantic horses and scared men, the lightning streamed again across the sky. In that split second moment of time, Linsha happened to be looking toward the fallen Knight when the electric white light filled her entire vision.
She blinked and the light was gone, but for that second she saw something long and thin protruding from the man’s chest. She forced Sandhawk to a trembling standstill and tried to look for the other Knights. The fallen Knight needed help, but she could see little in the increasing blackness that surrounded them.
A horse neighed to her right, and she could hear cursing and the scrape of horses’ iron shoes on stone. In the wail of the wind it was hard to hear anything. Was that a scream or just an effect of the wind?
Just then another furious bolt seared down and struck the ground close by with a jarring impact. The concussion slammed her off her horse. Sandhawk, freed of her weight, galloped away in hysterical terror.
Linsha lay flat on her back, her body one large ache and her lungs heaving to pull in some air. Somewhere close by, she heard more voices and the frantic cries of horses. Something didn’t seem right. Most of the voices were frightened, surprised, and full of panic. Others sounded fierce, and one screamed something in a language she did not understand. Her aching head reeled. How many people were out there?
She staggered to her feet and fumbled for the short sword she wore at her side. “Sir Morrec!” she cried into the howling wind.
“To me!” came a reply from her right.
Another sudden blast of lightning broke through the clouds, and in the glare of the stark light, Linsha saw her fellow Knights-mostly now on foot-locked in struggle with a strange foe. They were being attacked by tall, muscular, human-looking warriors-warriors Linsha had never seen in the Missing City. The illumination burned out and thunder rocked the sky.
Linsha’s shaking hands finally found a grip on her sword and wrenched it free. She had not seen Sir Morrec in that glimpse of fighting men, but he had to be close by. She had heard his voice.
All at once, the tempest broke. With a rapidity that stunned the senses, the world became a driving, battering vertical wall of rain and stinging sleet. Linsha was drenched in an instant. The lightning now came thick and fast followed by such thunderclaps the whole sky shook with the rolling roar.
Linsha fought her way toward her companions. Although the shouts and cries had lessened, she knew the men were close by. She just had to find them. To her dismay, the solid curtains of rain made that very difficult. She could see almost nothing, even when the lightning lit the landscape again. Rainwater filled her eyes and her mouth. The sleet stung her skin. The wind pummeled her like the fists of the gods and tried to drive her to her knees. She ducked her head against the deluge and pushed forward.
Without warning, her foot caught on a heap of rubble and she fell sprawling on the muddy ground. The impact knocked her sword out of her hand and sent it sliding into the impenetrable gloom.
“Linsha!” a voice cried in despair.
“My lord!” she screamed.
A black figure, indistinct in the violent darkness lurched toward her. A sheet of lightning whipped through the clouds overhead and in its instant light, Linsha saw the gleam of a sword in the figure’s hand. With desperate strength, Linsha hauled herself to her hands and knees and scrabbled in the mud for her sword. Her trembling fingers found nothing but gravel and muck.
