It immediately flinched backwards and dropped Aenwyn to the ground. Its pain-filled roar was dampened by the steel lodged in its palate, the hilt poking over its bottom lip. It tried to pull the blade free but discovered more pain in the process. This made it mad, mad enough to ignore the fear of pain and simply clamp its jaw shut, shattering Guardian between its teeth. The hilt and half the blade fell to the ground while the top half remained stuck inside its mouth.
Galanör was elated to see Aenwyn alive on the other side of the broken ballista and simultaneously heartbroken by the loss of one of his swords. In the path of the Troll’s burning ire, however, there was nothing he could do about either. Instead, he dived to the side, narrowly missing another fist. One after the other came down around the elf, each possessing the force of a falling tree. Galanör rolled left and right between crawling and jumping out of the way. With saliva and blood drooling from its mouth, the monster pursued him, swiping at anything and anyone that got in its way.
The ranger’s ultimate undoing came in the form of a crazed Warhog. The dwarven mount burst forth from the melee and knocked Galanör to the ground, giving the Troll time to bear over him. He tried to get up but there was nowhere to go but a wall of dwarves and Reavers locked in battle. If he pushed into them, they would all suffer the beast’s hammering blows.
With Stormweaver in hand, he rolled onto his back and faced the looming Troll. Its three remaining eyes narrowed on the elf and it sneered, revealing a sliver of the broken steel in its mouth. It raised its left fist, cracking knuckles the size of a man’s head. If that fist was coming down on him, Galanör was determined that it would feel the cutting bite of Stormweaver first.
Like a meteor, the fist was dropped, blocking out the sky above. But it never found Galanör of house Reveeri.
From his grounded position, the ranger could only marvel at Ilargo’s timely manner. The green dragon had snatched the Troll from the battlefield in his front claws and now carried the monster off into the heavens, there to be dropped from a dizzying height.
As Ilargo flew away, a new figure came to stand over Galanör. “What are you doing down there?” Gideon Thorn asked with a cocky grin and an outstretched arm.
The elf couldn’t help but break out a broad smile of relief as he took the offered hand. “Oh you know, just catching my breath,” he replied. “I’m glad to see you,” he said seriously. “The cavalry is just what we need about now.”
“I’m not the cavalry,” Gideon told him. “She is.”
Galanör followed his friend’s gaze to the sky, where a small figure was leaping from the back of Athis the ironheart. Inara Galfrey hurtled towards the battlefield like a star thrown by the gods. The Guardian of the Realm was enveloped in a multitude of flaring colours as she not only protected her fall with magic, but also surrounded herself with a destructive force.
There wasn’t a soul on The Moonlit Plains that didn’t feel her impact.
Inara came down directly on top of a Troll and obliterated it. The shockwave of magic then expanded outwards into an area densely populated by Reavers. They too were reduced to smaller pieces of themselves, never to rise in their master’s name again.
Perhaps, Galanör dared to hope, they could turn the tide after all.
21
Off the Beaten Path
Having finally put the north behind them, it seemed that those who had left Namdhor were the heralds of winter itself. The thick powder of The White Vale no longer buried the hooves of their horses, but thick clouds swarmed overhead, depositing fresh snow with every mile they covered.
In the lead, Asher had guided the company away from The Selk Road before they reached Kelp Town and, instead, cut across the wilds. To have continued on the road would have taken them far west, further into The Ice Vales. Using his superior knowledge of the land - and his affinity with the dark - the ranger led them through most of their first night, allowing them to cover as much ground as possible. There had, of course, been more than a few protests but Vighon had kept everyone focused, reminding them of their need for haste.
By the first ray of dawn, he had them back on their mounts until they reached the western edge of The Evermoore. From there, the company followed the forest south for another day and camped not far from where The Selk Road cut in from the west and weaved through the trees to the city of Lirian.
Now, under the light of yet another new day, Asher had them cross the road rather than take it. In his opinion, which had been voiced to the king, Lirian was an unknown quantity.
“Better we keep to the tree line,” he had said to Vighon. “If we follow it south we will eventually find The Moonlit Plains.”
“And it should be quicker,” Reyna had pointed out, easing the decision for Vighon.
With rolling hills to their right and The Evermoore’s towering pines to their left, Asher tried to relax for the first time since setting off on their relentless journey. Snow continued to sprinkle the land, adding an extra layer of beauty to it all.
With only one route to follow, and an easy one at that, he decided to ease off on the reins and allow others to pass him by and take the lead for a while. The ranger offered Avandriell an arm so that she might climb out of
