They soared over the city, Jolian appearing to track the primary avenue across the river, past the southern gate and castle, and toward the center of town, where they knew the Hall of Worlds stood. And that’s when they saw it—a force of warriors a thousand strong marched up the road inside Ortham unmolested. At their front strode four figures, one in a cloak that flapped in the breeze and holding a staff with a golden orb held high aloft. From this distance, they could not tell if it was on, but the Lords of Fear were already here. And they saw the dragon with its riders, the one with the Orb of Dominion pointing toward them. Jolian banked wildly just before a blast of lightning lashed the sky near them, but missed.
“Jolian!” Eric yelled. “Can you land near the Hall of Worlds?”
“Yes.” She dove then, twisting and turning in case anything else struck at them, but nothing came as they plummeted toward the buildings farther north. Matt saw a large rectangular structure standing by an open square where Jolian touched down. They might have normally expected crowds, but the place was empty. It took several minutes for all four to climb down to the stone plaza one by one.
“How are they here already?” Anna asked, scowling in worry, her eyes going to the road from where the Lords of Fear were likely coming.
Eric replied, “They must have ridden through the night.”
Still in dragon formed, Jolian rumbled, “It is the most likely explanation.”
“That means they will be tired,” Ryan suggested. “Hopefully. I’ll take any advantage we can get.”
“Yeah.” Eric’s gaze made Matt turn to see the familiar figure of Talis running toward them, from what he assumed was the Hall of Worlds. A dozen men followed, some wearing the insignia of Valegis, while others wore the red and black banner of either Gisla or Ortham. This was what might sometimes be helpful to know, but it didn’t matter this time.
“Ellorians,” Talis called as he stopped, “they arrived recently. But we are ready.”
“Someone cast the Mind Shield spell?” Matt asked. “On how many?”
“Yes, on those few left in the hall. As many as we could.”
“What about the illusion of us?” Matt asked. It wasn’t hugely important, but the distraction of it might be the difference between success and failure. This was the reason they had given locks of their hair to Talis, as an ingredient for the spell.
“The wizards stand ready,” Talis replied. “There are many more wizards than we could shield, so we couldn’t risk others being enthralled by being here. They could just turn against us. We have a hundred and could only bring a handful.”
Eric sighed. “Planning around this orb is getting irritating, not that we have a choice.”
Matt had to agree. The orb could turn friend to foe in seconds. A few shielded wizards would have to do instead of a hundred that might become a problem for themselves rather than the enemy. He felt a moment of fear that the shielding spell might not work. The memory of Soliander mentally probing his thoughts would never fade. The orb wasn’t much better. Anger strengthened his determination, and he turned to face the approaching threat.
“Is the orb already on?” he asked. “I couldn’t tell.”
Talis shook his head. “No. They haven’t used it, maybe because they didn’t need to. Like you had suggested, we cleared the streets to prevent their numbers from getting even larger.”
Eric said, “Talis, head back to the Hall of Worlds. I assume that is it behind us? Okay. Jolian, any chance you can duck behind that big building over there as you are? If the lords are far enough in front of the enthralled, maybe a blast of fire in between will keep the mob back. They are innocent and should not be hurt, but feel free to singe the lords.”
The dragon lumbered over that way, the ground shaking with every step, and the four Earth friends stood alone, silently looking at each other. Ryan loosened his sword and placed the golden helmet over his head, the act triggering the others to make similar movements. Eric checked his knife supply, finding nearly a half dozen left. Anna put one hand to Eriana’s amulet at her neck, closing her eyes and whispering. Only Matt stood as he was, as ready as he’d ever be. The sound of footsteps approaching en masse became clearer, but there were no shouts that one might expect from a force of warriors. Instead, they marched silently, the crowd finally appearing around a corner between two-story buildings of stone.
In front strode the Lords of Fear, the undead knight Lord Voth on the left, black mail plate seeming to devour the light instead of reflecting it like Ryan’s golden armor. He looked human from here, not something risen from the grave. Beside him strode a blond man with a waist-length cloak, trimmed in white, the underside of it royal purple. It swirled and flapped with the brisk steps of his booted feet, and even from here, his attire seemed elegant. He held a half-staff with the orb atop it, and the device did not appear to be on. Next to him walked a woman clad in black leather, with a ponytail of bright red hair, one hand on a short sword at her hip. She moved nimbly and efficiently, with sleek, dangerous confidence oozing
