Wanderlust and Brute bent double as they dug their paws into the floor and bounded down the corridor.
The dogs swarmed past Warlord Madoc as he raced into the room. Rhianna and Siyaddah charged in at his back, while Alun drew up the rear.
He heard a smack and a yelp, Brute’s cry. The dog went flying, thumped against a wall.
Madoc roared like a wounded animal, and as Alun rounded the corner, everything was in chaos.
The room was as cold as a tomb. Dead children littered the floor.
Wanderlust had hold of the Knight Eternal’s left wing and was dragging it backward and thrashing her head.
Madoc himself had taken a mighty swing with his ax, lopping off the knight’s right wing.
The knight growled like a beast and lunged past Madoc. It grabbed Talon by the throat and hurled her to the floor, just as Siyaddah leapt in with crescent shield, slashing at the knight’s wrist.
Talon’s own small sword clanged to the floor and came spinning near Alun, just as the Knight Eternal caught his balance and leapt in the air, kicking with both feet, sending Warlord Madoc flying over a chair.
Alun looked at the small sword, its blade covered with rust, and knew that it might be the only weapon in this room that had the power to unbind the knight, to drain the stolen life from is organs.
The Knight Eternal threw off Wanderlust and then leapt upon Warlord Madoc, grabbing him by the throat. He slammed Madoc’s head back against the wall, smashing the warlord’s helm and leaving a smear of blood, then howled in victory and gaped his teeth, ready to tear out Madoc’s throat.
Alun grabbed Talon’s sword and lunged at the Knight Eternal, aiming for its face.
The creature whirled and caught the blade in its hand, almost absently.
Too late it realized its mistake.
The blade struck, and the Knight Eternal gripped it like a vise. Alun struggled to pull it free, like a sword from an ancient scabbard, and the blade sliced into the creature’s palm.
It had been focused on Warlord Madoc, but now the Knight Eternal whirled and peered at its hand as if a serpent had just bit it.
“How?” it cried, raising its palm.
Black blood came boiling from the wound. The Knight Eternal studied this phenomenon, then looked up to Alun in consternation.
Already the creature had begun to change. Its dry flesh was turning papery, and it suddenly weaved, unable to keep to its feet.
“Death take thee,” Alun said thrusting the sword into its throat. The Knight Eternal fell back and collapsed.
Wanderlust leapt on it, wrestled free a leg, and then stood growling and shaking it.
Siyaddah stood in a fighting stance in the corner, as if afraid that the creature would get up and attack. Talon was crawling on her knees, shaking her head clear.
Warlord Madoc lay against the wall, blinking and breathing heavily for a moment. Alun had expected him to be dead, but suddenly he regained his feet.
The only fatality in the fight was Brute, who lay against the wall, lips drawn back in a permanent snarl.
Siyaddah raced to the Knight Eternal, grabbed it from behind, and pulled off the valuable wings. She could not leave such a prize for the enemy.
Alun stood above his dead dog, mourning.
“These are yours,” Siyaddah said, shoving the wings toward him. But Alun only stood. He peered up at her for a moment, and shook his head.
“I don’t want them.”
“Then bring them,” Warlord Madoc said. “I’ll wear them proudly. Come on. We’ve got a war to finish.” He whirled and raced through the tunnels, outdistancing his companions as he searched for a target for his wrath.
In Emperor Zul-torac’s observatory, Areth Sul Urstone lay in a fetal position, groaning in pain, watching the destruction of his city.
Suddenly the snarl and boom of thunder drums went silent. All of creation seemed to pause on the brink of ruin as the Death Lord raised a spidery hand, then turned his cowled head toward Rugassa, as if seeking permission to put an end to mankind.
“Will you concede?” the Emperor hissed. “Your soul, the life of your spirit, in exchange for the city?”
Areth knew that the Death Lord only awaited the Emperor’s command. Such wights, being less than half alive, could communicate across the leagues, whisper thoughts to the spirits of one another. It was for this reason that Lady Despair had elevated them in position, giving them charge of her armies.
They are waiting only for me, for my word, Areth knew. It is in my power to save my people, or to let them die. He let out a whimper of pain and despair.
Rhianna landed upon a parapet above the city, where High King Urstone knelt above the body of the wounded Fallion, examining the splotch of blood smeared over Fallion’s ribs. The thumb-lanterns here had blown out, apparently when the great stone doors that concealed this place had fallen. Now the parapet was open to the cool night air. Stars rained down light, sprinkling it liberally over the gray stone. Flowers, overflowing from gray pots, gleamed like starfish in the darkness, perfuming the night air. Pennyroyal petals and seeds had been strewn upon the floor, giving a heavenly scent.
This would be a pleasant place to die, she thought.
Rhianna gasped, sweat streaming from her face after the short flight, and peered down at Fallion, her heart burdened with worry.
Down below, the thunder drums had fallen silent. Rhianna had seen the huge battering rams that the wyrmlings carried through the city, entire trees felled just for this purpose, bound with iron rings, fitted with brass heads shaped like snarling lions. With a single thrust of each battering ram, sparks and fire had flown out, and the great iron doors had shattered, torn from their hinges.
There was nothing to stop the wyrmlings from taking the city now. It had no defenses left. The warriors that held the tunnels were too few in number. They might slow the wyrmlings for an hour, but that was it.
Dawn was still an hour away. The eastern skies were brightening on the edge of the horizon, washing out the stars.
King Urstone spoke. Rhianna did not understand his words, but she understood the tone. He pointed to the east.
“Take him and go,” King Urstone said, “if you can carry him. Save yourselves. There is nothing more that we can do. The city is lost, and I wish to die with my people. The wyrmlings will be inside within an hour, and nothing can save us.”
Rhianna nodded. “Give me a little while more.” She knelt and gently touched Fallion’s wound. He had already fainted from loss of blood, and it was just beginning to clot. To try to move him would only cause the wound to break open. She didn’t dare risk it.
With a heavy heart, High King Urstone nodded, then took a fighting stance above Fallion’s body and just stood above him, battle-ax gripped in both hands, on guard. “I will watch with you as long as I can.”
Vulgnash studied the three as he plunged from the clouds, and his heart filled with glee. They were unaware of him until the instant that he landed in a rush of wings, standing upon a stone railing above them.
High King Urstone roared and whirled, his battle-ax swinging at Vulgnash’s legs. The movement seemed painfully slow. With five endowments of metabolism, Vulgnash easily leapt above the blow and still had time to cast a spell that drained Fallion of precious heat, chilling his body to near death.
The air on the parapet suddenly turned to ice, and fogged from the mouths of Vulgnash’s enemies. The flowers in their pots began to rime with frost.
Rhianna shouted and batted at Vulgnash with her staff.
He knew that weapon. It was a deadly thing. He had tried to curse it into oblivion, and he had imagined that it would be rotted by now, full of wood worms, but the staff still glittered in the starlight, hale and deadly.
The relic was a curiosity. He was amazed that it held such power, and at some future time, he hoped to study it further.
Vulgnash stepped aside, and Rhianna’s blow connected only with stone.
