The Central Square was alive with hell hounds, growling, leaping, and barking. They avoided the deadly chains crisscrossing the square, even when the behemoths lifted their feet and pulled the chains higher. The dogs surrounded Kellin as she fended them off with her father's sword and her spells. The fiery blasts from their mouths were unrelenting, and she was wounded and exhausted. Backed against the post, with hounds snarling at her on all sides and bounding over her head to attack from above, Kellin knew she had little hope of defeating them.
The ground shook as a behemoth stormed into the square. Its vast bulk traveled with remarkable speed and care, and it reared back and slammed its front feet down on the hell hounds that harried Kellin, crushing them beneath its great weight. Those massive feet landed mere inches from Kellin, and the vibrations rattled her brain. The remaining hell hounds jumped at the impact, many onto the deadly chains.
Kellin watched as the behemoth transformed, its vast size melting. Soon, standing before her was the green- robed druid Thanar.
'I've never been more grateful to see you,' she said.
'Nor I you,' he answered. He smiled in wonder, looking around at the chained behemoths crowding the square.
Kellin asked, 'How are the others?'
'Hengin fell, and so did Draf.' He lowered his head. 'The soldiers tore Draf down as we were toppling the city barracks.'
'And Vell? What of Vell?'
'I do not know,' said Thanar. 'Can we free the captives?' he asked, looking up at the trapped behemoths.
Kellin nodded at the post. 'Its enchantment is strong, but perhaps we can overcome it together.'
Both of them placed their hands over the stone post and began to concentrate, pouring all their energy into dissolving Geildarr's magic.
* * * * *
Rask's feet burned as he raced through the streets of Llorkh, the infernal dogs at his heels. With his gargantuan strides, he quickly reached his destination. The Dark Sun stood before him—the huge, purple-walled church raised after the Time of Troubles to the glory of Cyric.
In Rask's mind he was a small child again, flogged by Leng as Cyricists looked on and smiled. He felt each lash again, ripping his flesh.
The huge doors to the Dark Sun were closed. Rask pounded them with his huge forelegs until they flew off their hinges. As a behemoth, he shouldered his way inside, dozens of hell hounds following him.
The church trembled at his entry. Pillars shook, and shocked Cyricists darted and dived for cover as the behemoth rushed in. The temple could barely contain Rask, even with its enormous size. His head bumped the ebon ceiling, and he thrashed his tail at the jawless skulls staring at him from every wall. The hell hounds raced into the temple and dashed around Rask, howling and yipping, breathing flames, snapping at him, ripping away flesh in their fiery jaws. The priests of Cyric unleashed their cruel magic upon him.
Rask looked for Leng among the Cyricists, but was disappointed not to find him. He could think of many reasons for the priest's absence, but somehow Rask suspected he was dead. He sighed, wishing he could crush him under his heel, smash his body, grind him into nothingness.
He would settle for Leng's creation instead—the foul temple to the Prince of Lies.
Some Cyricists ran toward the doors to flee, but Rask shifted the bulk of his weight against the doors to block them. All would die together. Rask's vision blurred, and the walls seemed to close in on him. The skulls leered at him, pressing closer. The Dark Sun had always seemed like a giant tomb to him, but as a child, he never anticipated that it would be his tomb.
Magical chains tore at him, huge claws raked him. The hell hounds bit through Rask, exposing white bone. The priests stole his vision and tormented him with diabolical spells. Flames lashed over his body. He was dying. Every part of Rask's vast body rang with pain, but he was happy. He was laughing inside as he swung his great tail and threw his body about, upsetting ebon pillars and smashing through walls. Chunks of the ceiling collapsed. Acolytes ran for the exit but found their way blocked by falling debris. Their wailing prayers were not answered by their cruel god.
As the world fell around him, Rask lost all sense of body and place. Amid this destruction, he was at peace. He had a sudden vision of himself in his own half-orc body, resting for all eternity in the shade of Grandfather Tree. The boughs swayed, and the leaves danced. Eternity waited.
When the roof finally let go, bringing down the Dark Sun in a final, glorious ruin, Rask Urgek had never felt more satisfied.
* * * * *
Thluna swung the axe, cleaving the skulls of the last survivors among the Lord's Men who guarded Geildarr's Keep. Forcing open the great doors, he was surprised to find bodies lying within, slashed by swords. The dead had been dispatched ferociously but efficiently—a hallmark of a raging barbarian.
'Sungar!' he exclaimed. The chief must have escaped, saving Thluna the need to rescue him. On the wall nearby he noticed a painting of a man who could only be Geildarr, standing before a crowd of adoring citizens. Thluna smiled as he noted the blood smeared across his face.
He saw bloody footprints going up the staircase and followed them.
* * * * *
Netheril falling. This was not the same, but it felt just like it. Geildarr watched from his balcony as the Dark Sun collapsed in on itself, the final reservoir of magical strength in Llorkh destroyed. Buildings were falling all over Llorkh, and whole portions of the city were lost to his eyes in the haze kicked up by the debris. Rampaging behemoths went wherever they cared to, destroying whatever offended them.
A small stone cougar in the hall fell from its pedestal and smashed on the floor. It had come from Ammarindar and was almost a thousand years old. It had survived so much, only to break apart now.
His city. They were destroying his city.
The citizens of Llorkh, those who were smart, quit their lodgings and ran for the city gates. Geildarr could see them moving through the streets by the hundreds. He looked toward the Merchant District, where caravans were crushed and devastated by a behemoth's destructive passing. Their goods were surely beyond rescue. Perhaps this assault would finally convince Zhentil Keep that Llorkh required a larger garrison.
In all likelihood, however, it would convince them that it needed a new mayor.
Geildarr looked down at the Heart of Runlatha, still clutched in his right hand, and wondered if it gave him that dream to taunt him.
Ardeth appeared to report bad news. 'The barracks are gone. At least fifty of the Lord's Men were killed there alone, and just as many in the disaster at the gate. Battles are going on all over the city. The soldiers and Leng's hell hounds are the only ones fighting against the dinosaurs. This was a well-coordinated, intricately planned assault.'
'The Dark Sun has fallen,' said Geildarr. 'Cyric must be mightily displeased with us for letting his temple be destroyed. No rabble of barbarians could be so calculated in a siege. What force can be behind this?'
'I don't know, but Chief Sungar has escaped from his prison. He is racing through the Lord's Keep, killing anything that moves. I only barely escaped from him with my life. No doubt,' Ardeth added, 'he's looking for you.'
'I can handle one rabid Uthgardt,' said Geildarr.
Ardeth frowned. 'We have far more to deal with than one Uthgardt! Llorkh is being demolished building by building! Have you considered what will happen when Fzoul hears about this? He'll ask questions. He'll ask 'Who brought this on?' 'Why did this happen?' and 'Who do I blame?' You said he was angry that our incursion into the Fallen Lands failed—how do you suppose he'll feel about all of this?'
Each statement drove a nail into Geildarr's troubled mind. 'Do you think you need to tell me this? I know!' he
