After the calamity of the day before, everyone had held their breaths as they watched the invasion. Mawyndul?’s father hadn’t even looked. He’d stood up and paced. Sile and Synne walked with him. The fane had walked off into the darkness behind the tent twice, only to return and sit back down.
The bridges had held.
The Shahdi had crossed, and the moment they did, the remaining three Spiders, who were freed of their responsibilities to guard the spans, began a barrage of attacks intended to soften the army’s path. Progress had been slower than his father had hoped, as evidenced by his constant complaints during the passing hours.
When the servants had dished out a late-night meal of cold meat and day-old bread, he and his father had listened to Taraneh explain that Alon Rhist was designed to make it difficult for an assault. Narrow pathways and plenty of bridges and stairs created choke points and gave defenders the advantage. From their vantage point, Mawyndul? had watched as the Shahdi began by clearing most of the city before scaling the stairs to the fortress. Despite the Spider his father had sent with them, the advancement had taken hours just to reach the upper courtyard.
Mawyndul? had been allowed one small part in the battle. With Jerydd’s siphoned power and his father’s guidance, he used Avempartha and shook the ground on the far side of the chasm. His part in the weave had been minor. Lothian just used him as a conduit; nevertheless, father and son had shared a rare moment of joy when the dome finally caved in.
“That’s more like it,” the fane had said while sitting back in his chair.
As morning approached and lightened the sky, his father called for wine. “I think this problem is finally solved.”
Then the dragon had appeared.
At first, it was only a dark shadow against the bright fires, and Mawyndul? wasn’t certain what he was seeing. All that changed when it breathed its own fire.
“What is it, then?” the fane asked.
Several heartbeats of silence went by. This wasn’t unusual for the Spiders. There was always a delay when talking to them.
“We don’t know,” Onya finally replied.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re holding hands and chanting. You’re supposed to be monitoring your web. You should be able to tell me everything.”
“It’s not a creature of blood and bone. It’s a light.”
“A light?”
“It appears as a terribly bright light. Something none of us has ever seen before.”
“What’s this light doing?”
“It’s killing our soldiers.”
The fane scowled. “Then destroy it.”
“Yes, my fane,” Onya said, and the tiny circle of Spiders began to chant. In general, most Miralyith at a certain level preferred storm Art. Mawyndul?, on the other hand, was partial to fire, even though nearly all of his tribe considered it mundane or even childish. He just enjoyed the sense of power, the ease of the draw and release. Storms were more complicated and took far longer to prepare, and he never thought the results were all that impressive.
“My fane.” Taraneh pointed to the north at a rider racing across the plain.
The rider was one of the Wolf scouts. He wore no armor, just his wolf helm and blue cape. Lothian set his wine down and stood up. Reaching the encampment, the rider thundered to a stop, dismounted, and ran forward to kneel at the fane’s feet.
“What is it?” Lothian asked.
“My fane, a large army approaches from the southeast.”
“An…an army?” the fane said with a baffled expression, as he looked to those around him for answers.
“The Gula-Rhunes, my fane.”
“How many?” Taraneh asked.
“Many thousands, my lord.”
“There!” Synne said, pointing with her quick hands.
Revealed by the first light of the brightening dawn, a large host of Rhunes appeared, cresting the distant hill. As the Fhrey watched, the Rhune army split into two groups, half making for Alon Rhist, the others wheeling in their direction. Even divided, the number of Rhunes facing them was overwhelming. There weren’t just thousands, but tens of thousands, and they did not walk in rows but in a mass, a jumble like a herd of deer. Even at that distance, Mawyndul? heard their shouts, an awful constant roar as they gleefully charged down the slope.
“You didn’t see them?” Lothian asked the Spiders.
“We were concentrating on the battle in the fortress, my fane.”
“Blind fools!”
“Do you still wish us to—”
“Forget the dragon, destroy the army!”
* * *