“General, call your men back.”
He snorted. “Not when I’ve got them boxed in. Did you drop out of the sky like a sack of rocks to tell me this?” The blade gauntlet strapped to the stump on his right arm twitched, hanging loose at his side. He had a shield strapped to his other and clenched the reins in a single fist, nudging the bay to keep it calmed.
Allavin craned his neck. “The Shae, Quickfellow, he’s in the city right now. Let him do what he came here to do, General. If you press the Kiran Thall too soon, they’ll slaughter you.”
The General spat. “They’re in disarray, Devers. You can see it in their ranks. I’ve got forty surrenders, maybe more, already. The will is bleeding from them. Have you seen where Ballinaire is hiding?”
“I have, but he’s not hiding. He’s around the side of that hill, with over a hundred Kiran Thall. It’s a secure way into the tunnels beneath the city. You won’t take him there.”
“Ban it! If we were only here sooner.” He swore again. “It’s ending, Devers. It’s ending today. I feel it throbbing in the air. We’ll finish them here at Landmoor.”
“No you won’t, General. Not now. Not until their magic has been squelched. They’ll slaughter the knights of Owen Draw if you attack. Trust me, sir. You’ve got to trust me.”
Shearmur bit his lip, his face twisting with impatience and anger. His eyes flared with tightly reined madness. “We’ve moving closer, Devers. If those craven rooks keep withdrawing, I’m unleashing the hounds of war. Your Shae friend doesn’t have long. Ban it!” He jerked the rein and the horse sidestepped in a full circle. “I won’t wait long for him, Devers. I promise you that.”
Allavin wiped his mouth and gave him a curt nod. He ran back to the alerion mount and grabbed the rider’s hand to be hoisted up. Swearing under his breath, he worked the knots to secure them and listened for the snort of a whistle that would make the beast launch into the sky.
“Are the paper kings listening to you?” the rider asked in Silvan, his face bemused.
“Not today, my friend. Fly.”
The rider clicked his tongue and the alerion lurched, its wings beating furiously as it rose from the humid moors it hated. Allavin’s stomach wrenched with the motion and he watched the ground shrink as they gained. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was caused so much by the alerion as the predicament.
Hurry, lad. Before it’s too late to stop any of them.
Almost in response to the thought, the rider shouted and pointed down, banking the alerion sharply.
Allavin’s throat caught. A line of Kiran Thall began spreading out along the base of the hill. It was a single line, one mount deep. The dark tunics and crossbow shafts looked like a long black ink stain against the coming dawn. It could only mean one thing.
The Kiran Thall were preparing to charge.
*
Exeres opened his hand and the Everoot was gone, vanished back to whatever oblivion that had created it. Its power had healed him one last time, removing the boils and blindness, correcting the damage that Mage’s attack had done. He felt the magic of the Everoot wink out, abandoning him totally.
As he opened his good eye, he saw the guttering flame from Mage’s orb trembling before his eyes. On the ground.
Sweet holy Achrolese, he dropped it!
Exeres dove for it as Mage bent to grasp it himself. Their bodies connected with a jarring thud as both scrabbled to grab the Sorian’s orb. The old man’s strength amazed him. Desperate people were always so. He tried to shoulder Mage aside, but the man wouldn’t budge. Exeres punched him solidly in the ribs, but it felt like striking a tree.
“Don’t fight me, boy! She’ll kill you! Don’t you understand?”
Justin lowered his fist and a wreath of flames came at them both, but Exeres’ Bloodstone caught it and absorbed it.
“Stand aside, priest! Let me kill him!”
Mage’s elbow struck Exeres’ jaw, stunning him a moment. He recovered and pounded on the old man’s back and guilt bloomed inside him. Bringing up his knee, he caught the Sorian in the stomach and shoved him back. The orb lay right at his feet.
Exeres dropped to the ground, another shock of magic exploding in the air above him, also tamed and absorbed by the Bloodstone. He grabbed the orb and Mage grabbed his hand, wrenching with both claw-like hands to pull it away from him.
Exeres swung the Bloodstone around into the old man’s skull. And again. A faint cut slit down his temple, but he bled water instead of blood and the wound folded closed as if a torn rose petal were healed.
“Don’t let her have it, boy!” Mage whispered. “Don’t let her have them both!”
He felt Miestri’s will lurch against his, shoving part of him down to take control.
—He’s mine, Mage!—