There was no killing ground of hidden devices in front of the curved wall, simply a wide open space. It was strange to be running in the open. It felt like an eternity since Miro had last been able to see for a distance ahead of him without his vision being blocked by trees.
The iron gate stood wide open while the fleeing defenders poured through to find safety behind the walls, each man climbing up to fill the ramparts. But as he shot a glance over his shoulder at the pursuers, Miro saw that those bringing up the rear wouldn’t make it.
“I’m going to make a stand here,” Miro panted. “Get to the defenses.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Beorn said.
“Someone has to lead them!” Miro shot back.
Miro stopped and turned to face his enemies. Soldiers around him followed suit, and now the horde poured out of the opening road, forming a wide line. Miro caught Jehral’s eye and nodded in the direction of the wall, but the Hazaran shook his head and also turned to face the enemy. Bartolo waited in fighting stance with Shani by his side. Tiesto roared with battle rage. As the mass of glowing revenant warriors filled the open space, no more than fifty men waited to hold them back.
Miro heard the thunder of hooves behind him, in the direction of the gate.
A trumpet blasted, and as he spun around, the first thing Miro saw was a big yellow banner with a desert rose. Flames filled the air, surrounding Miro and those with him with flickering fire, but he felt no heat, and the inferno caused no harm. The enemy warriors began to slow their mad charge and Miro saw necromancers in their midst, calling the attackers to order, fearful of the raging flame, though Miro knew it was illusory.
A tall bearded man on a great black stallion led a wedge of countless men on horseback, riders pouring one after the other through the gate. This was a battle on open ground, the kind the desert warriors of House Hazara liked best.
With relentless speed, thousands of horses galloped forward, and the black-garbed men on their backs waved their scimitars above their heads and whooped.
They struck the horde with a sickening crunch. Immediately, the necromancers saw the danger and tried to turn their revenants back into the more defensible ground between the trees. As the Hazarans struck hard and wheeled around to strike again, the revenants rushed back to the road in a flood. The leader of the desert warriors expertly turned his men after the second charge. The flames around the fifty defenders vanished as quickly as they’d appeared.
Kalif Ilathor Shanti pulled hard on the reins, and his stallion reared back, hooves clawing at the air. He formed his men in a long line between the fifty defenders and the trees, but for now the ground was clear, and the revenants didn’t charge again.
“Back to the gate!” Miro cried.
With the Hazarans guarding their backs, Miro led his men through the open gate, the riders following them through. Finally, as the heavy iron gate closed shut, and three strong bars of iron were put in place in the slots, Miro lowered his sword and took a slow, shaky breath. He couldn’t believe he was alive.
The kalif of House Hazara had answered his call.
Ilathor leapt off his horse and ran forward to embrace Jehral. “Lord of Fire, man, every time I see you, you look worse than the last.”
“It is good to see you too, Kalif.” Jehral grinned.
“Kalif,” Miro said.
Ilathor walked forward, meeting Miro’s gaze. “High Lord?”
Miro pulled Ilathor into a rough embrace and leaned forward, speaking close into the man’s ear. He whispered hoarsely, and felt wetness on his cheeks as he looked past Ilathor’s shoulder at the multitude of proud horsemen who’d come to his aid.
“Thank you.”
36
“Why have you brought me here?” High Enchanter Merlon asked.
Ella took a deep breath. “High Enchanter, I know we haven’t always been the best of friends, but I need you.”
“You’ve never needed me before. In fact, you’ve always ignored my advice, rejected my opinions, scorned my strictures . . .”
“High Enchanter, please.” Ella tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “This time we need to work together. I have an idea . . .”
“Enchantress,” the high enchanter interrupted, “just tell me what you intend to do here.”
He indicated the expanse of the Great Court. The Green Tower loomed overhead, the buildings that formed the Academy of Enchanters framing a strange scene of serenity compared with the carnage Ella had left behind.
“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Ella glared at him, meeting his eyes. It was the high enchanter who broke contact. “I need . . .” Ella took a deep breath. “Please, High Enchanter, we need to make use of the purity sample.”
High Enchanter Merlon’s shaggy eyebrows shot up. His eyes narrowed. “What do you know of the purity sample?”
“I know that one of your duties is to test the essence that comes from Mornhaven. I know that you test the new essence against a supply you know is pure.” Ella smiled. “I have friends among the faculty.”