The moredhel’s eyes again widened, and with a shriek of rage he leaped toward Arutha. “I will not be denied!”
Arutha narrowly avoided a blow of stunning savagery, which caused blue sparks to leap when the black blade struck the stones. But as he moved back, his own sword flicked out and he cut the moredhel upon the arm. Murmandamus shrieked as if some grave injury had been done, and staggered back a moment. He righted himself as Arutha followed the blow with another, and was able to parry the Prince’s second thrust. With a look of madness, Murmandamus clutched the wound, then regarded the crimson wetness upon his palm. The moredhel said, “It is not possible!”
With catlike quickness Arutha lashed out, and another cut appeared upon the moredhel, this one across his bare chest. Arutha smiled a smile without humour, one as savage as the moredhel’s had been. “It is possible, scion of madness,” he said with studied purpose. “I am the Lord of the West. I am the Bane of Darkness. I am your destruction, slave of the Valheru.”
Murmandamus roared in rage, the sound of a vanished age of insanity returning into the world, and launched his attack. Arutha stood his ground and they began to duel in earnest.
Pug.
I know.
They moved in concert, weaving a pattern of power, erecting a lattice of energies against the intruder. It was not so mighty a work as that used to close off the great rift at the time of the golden bridge, but then this rift hadn’t been opened yet. But there was pressure and they were being tested.
The pounding on the door continued as the wood began to splinter. Then came the sound of distant thunder, growing louder. The pounding on the door halted for a moment, then resumed. Twice more the booming sounded, as if coming closer, as the sounds of fighting seemed to be increasing. Then from outside came unexpected cries, and the pounding of the ram on the door ceased. Then an explosion rocked the hall. Jimmy leaped forward. He pulled aside the slide that covered the peephole, then yelled back at de la Troville, “Open this door!”
The commander of the company signed his men forward as the sounds of fighting reached his ears, and it took the strength of most of the men to move the half-detached door. Then they heaved and it opened and de la Troville and Jimmy raced through. Before them men in brightly coloured armour ran through the streets, battling moredhel and goblins on every hand. Jimmy shouted, “Tsurani! By damn, it’s an army of Tsurani!”
“Can it really be?” said de la Troville.
“I’ve heard enough stories from Duke Laurie to know what they’re supposed to look like. Little fellows, but tough, all in bright coloured armour.”
A squad of goblins turned before the keep retreating from a larger company of Tsurani, and de la Troville led his own men out, taking them in the rear. Jimmy hurried past, and heard another loud explosion. Down a broad avenue he could see a black-robed magician standing before a smoking pile of barrels and an overturned wagon that had been used as a breastwork. The magician began conjuring. Within a moment there flowed from his hands a heavy rolling ball of energy which struck some target beyond Jimmy’s line of sight, exploding in the distance.
Then a company of horsemen came galloping into view, and Jimmy recognized the banner of Landreth. Riding alongside came Kulgan, Meecham, and two black-robed magicians. They reined in and Kulgan left his mount, nimbly for one so stout. He approached Jimmy, who said, “Kulgan! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life, I think.”
“Have we arrived in time?” asked Hochopepa. Jimmy had never met the black-robed man, but, given his arrival with Kulgan, Jimmy assumed he had some authority. “I don’t know. Arutha vanished some hours ago with Pug, Macros, Tomas, and a dragon, if you can believe Galain’s report to du Bas-Tyra. Guy and Amos Trask are around here somewhere.” He pointed toward some fighting in the distance and said, “Du Masigny and the others are over there somewhere, I think.” He looked around, his eyes wide with terror and exhaustion. His voice began to sound thick with emotions held too long in check, rising with a near-frantic note. “I don’t know who’s left alive.”
Kulgan put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, realizing the boy was close to collapse. “It’s all right,” he said. Looking at Hochopepa and Elgahar, he said, “You’d better look inside. I don’t think this battle is truly over yet.”