The battle was coming to an end as the host of Murmandamus streamed out of the city, fleeing toward the Dim wood. The word of Murmandamus’s disappearance had spread as if blown through Sethanon by a sudden wind. Then, without warning, the Black Slayers, no matter where they were, collapsed as if their lives had been sucked out of their armour. This, along with the arrival of the Tsurani and the magicians and reports of more armies on the horizon, had caused the attack to falter and then fail. Chieftain after chieftain ordered his clans away, quitting the battle. With leadership evaporating, the goblins and trolls were slaughtered, until the still-larger invading army was in complete rout.
Jimmy hurried through the halls of the keep, looking among the dead and wounded for anyone he knew. He dashed up the stairs to the wall overlooking the killing ground and found a clot of Tsurani blocking the way. He slipped through them and saw a chirurgeon from Landreth standing over two bloody men who slumped against the wall. Amos had an arrow still sticking from his side, but was grinning. Guy was covered in gore and had a terrible-looking cut along his scalp. The cut had severed the cord holding the patch over his eye, and the angry, empty red socket could be seen. Amos laughed and almost choked. “Hey, boy. Good to see you.” He looked about the wall. “Look at all these little peacocks.” He waved one hand weakly at the brightly clad Tsurani soldiers, who looked on with unreadable expressions. “Damn me, but they’re the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.”
Then from below came a grinding, followed by a soul-chilling thunderous roar, as if some terrible host of madness was suddenly escaping from hell. Jimmy looked around in startled wonder, and even the Tsurani exhibited surprise. A trembling filled the keep as the walls began to shake. “What’s that!” shouted Jimmy.
“I don’t know, and I don’t plan on staying here to find out,” said Guy. Gesturing to be helped to his feet, he took the outstretched hand of a Tsurani warrior and got up. He motioned to what appeared a Tsurani officer, who ordered men to pick up Amos. Guy said to Jimmy, “Order whoever’s alive to evacuate the keep.” Then the rolling motion below increased and he staggered, while the howling sound grew in volume. “No, tell whoever’s alive to evacuate the city.” Jimmy ran along the battlement, heading for the stairs.
TWENTY - Aftermath
Again the room trembled and shook.
Arutha listened, clutching his bleeding side. It sounded a distant battle, with titanic forces unleashed. He went to where Pug and Macros stood, with the two black-robed magicians next to them. He sighed as he nodded to them. “I am Prince Arutha,” he said.
Hochopepa and Elgahar introduced themselves and Elgahar said, “These two are undertaking to hold some power at bay. We must aid them.” The two Black Robes placed their hands upon Macros’s and Pug’s shoulders and closed their eyes. Arutha found he was alone again. He looked toward the grotesque husk of Murmandamus slumped in the corner. Crossing to where it lay, Arutha reached down and pulled his sword from the serpent man. Arutha studied the slime-covered form of the serpent priest and laughed bitterly. The reincarnated leader of the moredhel nations was a Pantathian! It had all been a ruse - from the centuries-old prophecy, to the marshalling of the moredhel and their allies, to the assault upon Armengar and Sethanon. The Pantathians had simply been using the moredhel, at the command of the Dragon Lords, hoarding the magic of spent lives to reach the Lifestone and use it. In all of it, the moredhel had been used more cruelly than anyone else. It was an irony of heroic proportion. Arutha was astonished by the realization, though he was too tired to do more than weakly scan the room, as if looking for someone with whom to share the revelation. Suddenly a rent appeared in the wall with the small door, and gold, gems, and other treasures were spilled upon the floor. In his fatigue, Arutha hardly wondered how this had come to be, for he had heard no sound of masonry collapsing.
Arutha let his sword point drop and turned to walk back to the magicians. Seeing no exit from the vault, he sat upon the dais and watched the four motionless spellcasters as they stood with hands joined. He examined his wound and saw the blood flow had lessened. It was painful, but not serious. He leaned back, getting as comfortable as possible, for he could do nothing but wait.