The youth did as he was bid, and Jarwa handed his son’s sword to Kaba. Then he removed Tual-masok from his scabbard and gave it, hilt first, to his son. “Take your birthright and go.”
The youth hesitated, then gripped the hilt. No loremaster would glean this ancient weapon from his father’s body to present to the heir. It was the first time in the memory of the Saaur that a Sha-shahan had voluntarily surrendered the bloodsword while life remained in his heart.
Without another word, Jatuk saluted his father, turned, and walked to where his own companions waited. With a curt wave of his hand, he motioned for them to mount and ride to where the remaining masses of the Saaur gathered to flee to a distant world.
Four jatar would ride through the new portal, while the remaining part of the fifth, as well as all of Jarwa’s old companions and loremasters, would stay behind to hold the demons at bay. Chanting filled the air while the loremasters wove their arts, and suddenly the air erupted in blue flames as a wall of energy spread across the sky. Demons flying into the trap screamed in anger and pain as blue flames seared their bodies. Those that quickly turned away were spared, but those that were too far into the energy field smoldered and burned, evil black smoke pouring from their fiery wounds. A few of the more powerful creatures managed to reach the ridge, where Saaur warriors leaped without hesitation to hack and chop at their bodies. Jarwa knew it was a faint triumph, for only those demons whom magic had seriously wounded could be so quickly dispatched.
Then the snake priest howled. “They are leaving, lord.”
Jarwa glanced over his shoulder and saw the great silver portal hanging in the air, what the snake had called a rift. Through it rode the van of the Saaur youth, and for an instant Jarwa imagined he could see his son vanish from sight—though he knew it was wishful thinking. The distance was too vast to make out such detail.
Then Jarwa returned his attention to the mystic barrier that now shone white-hot where demons brought their own arts to bear. He knew the fliers were more a nuisance than a danger: their speed made them deadly for lone riders or the weak or wounded, but a strong warrior could dispatch one without difficulty. It would be those that followed the fliers who would end his life.
Rents in the energy appeared along the face of the barrier, and as they did, Jarwa could glimpse dark figures approaching from beyond it. Large demons who could not fly, save by magic, hurried over the ground, running at the best speed of a Saaur horse and rider, their evil howls adding to the sounds of battle. The snake priest put forth his hand and flames erupted where a demon attempted to pass through a rent in the barrier, and Jarwa could see the snake priest stagger with the effort.
Knowing the end was but moments away, Jarwa said, “Tell me one thing, snake: why do you choose to die here with us? We had no choice, and you were free to leave with my children. Does death at the hands of those”—he motioned toward the approaching demons—“hold no terror for you?”
With a laugh the Ruler of the Empire of Grass could only think of as mocking, the snake priest said, “No, my lord. Death is freedom, and you shall quickly learn that. We who serve in the palace of the Emerald Queen know this.”
Jarwa’s eyes narrowed. So the ancient legends were true! This creature was one of those whom the Mother Goddess had birthed. With a flash of anger, Jarwa knew that his race was betrayed and that this creature was as bitter an enemy as those who raced to eat his soul. With a cry of frustration, the Sha-shahan struck out with his son’s sword and severed the head from the shoulders of the Pantathian.
Then the demons were loose among the rear guard and Jarwa could spare but a moment to think of his son and his companions’ children, upon a distant world under an alien sun. As the Lord of the Nine Oceans turned to face his foe, he made a silent prayer to his ancestors, to the Riders of the Heavenly Horde, to watch over the children of the Saaur.
One form loomed above the rest, and as if sensing his approach, the lesser demons parted. A figure twice the height of the tallest Saaur, more than twenty-five feet tall, strode purposefully toward Jarwa. Powerful of form, his body looked much like that of a Saaur—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, large arms and legs well fashioned—but his back bore huge wings that seemed composed of tattered black leather, and his head . . . A triangular skull, much like that of a horse, was covered by thin skin, as if leather had been stretched across bone. Teeth were exposed, fangs close together, and the eyes were pits of red fire. Around his head danced a ring of flames, and his laughter turned Jarwa’s blood to ice.