Bryant surfaced just behind the boat, but a leaping lizardman came splashing down into the river right on top of him. The huge sheet of water thrown up by the splash, and the swell of the impact, rocked the boat violently. Wyndall fell awkwardly onto the floorboards, but Dort used the motion of the wave to pull himself up. The two women did the rest, and hauled him over the side, like he was an oversized fish. The last thing Wyndall remembered, before slipping into unconsciousness, was the gasps of horror from the two women, and Bryant’s blood-chilling scream as the swift swimming Zard tore him apart in the water.
Bzorch’s thirteen chosen tore through the trading town of Halter with a sickening fury. After feeding on the slower of the townsfolk, they spent two nights raping, and recuperating from their long trek through the fields and forests of central Westland. Then they were off again, loping away towards Locar. What they found when they got there was more daunting than anything their simple minds had ever conceived.
The size of the bridge city was overwhelming. It was bigger than ten of the other towns they had seen put together. Why anyone would dwell in a place so crowded and noisy, none of them, save for Bzorch, could fathom.
As they had been ordered to do by the Dragon Queen, they waited on the outskirts of the city for nightfall, killing anyone who ranged too close to their hiding place. That night, just as planned, the dragon came.
As Claret set upon Locar with Queen Shaella riding proudly on her back, the Breed giants tore into the city with a vengeance. While most of the chosen wreaked havoc in the city, Bzorch, with Claret’s help, went about doing the important work. Together, they demolished the crossing bridge. Claret, with her massive claws, crumbled, and crushed, huge sections of the stone worked archways, and burned anything flammable to ash, while Bzorch bashed away the smaller parts of the structure. It wasn’t long before the deed was done. The only bridge over the wide and mighty Leif Greyn River, which crossed from Westland into the eastern kingdoms, was un-crossable. Westland was isolated now, and Shaella’s conquest was complete. No army could march into the west, without first going through the Giant Mountains, or swimming the Leif Greyn River, or sailing around the great expanse of the Marshlands, and those three occurrences would be easy to defend against.
Just as Bzorch became the undisputed Lord of Locar, Shaella, Dragon Queen and Master Sorceress, leader of the half beast Breed giants, and the Mastress of the Zardmen of the marsh, became the sole ruler of Westland. And her Westland, unlike Glendar’s, was a kingdom that no one could take from her.
Chapter 44
Hyden had to explain to Mikahl how the elves felt about the humans, how human folly, over and over throughout time, had brought trouble to the lands, and how the elves had come to the rescue, again and again. He also tried to explain that unsheathed, Ironspike’s presence might bring more dark creatures down upon them at any moment.
Mikahl put the sword away, but he still fumed at the idea that they weren’t welcome in the elven forest city, or whatever it was. The fact that they were being detained out in the regular forest, while Vaegon gathered his things, appalled him.
“Here we are, going off to try and save the world from the likes of demons, and these fargin yellow-eyed bastards won’t even let us stop in for a visit!”
“Sounds like something my father would say,” Hyden said, more to himself than to Mikahl.
The wolves didn’t hunt that night, nor did Talon fly through the forest. They, and the companions, just waited there in the camp for Vaegon to return.
Hyden laid down, and stretched out to rest. The wolves, save for Grrr, did the same. Grrr sat close to Mikahl, who was sitting against his tree, with Ironspike lying sheathed across his lap. All around them, seen, and yet unseen, elves guarded their position. They didn’t do it in an obvious manner – they weren’t ringed around the group with drawn weapons – but they were there, and not trying to hide the fact completely. That glint of yellow eyes over there, a rustle of undergrowth, and a muffled whisper over here. They could have been utterly silent, Mikahl knew; he had observed the way the eased through the forest while they were leading him back to the camp earlier. He guessed that they had relaxed, and let their guard down, but didn’t understand why.
Hyden had caught up to Mikahl when he had come upon the distressed wolves and the armed elves, and just in the nick of time. Mikahl had been certain he was about to become an elven porcupine, and still his instinct had been to attack in order to defend the wolves. Hyden’s shout had been the only thing that had stopped him from it.
The elf called Deiter, who Mikahl later learned was Vaegon’s younger brother, explained the situation to Hyden, after they each had placed an open palm on the other’s chest, over the heart. After the gesture, bows lowered, and stances relaxed. Hyden spoke soothingly to the Great Wolves and calmed them enough for them to stay quiet. Reluctantly, Mikahl slid Ironspike back into its sheath, but unlike the elves, he didn’t relax his guard. Neither did Grrr.