Talon swooped down lower, and circled over the town. It was nearly deserted, and several of the buildings within the walls were burning. A few were already charred and blackened husks. As Talon turned back towards the east, Hyden saw that the wagon train going out of the gates was surrounded by armed and armored soldiers. The banners they displayed were white with Highwander’s Blacksword emblem emblazoned on them. Hyden shuddered. These were Willa the Witch Queen’s men. Hyden noticed that the women and children, some riding in the wagons, some on horses of their own, didn’t appear to be afraid of the Blacksword Warriors though. It became clear that the soldiers were protecting these people’s passage. Protecting them from what? Hyden wondered. Talon circled up high again, riding the waves of heat from the buildings burning in the town. In moments, he was up in the clouds, soaring back towards camp, just a tiny speck in the sky above the road.
Hyden was disappointed. He had been looking forward to seeing how so many people, cramped inside the walls of a city, interacted with each other. All he had seen in the city was a few dozen men loading up a few wagons, and a few ducks and chickens running loose in the empty streets. He decided not to give up, but to follow the road eastward for a while, instead of going back to camp just yet. He was glad he did, because what he found was a sight that amazed him even more than the little fairy man had.
Nestled in a green valley, at the base of the eastern mountains, was a massive hub of buildings, and life. From Hyden’s great vantage point, the city looked almost like an archery target. The center was a mass of white stone buildings and towers with shiny sparkling rooftops. In front of the main structure sat a deep sapphire-blue lake, with a fountain spraying up out of its middle. Several walls ringed that center jewel. The innermost was wide enough to drive a wagon along the top of, and the taller outer wall was as wide, if not wider, than several of the roads that led up to the various gates. Between the walls were squares and rectangles of brown, red and gray split by narrow roads that were speckled with busy people. To Hyden, they looked like ants scurrying around a mound.
From the south, other roads, three of them, led into the ringed walls like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Hyden urged Talon to dive down into the city for a closer look, but something large and dark passed beneath them. It was big and bat like, easily twice the size of the hellcat they had faced in the mountains. Luckily, neither the dark beast, nor its horn-helmed rider, seemed to notice the tiny hawkling gliding above it.
The thing’s aura was hot, and repulsive. It exuded evil and malice freely. What was worse was that it was heading on a northwesterly course, directly towards the camp. From above, Mikahl followed it for a while just to be certain. When he was sure, he pulled himself out of the hawkling, and as a thick feeling of fear and dread threatened to overwhelm him, he warned the others. It was coming for Mikahl’s sword.
“Make ready to fight!” he said sharply, as he made his way to the pile of packs that Urp had been carrying. “Something huge, and evil, is winging its way towards us.”
He described the creature and its rider as he strung the elven longbow Vaegon had given him.
Grrr rose to his feet and started pacing anxiously. The other wolves watched him, awaiting his command with alert eyes, high pricked ears, and ready stances.
Vaegon took out a long skinny pouch, and made to dump the contents onto the ground in front of him. Three arm-length shafts of intricately carved wood, and a wicked looking curved and serrated blade fell out of it. In a matter of moments, he had threaded them together into a pike-like bladed staff, which was a head taller than he was. He made a few thrusts with it to check its balance.
“I’m ready!” he said when he was satisfied.
Mikahl reached over his shoulder, and grasped Ironspike’s hilt. He didn’t want to draw it, and have its magic give away their position. Feeling that it was there, was enough for now.
“Let it begin then,” he said harshly, remembering the brutal message he had sent when he had crippled the hellcat, instead of killing it.
He pictured King Balton, all sweaty and breathless, dying on his bed. Then, he pictured Lord Gregory, sprawled out on the ground, his bloody body so swollen and broken that it was almost unrecognizable as human. Then, the scalding image of Loudin of the Reyhall forced its way through. His friend’s guts hung in the trees, as he clung onto the sword, with the last tendrils of his life spilling away from him.
Mikahl seethed with rage and anticipation. He felt nothing resembling fear at the moment. He was eager to face whatever it was that was coming. Through teeth clenched as tightly as a closed vice, he repeated the words again
“Let it begin!”
Chapter 45
Dreen, the kingdom seat of Valleya, is sometimes called the Red City, due to the color of the sun-baked bricks that make up its notably long wall. Its modest castle, and most of the other dwellings are made from the readily available resource as well. It sits in an arid, but grassy plain, just below the foothills on the eastern side of the Wilder Mountains.