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Abyss below, she’s fallen for me! Stupid woman!
T’riss angled her horse closer, until almost within reach, and said, ‘But I admit to wondering, with not a little trepidation.’
‘What?’ Threadbare snapped.
‘Those Eleint, of course. Worse than vultures, those things.’
What? ‘They weren’t summoned?’
‘Summoned? Dear me, I certainly hope not!’
‘Then what the fuck do they want? A field of corpses to feed on?’
‘Not corpses, Threadbare. Magic. They feed on magic. Alas, there’s far too much of it about, these days.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
T’riss blinked. ‘Why, mine, I suppose.’
‘I should kill you!’
‘Oh, don’t think that – you break my heart! Besides, if it all gets out of control, you’ll want me there.’
Threadbare glared ahead to the storm-wracked clouds, the incessant flash of lightning, and the now endless drum roll of thunder. If it gets out of control?
‘Either way,’ T’riss continued, ‘let us hope that no more dragons come to the fray.’
‘Meaning you can handle three of them?’
‘Of course not, but if others come, there will be a storm like none other, and that wouldn’t be good. No, never mind, my dear. Rather, let’s think more pleasant thoughts, shall we?’
‘Oh I am, T’riss. Believe me, I am!’
‘Your expression breaks my heart!’
* * *
His body filled with agony, bruised and battered bloody, Endest Silann crawled towards the motionless form of Cedorpul. Steam rose from the deep furrows gouged into the slope of the valley side. Overhead the sky convulsed, the black clouds splitting apart to flashes of blinding light. The darkness itself was rent with strange slashes, through which the afternoon’s setting sun cut without obstruction. Whatever sorcery had been cast upon the land by Mother Dark was now wounded.
The distance between them seemed vast, as if Endest had set upon himself the task of crawling across an entire world. The pain rolled through him in waves, still echoing the barrage of assaults he had just weathered. Upon the opposite slope, Hunn Raal was down on one knee, head hanging. He had flung wave upon wave of Light-filled, coruscating magic, tumbling it down the slope, tearing up the ground as it crossed the valley’s basin, until it rolled up the slope in a surge to hammer into the two priests.
But they had held.
Until now.
The armies lining the crest upon either side had yet to move. Endest wondered what they had just witnessed. The sorcery, when at last it struck him, had at times lifted him from the ground, until he hung in the air, tendrils of actinic light tearing at him as an enraged child
would savage a rag doll.
But for all that, nothing slipped past. Dark and Light swirled in deadly embrace, spiralling skyward to convulse in the clouds overhead. Flung back to the earth, Endest Silann had fought on, and a hundred paces to the west, Cedorpul had done the same.
Until the latest waves had crashed into them. Endest Silann had heard Cedorpul’s scream, the sound like an iron blade scoring slate. He had caught flashes, amidst his own torment of defence, of Cedorpul’s suspended body spraying out horrifying volumes of blood, and when at last he fell back to the ground he was limp, broken.
Still, Endest crawled towards his old friend, watched by thousands.
He could excuse it. Shock was a terrible force. Horror stole all strength from flesh and mind. Nothing was left. Every choice seemed impossible. The world had just tilted, and every soul upon it struggled to regain balance.
This is the death of innocence. The child’s world is gone. Torn to pieces. What follows? None can say. But see me here, squirming like a broken-backed snake. See me here, in your stead, my friends. Such power as you witnessed has brought us low. Every one of us.
