A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [103]
The regent hurled sharp glances in all directions, taking in the scene- and his eyes widened.
"My daughter lives! he shouted exultantly, his Dwaer flaring overhead like a star. "Embra, lass! I'm here!"
"The regent!" Bloodblade howled, flailing at the armored backs of the armaragors before him with the flat of his blade. "Shy Azvre! Kill him before he can use his dark magic on us all!"
That danger goaded them as no other words could have, and Blood-blade's warriors charged forward into the ranks of the dead, plying their blades with frantic fear, wrenching aside corpses and forcing their ways on.
They threw daggers at the men standing on air-and then axes, and swords, too, whirling end over end to-clang aside from nothingness that suddenly glowed to match Blackgult's Dwaer, as the regent muttered hasty incantations and crouched, dragging Flaeros around almost behind him.
That barrier shone brighter as a quickening hail of weapons were flung against it, falling away amid flashes of tortured magic. Then Blood-blade's armaragors reached the floor beneath the two men and stabbed upward, springing up with grunts of effort to hack and thrust-and fall back with startled cries of pain, as blue fire surged down their blades to wash over them, leaving them staggering or falling.
"'There they are," Embra murmured. "Farewell to our shield." Raulin and Tshamarra followed her gaze, to where men with scaled heads and forked tongues had appeared around the edges of the riven ceiling, to gaze down on the battle from the galleries above.
"Raulin," the Lady Overduke added with some urgency, "take this back." She boosted him under one elbow to raise the shield as swiftly as possible as he fumbled it aloft, over their heads.
A moment later, green fire crashed down on them, and Tshamarra snarled between clenched teeth as she stumbled bruisingly back into the bard, fighting off the Serpent-spell with a hasty magic of her own.
"Uhh," she groaned, panting for breath as the green fire faded, "I-haven't much magic left, Lady… if you can source more lightnings for us both… that might be a… good idea about now…"
"But of course," Embra said with a grin. "Let there be lightnings once more!"
"Are you always," Raulin said in disbelief, "so crazily cheerful in battle?"
Embra winked at him without halting her fast-muttered incantation, but Tshamarra said with a smile, "I begin to believe it's expected of heroes, friend Raulin. Gods, what a slaughter!"
A moment later, three faces tightened in unison as Embra's magic tugged at the enchantment on the shield, started to drain it-and power surged through them, snarling forth as lightnings. The Lady Overduke spread her fingers and sent her bolts up at the Serpent-priests-more than a dozen of them now, their own hands moving in spellcastings as they stood glaring down at her.
Tshamarra lashed them with lightnings, too, as Raulin stood holding the swiftly shrinking shield. Bolt after bolt flashed out, to crack and hum and sear its way across scaled flesh, and more than one snake-man stiffened or convulsed ere falling with smoke rising from their scales.
The clang of swords meeting in anger off to the right heralded the breaching of Blackgult's barrier, perhaps simply overwhelmed by so much vigorously plied steel, but neither sorceress dared spare time to look. They could hear Hawkril growling as he swung his warsword in great slashing strokes, and that was reassurance