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By Root 1219 0

him. Of a bloodline born from the goddess herself, the male had always risen to meet any challenger. Now, he sensed, his reign had come to an end. Compelled by every instinct in him to fight, the wolf raced forward to meet the attacker. He leaped, but his jaws snapped on air as the great beast sprang from his path with astonishing quickness. Before he sprang clear, those awful jaws slashed against his foreleg, and the male felt pain lance from his leg to his heart. Knowing it was his last act, the wolf hurled himself at the enemy and fastened his powerful teeth in its stinking, shaggy flank.

But the enemy’s flesh resisted the teeth with the strength of steel, and before the male could break away, his neck was clasped by those drooling jaws. Mercilessly, those mighty jaws tightened their grip. The big male kicked weakly, and there was a sharp snap.

Erian flung the body aside with casual strength. His red eyes did not blink as he slowly circled, making sure that his gaze passed over each of the thousands of animals that returned his look. He compelled each of them to accept his mastery, and they did so without question.

Erian, Master of the Pack, could now begin to fulfill his destiny.

XIV

CORWELL ROAD

FINALLY KAZGOROTH JUDGED the fleet seaworthy enough to meet its fate at Corwell. Sails had been sewn, hulls patched, and the rams removed. Precious time had been lost, but the Beast hoped to reach Corwell within a few days. The delay need not prove fatal to the grand scheme.

The northmen left a dozen ships, or parts of them, behind as they sailed. These hulks, too badly damaged to repair, had been picked over for materials to repair the other ships and then abandoned to become driftwood.

The morning tide rushed away, pulling the throng of longships from the cove into the open sea. Scarcely a breath of wind arose, so Thelgaar ordered the men to the oars. Propelled by powerful strokes, the fleet resumed the journey to Corwell.

For a time, Kazgoroth wondered about the other army, Grunnarch’s command. The plan had been sound, if only that blustering old fool could execute it. Kazgoroth remembered, with hot pleasure, the corruption he had laid upon the Bloodriders. If the fiendish cavalry could find a way to strike the huge mass of humanity that must be fleeing the invasion, there was no telling how much their power would soar!

*****

“My prince! Wait!” A musical voice called for the prince’s attention. Turning, he looked back upon the column. Daryth, Pawldo, Keren, and Gavin rode abreast behind him. After them, in a double column, rode the Sisters of Synnoria, except for Aileen and another of the knights, who were scouting up the valley. Finally, also in pairs, marched sixty axe-wielding dwarves. Their short legs pumped steadily as they kept pace with the rest of the party.

The prince saw that Aileen, coming rapidly up on the rear of the column, galloped swiftly, gliding like a ghost along the side of the trail.

“We’ve done it!” she cried, her light voice carrying the length of the column. “They’re only now coming out of the ’Vale.”

A spontaneous cheer arose from the sister knights and the dwarves. Tristan himself raised his voice in a yell of triumph.

“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Daryth, with a grin.

“We’ll beat them to Corwell Road for certain!” agreed the prince. “But how do we stop them? I still don’t see a way that we can keep them from seizing the road and trapping the refugees.”

“What would Arlen have done?” asked Robyn quietly as she rode up behind them.

The prince suddenly recalled his teacher’s advice with a clarity that amazed him. “He always said to study the ground – to choose your fight carefully. Good terrain was worth an extra army!”

But now that he and his tiny force had succeeded in seizing this vantage, how could they hold it against the thousands of northmen?

Tristan considered the terrain of the broad river valley that opened into rolling farmland. If he took his force any farther, the prince realized, the raiders could easily out maneuver him among the open farmlands.

Calling the