Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [75]
Two Firbolgs stood before Tristan, but the unicorn’s charge knocked one flat. The tough horn turned the creature’s chest into a splintered mass of blood and bone. Tristan ducked under the blow of the other Firbolg and drove his potent blade upward.
With a blood-curdling scream, the Firbolg swooned backward and died.
For a brief moment the prince paused in wonder. He had slain a Firbolg with a single blow! Then, another of the monsters charged toward him, and he raised his guard.
A flash of brown crossed the periphery of his vision, and Canthus led the hounds into the fight. At the same time, a shrieking black shadow dove from the skies to scratch at the eyes of another Firbolg. Crying shrilly, Sable rose quickly to make another attack.
“Hey, you guys!” The high-pitched voice, Tristan know, could only belong to Newt. Sure enough, the little dragon popped into view in the midst of the melee.
“Boy, I sure played a trick on them! Did you see the way they rolled around and stabbed the air and looked so silly? I laughed so hard I could hardly stay invisible!” Newt clasped his forepaws, almost as if he were applauding himself, which he probably was.
“Thanks, little friend!” said Tristan. I thought I detected your… unique touch!”
“Look!” Robyn cried, pointing to the rest of the Firbolgs. They saw that Newt’s enchantment was wearing off. Although groggy, the Firbolgs were looking in stupefaction at the companions, standing among the dead bodies of their comrades.
“Run!” shouted the prince. “To the horses!”
As a group they bolted into the thicket. Daryth led the way, forcing his way through the woods to the small clearing where they had left the mounts.
The steeds, unharmed, nickered in welcome at their approach.
Tristan followed the party in the rear, keeping an eye on the Firbolgs. They seemed not entirely recovered, and he guessed – at least he hoped – that they would not be able to organize a pursuit for several minutes yet.
The companions mounted quickly, thankful that they had brought extra horses. They turned to ride from the area when the building behind them shuddered and groaned. Smoke billowed heavily from the door they had emerged from. The ground shook with the force of a heavy crash, and suddenly the smoke blossomed from the top of the temple.
“The roof is collapsing!” shouted Keren. “Look!”
The smoke trails emerging from the door immediately reversed course as a tremendous cloud rose into the air. The fire built to a roaring intensity as its air supply improved. They heard a tremendous sucking noise as air was pulled into the building, feeding the flames.
The force of the sucking draft uprooted small bushes, and created a forceful wind. Orange flames towered into the sky.
This fire would burn for a long time.
*****
Kazgoroth sensed the presence of the huge shape as it passed far below the surface of the sea. The Beast could feel the massive body rising – could sense the awesome might of its attack, as it rose toward the fleet. Kazgoroth even guessed, correctly, which longship would be the creature’s first victim.
In the guise of Thelgaar, the Beast had led the fleet of longships from Iron Bay on a journey south, along the coast of Gwynneth. The heavy rams had indeed proved troublesome, as three ships had foundered in moderate seas during the voyage. Now, however, Kazgoroth knew that the potent enchantments laid on the beams would give them their only chance of dealing with the leviathan.
The massive creature erupted from the water like lava from a volcano. One entire ship, and fifty men, met an instant end between the crushing jaws. As the huge shape, bigger than anything living in the world, crashed back to the water, another longship capsized from the monstrous waves.
“To your oars!” the figure of Thelgaar bellowed, from the bow of his longship. Somehow the voice carried clearly across the churning sea, to the ears of every northman in the fleet. And