Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [25]
Black shapes poured out of the doors. They rolled down the sides of the citadel, dropping off the base and joining the shower of jagged obsidian. When they landed on the ground, they did not shatter-they unfurled.
Like men, they stood on two legs. But that is where the similarities ended. Their skin resembled the broken bits of obsidian littering the ground-smooth, shiny, and pitch black. Tufts of course black hair covered their bodies in patches. Their heads were long and thin; teeth like those of a wild boar; hands covered in spiky bone and long sharp obsidian claws; eyes, light blue circles against huge pure black pupils; hooves in place of feet; and long thin tails with wicked-looking barbs at their tips.
"May Helm have mercy on my soul," whispered the captain.
That was all he had time to say. The foul beasts pounced upon the front row of cavalry, sinking their teeth into soldier and mount alike. The sounds of bodies breaking and flesh being torn from bone wafted out into the plain. The screams of dying men and horses echoed under the obsidian citadel.
The cascade of black beasts from the floating mountain grew. The creatures poured down on the heads of the king's army. The soldiers' swords broke their peace bonds, but they rarely had time to do much else. The creatures were swift and merciless. They tore into the cavalry with the vigor of hungry dragons. And as quickly as the rain of death started, it ended.
All five hundred men in the unit lay dead, dismembered, or pulverized. Their mounts lay with them, many resembling little more than wrinkled shreds of flesh and mingled piles of intestine, stomach, and broken bone. The field was muddy from the dirt mixing with the puddles of blood.
The beasts let out a cacophony of satisfied wails, then piled atop one another, building a ladder out of their bodies until they could reach the citadel's base with their razor claws. Climbing over each others' backs, moving as one, they scrambled back up into the open archways, leaving their carnage behind.
When the last of them had returned from whence they came, the stone doors swung closed, their heavy grinding signaling the answer of the Lord of the Obsidian Ridge.
Chapter Eight
The long journey back to Llorbauth from Duhlnarim was finally over. It had been early morning when the Claw left Klarsamryn, but he returned in total darkness.
Though inconveniently timed, the information he'd retrieved from Captain Beetlestone would be of great use in his fight against the Elixir trade. But right now, the king's assassin was preoccupied with the gigantic floating volcano perched over Llorbauth and the developing plot against the king's life.
A row of low hedges had been planted just outside the southern edge of the palace. The groundskeeper, in her infinite wisdom, had placed them several strides away from the building, so they had room to grow and mature. After almost ten years, the hedges were still considered young. Though they were not very tall, they were quite full, and the space between them and the palace gave the Claw easy, unobserved access to and from the courtyard where he nightly met the princess.
Tonight was just like most other nights. The outer buildings that surrounded their rendezvous were shut up tight. The spring air was warm, and the new blossoms on the trees filled the courtyard with their sweet fragrance-a romantic place for a late night meeting.
Coming around the corner, the Claw passed the tall statue of Mariko's mother, the queen. She was posed with an open book in her hands, looking down at the pages. Every time he came into the courtyard, the Claw couldn't help but think that she was watching him. He wondered sometimes whether or not she would approve of his rendezvous with the princess.
Slipping past the statue, he entered the courtyard and made his way to