Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [37]
By the looks of it, they had no intention of fighting fair.
Still, the harrowing flight path had not paid off. Tith Tilendrothael's scouts had magically sensed the presence of the rock in the cloud and had called forth the cavalry. Long before it reached the enemy enclave, Lhaoda would be besieged by four hundred top aerial cavalry. This would be a full-scale, all-out attack. The city would be strafed until it turned back or surrendered.
For whatever reason, the Lhaodagms had shattered the relative peace of centuries, and they in turn would be shattered.
Stay sharp. They'll have fliers, too. The rain will help us-mask us, keep them from looking up, thought Josiah as he drew a slender wand from his belt. His free hand ran through his hair, and he smiled in anticipation.
Peregrin's eyes scraped the darkness below. In the belly of the cloud, a vast monster of rock and magic slowly took shape. Staving spikes glittered darkly along the edges of the floating city. War rams bristled, thick as thistles. Buildings honeycombed the sloping brow of the flying citadel. Magic threads of blue and orange and green cobwebbed the mountain. Rainwater drizzled from its edges in dim, brown cascades.
She might be half size, thought Peregrin, but she's plenty big, all the same. And fully armored.
When we're done with her, Josiah replied as he weaved sorcerous protections around them, she'll not be more than a smoldering coal in the sky. With that, he spoke an arcane word.
The stinging pelt of rain suddenly gave way to the scintillation of wards. Peregrin flexed his wings. A blue-green glow limned each feather. In the darkness, he seemed no longer a living being, but a sketchbook creature. The other griffons and their riders, one by one, also glowed with azure outlines.
Powerful sorceries crowded through Josiah's mind. Some of the alien words and gestures verged into Peregrin's thoughts. The griffon fought away the distraction. He focused instead on the target below.
As the city of Lhaoda struggled along in the streaming chaos, the storm uncoiled a scorpion tail of lightning. It struck the city's shields, crackled angrily, and broke through long enough to blast apart a twisted tower in the center of the enclave. Other blackened buildings smoldered from previous lightning strikes.
"Ready for raking fire," Josiah shouted aloud.
Peregrin understood. He swooped from his dive. The staving spikes and rams shone dead ahead.
A crackle of green power leapt from each of Josiah's hands, shrieked past Peregrin's ear slits, and whirled toward the city. The twin bolts thickened as they went and trailed coils of sulfuric smoke. They punched through the first invisible shell of protections. A flash brighter than lightning showed the point of impact. Ripples of sorcery moved in rings out from the spot. The bolts continued on. They popped twice more, in deeper layers of protection. The energies dissipated in crazy gyrations.
No single wizard could have shut down those defenses… but four hundred top mages…
Matching green bolts arced out all around. In hundreds of places, the spells cracked through the city's defensive shells. Emerald magics were still crashing into the shields as Peregrin flew through the breach Josiah had made.
Sharpened spikes skimmed by below. With each flap of Peregrin's wings, sheets of water broke against the spikes. The griffon himself soared over the rampart and slid into a long, low course over the city.
Though once splendid-with white spires, onion-shaped domes, red-tiled roofs, flying archways, ornamental gardens, and streets cobbled with something that looked like silver brick-the city had been 'sieged and sacked by the very storm that cloaked it. Fires stood in pillars across the skyline. Winds had