The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [29]
"Put me down," the damp bundle on the armaragor's shoulder hissed. "Down, bebolt you! I…"
Her words broke off in a little scream as something leathery flapped through a sodden tress of her hair, squeaking.
"I didn't catch that last comment," her carrier rumbled, sounding more angry than amused. "Now stop struggling, or I may have no choice about dropping you onto some tombstones."
His burden gave another little shriek as his boots slipped on wet stone, and Hawkril caught his balance with a jerk. That had been a true misstep, not a little lesson to the lady on his shoulder-and if she thought otherwise, what booted it?
They had real concerns to think dark and worried thoughts about. Behind them, down the hill, someone snapped orders, and they heard the creakings of men in armor hastening. A small army of men hurrying. Men of Silvertree, hunting to slay; Hawkril growled.
Bats swooped and flitted, trailing tiny squeakings. Craer moved on like a surefooted shadow, but the armaragor, laden by his wet and furious burden and a swinging sack of gems that bumped at his thigh with every step, stumbled and then stumbled again.
The inevitable time arrived when his boots came down on loose stone and slipped. In a moment, Hawkril's arms were empty, gems spilling in a clattering torrent into the darkness in one direction and the Lady Embra, with a startled gasp, in another.
She landed hard on a tablelike tomb and bounced on the slab, bruising both elbows and knocking her head on weathered stone. Her curses, once she'd drawn breath enough to utter them, were so hot and swift that the fearful armaragor fled into the night.
Embra Silvertree spun around to face her father's forces, scrambled to her scraped and bleeding knees, and lifted both hands. Well, graul if the stupid mages hadn't conjured another nightwyrm-and another leech spirit, too!
The spell that howled out of her then shattered the stones of the arch, driving their shards right through the diving bulk of the nightwyrm in a deadly spray. It perished not even having time to scream.
Bubbling forth bloody froth, its rent, headless body flailed and spasmed in midair before tumbling to the ground, tearing apart the leech spirit it crashed through by overwhelming the leech with the very life essence the spirit sought.
Embra watched the glowing, thrashing deaths with her lips a tight white line of anger. Wincing and ducking through all she'd wrought, of course, the Silvertree armaragors came stumbling, loyal and determined, waving wet swords and looking grim. Whatever magic might roar and flash, it always came down to thickheaded warriors, didn't it?
Embra suddenly found herself trembling. She felt weak and sick again-and she was using up her magic much too fast. Three mages to defy, and defeat, all of them no doubt stronger than she… and certainly more ruthless and cunning. Time to run again, andShe clambered down off the slab, slipped on her own unseen gems, and realized she stood alone. Where was that ox of an armaragor?
She was spitting curses too swiftly now to even recall his name, but his face came to mind easily enough, and that was all she needed.
The Lady of Jewels snarled a spell that jerked Hawkril Anharu around in midstride. He almost fell, but cruelly surging forces were burning and tugging at his thews. He could not even curse as unseen hands forced him to turn abruptly around. Fires seemed to rage inside him, and he found himself staggering back to where the sorceress stood, a sudden prisoner in his own body.
Embra glared at the trembling warrior. Hawkril's face was white with fear and tight with fury that only her iron control kept in check, but the ripplings of his muscles and his awkward stride told of his struggle against her magic. He extended his arms stiffly, and she sat into his grasp, not needing to look to know just how close the foremost soldiers were.
A moment later, the armaragor