Winged Magic

16

The horns sounded again, although Kelene did not hear it that time, on the heights of the caravan road above the valley. Pure and sweet and powerful as the north wind, their music rolled down the dale and washed over the city wall. Those on the battlements and in the towers heard the horns and hesitated. Those on the ground locked in the wild melee could not hear the song over the clash of weapons, the frenzied shouts of fighting men, and the screams of the dying.

But Afer heard it. His great head went up and his ears swept forward. He neighed a trumpeting call over the noise of the fighting. They come! he cried to all who could understand.

Sayyed and the warriors of the Clannad took heart and passed the word to the Turics. “The clans are coming!”

High on the fortifying wall men shouted, and several horns blew a warning. Surprised, the Gryphon’s army hesitated and drew back a step to see what was causing the uproar. Nearly everyone who could snatched that pause to look out through the gaping holes in the wall.

A dark line of horsemen stretched across the valley, coming at a breakneck gallop. The sun glittered on their spears. Their numbers were obscured by the dust that billowed up from the horses’ pounding hooves, but Zukhara’s forces did not need to count. The colorful banners of the clan chieftains in the forefront and the four black Hunnuli horses in the lead were enough to make them blanch.

“Back!” bellowed Mohadan to his men. “Get out of the way!”

Frantically the Kirmaz and the Clannad grabbed their horses and their wounded and scrambled to get out of the way of the charging clan werods. The Fel Azureth pulled back too, and rallied their men to barricade the streets.

Abruptly the air reverberated with the heart-stopping war cries of all eleven clans. The ground trembled under the hooves of the horses. With lightning precision, the line lowered its spears and split into three groups, one for each breach, and pounded through the gaps in the city wall. Lord Athlone and Rafnir led the horsemen through the ruined gateway and smashed head-on into the defenders’ lines. The Fel Azureth could not hold. Although the clansmen were fewer in numbers and weary from days of relentless travel, their ferocity and momentum carried them irresistibly over the enemy. The spears gave way to swords and battle-axes, and the battle was joined.

Mohadan gave a shout to his men, and the Kirmaz plunged back into the fight. The Clannad, weary from the magic they had wielded, followed close behind.

Many of the Gryphon’s volunteers broke and ran under the combined assault of tribesmen and clansmen, but the trained fanatics of the Fel Azureth had their master’s orders: hold the city at all costs. They begrudgingly fell back before the werods and the Turic loyalists. They regrouped, fought, and regrouped again, struggling against every step they took backward. Yet even they could not withstand the power of the clan sorcerers for long. Backed by the riders of the Clannad, Lord Athlone, Rafnir, Gaalney, Morad, and Sayyed pounded their way slowly but steadily up the streets of Cangora toward the Shar-Ja’s palace.

Helmar rode with the clan sorcerers for a short while as the fighting swept into the streets; then gradually she began to fall back. A strange sense of fear and urgency settled in the pit of her stomach. She shot a look up the broad avenue that she knew led toward the palace. Lady Gabria was up there—a woman she had never met, but the only woman left in the entire population of clanspeople who was of direct lineage to the Corin Clan. She was also a link in the tragedy of the Purge that had massacred so many magic-wielders. To Helmar, that link was vitally important.

She glanced up the road again. The clansmen were moving steadily closer to the palace, but not fast enough.

Someone should get there faster in case Zukhara panicked and disposed of his prisoners. A shadow swept over the ground, and she saw the gryphon winging toward the upper levels of the city where the palace lolled at the feet of the massive stone bastion.

Demira, Helmar remembered. Where is Demira?

“Marron, can you call the winged mare? Is she close?”

There. She is above the walls, responded the white mare. She follows the gryphon.

Helmar followed Marron’s directions and saw Demira not too far away. “Call her! Tell her I need her! Please, my beauty. She can carry me above the fighting to Kelene and Gabria.”

Marron understood and obeyed. She neighed a pealing call that reached over the battle and caught Demira’s ear.

Helmar cast an apologetic glance at Sayyed, who was fighting by Lord Athlone’s side, and swiftly ducked Marron down a side alley that was momentarily clear.

No one saw her go but Rapinor. Startled by her abrupt departure, he turned his horse to follow. From out of an open window, a man leaned out with a cocked crossbow and fired it wildly into the struggling men below. The swordsman, intent on following his chief, did not see the quarrel until it embedded in his chest. He looked down at it, feeling rather silly, and slowly toppled from his stricken Hunnuli.

Helmar went on, unaware of Rapinor’s fate. She and Marron found an open square wide enough for Demira to land. As soon as the mare touched down, Helmar explained what she wanted. Demira’s reply was immediate. The chief climbed onto her back, grabbed a handful of mane, and held on while Demira cantered forward into her take-off.

Marron watched the direction they went. Helmar had not told her to stay or go, so she scudded after them like a cloud blown on a stormy wind.