Salvatore, R.A - The Chronicles of Ynis Aielle 02 - The Witch's Daughter by Salvatore R.A

Author:Salvatore, R.A [Salvatore, R.A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, epic, Fiction, General, Occult & Supernatural, Fantasy fiction; American
ISBN: 9780345421920
Google: 1nXzdytXgmUC
Amazon: 0345421922
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 1991-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The Staff of Death

STILL ENCASED IN the body of a dragon, the Black Warlock slammed through the thick canopy of Blackamara, tearing vines and splintering limbs, and swooped down to the swamp’s muddy ground in a furious rush.

“Never again!” he roared, and the sound of his dragon voice echoed off the high cliff walls surrounding the swamp, shook the trees in Avalon to the south, and sent an alert running through the encampment of the elves who had gathered on the field of Mountaingate.

Then Thalasi walked as a man again, startled by his own outburst. He did not know how much strength Brielle had left to her, but he didn’t think it prudent to so blatantly announce his whereabouts. He stalked through the dark, twisting boughs, taking no heed of the snakes and poisonous spiders and darker things that roamed the gloom of the Blackamara night.

New trees did not grow in this swamp, and the fetid water rarely shifted. Little had changed in the twenty years since the Black Warlock had walked through here, and after a few minutes he began to recognize some of the paths. He followed their winding course up to the base of the high eastern wall, and then south a short distance. Bones of hundreds of victims, man and horse, who had fallen over the cliff during the infamous Battle of Mountaingate, littered the region, but the Black Warlock knew exactly where to look, and soon he had found the open grave of an old companion.

“Ah, Captain Mitchell,” he whispered, bending low to consider the skull and jumble of bones, relieved to find them fairly intact. Thalasi wanted to go after the spirit right then, to relieve his embarrassment over the defeat he had suffered by bringing forth the commander who would lead his army to victory. But little remained of the Black Warlock’s power; Brielle had taken everything he had to throw at her. He could not hope to cast such a powerful enchantment in his present state, and he realized that if he truly wished to regain his strength, the sun would rise and ride across to the western sky before he again opened his eyes.

“A curse upon that witch,” he spat, wondering how his talon army would fare throughout the next day without his guidance and protection. Would Brielle recover faster than he? And what of Istaahl; would the White Mage sense his absence and use the advantage to strike out against the wizardless army?

He shook the thoughts from his head. Even if the talons were scattered by the forces—magical and otherwise—of his enemies, the cost would be worth the gain. Thalasi knew now that he could not possibly hope to break through to the eastern fields without a trusted general guiding the movements of the army. “And you,” Thalasi growled, holding the skull up before his dark eyes, “shall be that general.”

And then he was off, back toward the very heart of Blackamara, which was manifested in the form of a gigantic black willow tree.

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