The Battle for the Brightstone by Paul B. Thompson

Author:Paul B. Thompson [Thompson, Paul B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4645-1170-7
Publisher: Enslow Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

FLEET FORMED

Harlano’s young ally lunged at Mikal. Leaping to one side, Mikal heard the knife scrape stone. Crimson cut back at him. Mikal felt the slightest touch, like a blade of grass against his skin. Next thing he knew blood was running down his cheek. He slid down the wall, stunned by his sudden injury. Laughing, Crimson closed in.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Crimson turned around in time to receive a solid whack from Lyra wielding a length of wood. He staggered under the blow but brought his knife up. She caught him on the wrist. Crimson’s knife spun away in the fire-streaked darkness.

Mikal called her name. “Get up,” she said. “Why are you sitting there? There’s trash to clean up!”

Holding his wrist, Crimson smiled at Lyra. “You don’t want to hurt me,” he said warmly. “Look at me, girl.”

She looked and swung her stick in a wide arc. Crimson leaped aside. If she had connected, she would have broken his ribs.

Crimson sidled away. His glamor spell wasn’t working this time. When it failed, there was always force. He cast about for his knife, but Lyra stood by, smacking her stick on the palm of her hand. With a quick smile, Crimson bowed and ran for the gate. Lyra let him go with a few choice insults hurled at his back.

Mikal found Orry, lying on his side by the wall. Carefully brushing off ashes and dirt, he tucked his old friend under his arm.

Lyra said, “You well?”

Blood was drying on his face. His rib wound stung, but Mikal decided it was not poison making it feel that way, just sweat.

“I’ll live.”

The hired guards had laid down their arms. The beast-soldiers of the Fifth Regiment rounded them up and made them kneel in a circle, their hands on their heads.

Killeen came down from the wall. She barked at Obray the bird-man.

“The enemy has fled!” Obray declared. “Form ranks! Back to the barracks!”

The surrendered guards carried off wounded fighters. By now, the center of Harlano’s villa was in flames. Because the mansion was largely made of stone and tile, only the rafters and furnishings burned. As the soldiers lined up to leave, the fire-wint appeared on the roof, bathed in flames.

Killeen barked a warning. Humans and beast-men alike took up bows and riddled the creature with arrows. (Mikal learned why the arrows didn’t catch fire. They were metal. Even the fletching was thin brass.) Reeling from more than a dozen hits, the fire-wint toppled backward into the flames.

“Will it die?” asked Obray.

Mikal couldn’t say. Fire wouldn’t hurt it, but how could it survive with all those arrows in its hide?

Roasting by the burning house, everyone quit the courtyard. Outside the wall, the night was cool and dark. A sea breeze blew the smoke away, leaving the taste of salt on their lips.

Killeen’s comrades let the hired guards go. Before they left, Mikal asked their leader if he knew where Harlano had gone.

The tough old captain spat at the mention of his employer.

“Fury take him!

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