The Brega Path (Silver Call Duology 2) by Dennis L. McKiernan

Author:Dennis L. McKiernan
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781605484716
Publisher: Books In Motion
Published: 2009-11-15T06:00:00+00:00

The Sun climbed high and passed overhead, and warriors rested. Two hours ere sunset, Wylf rode into the quiet encampment. He sat in the afternoon Sun, basking in its warmth as Brytta slept. Wylf spoke to one of the warders, and in the Valonian War-tongue the companion told the tale of the Krakenward, the Rutchen spies, and the battle in the defile; and Wylf listened grimly, and his eyes took on a steely glint.

In foredusk, the camp awakened, and a quick meal of waybread and dried venison was taken, and the horses were gathered from the sward downslope. And warriors girded themselves for what the eventide would bring.

Night fell, and again the devastating trap was set, ready to spring shut should Spawn come. This time the Vanadurin posted a bowman upon each wall of the defile, to stop Wrg from fleeing that way; yet Brytta thought that this was latching the stable after the stallion has fled, for it yet burned within him that perhaps a Drokh had escaped to carry word to Gnar, to the great ill of the quest—a Drokh that he, Brytta, should have slain; and the Marshal again glanced with bitterness at his broken hand.

The darktide deepened, and stars wheeled above. Again the Moon shone silvery, full and bright. And the warriors spoke quietly of the Dusk-Door and wondered if it would open, for this was the night.

Time crept by at a slow-moving gait, and each moment seemed frozen in stillness.

Yet of a sudden the twelfth hour was upon the land. Now was the time for King Durek to say the words of opening. Silent moments fled and mid of night passed, and Brytta yearned to know what befell at the Door, and his heart felt taut with foreboding. And again time plodded.

Suddenly the bowman upon the south steep shouted in wonderment: “Ai-oi!” he cried, his voice loud in the hush. “Sire!” he called to Brytta, “at the Great Loomwall in the Valley of the Door, a balefire flares!”

“What? Balefire? At the Dusk-Door?” cried Brytta. “A recall beacon! Spawn! Or does it mean the Door opened? If so, was the Host met by friend or foe? Or have the Wrg fallen upon them from another gate? Fie! Whether or not we knew the which of it, it is of no moment, for we must ride!”

And Brytta sprang to Nightwind’s back and raised his horn to his lips and blew a mighty blast that rent the air. And Nightwind reared and pranced and curvetted with sidle-steps, eager to answer the Valonian hight to arms. And Brytta called to the Vanadurin: “Mount up, Harlingar, and ride! Ride to the Dusk-Door! Let any who fall behind come at their own pace, for we are summoned! Forth, Harlingar, ride!”

And he clapped his heels into Nightwind’s flanks, and down the shadowed road they sprang, hooves thundering, horn pealing, racing through the moonlit night. And so went all the Vanadurin, bursting forth from Stormhelm Defile, sparks flying from steel-shod hooves. And the fierce horns of Valon blew wildly.

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