(eng) Miles Cameron - Traitor Son 05 by The Fall of Dragons

Author:The Fall of Dragons [Dragons, The Fall of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Loomsack Mountain—Lady Tamsin

Tamsin had a hand to her throat. She looked old, with creases in her face that Gregario had never seen before; her skin appeared tight over her bones, and her hair fluttered around her face.

“Why are we still alive?” she asked.

Gregario watched the immensity of the black-brown dragon sailing off into the west against the leaden sky. The size of the dragon drew the eye like the beauty of the dawn.

He was having to force his body to breathe.

“Sweet Christ,” he said.

A hundred feet away, 1Exrech was faster to recover; a different blood chemistry and an immunity to some forms of fear powered him, and his cold, layered understanding leapt to the moment.

He directed his scent glands at 53Exrech, just a few paces away, her wing cases vibrating in agitation. In scent, he proclaimed:

Truth.

Justice.

Revelation of Falsehood.

End of Slavery.

She writhed, her legion almost at the tips of her enemy’s spears, and then she inhaled. No countercommand reached her; no uttering of her master’s mighty will.

She did not try to resist further. In a moment, her own scent glands echoed those of her former adversary, now her senior.

In their next inhalation, all the bogglins south of the Cohocton River changed sides.

High above, on Loomsack, both Tapio and Master Niko understood immediately.

“Now!” Tapio said.

Niko, the only allied magister who had not been directly in Ash’s path, threw a ripple of simple energy strikes down the mountain against the relatively defenceless wardens and bogglins still pressing east toward the ford. Their own casters rose to the challenge, shielding many, but again, the precision of Niko’s involvement allowed his castings to penetrate shields and then expand, a single strand of hermetical ops exploding into hundreds of deadly filaments.

“I must keep the rest for shields,” he said.

The irk knights whose mounts were able to move leapt down the hill; the charge was pitiful compared to the might of their earlier attacks, but the creatures of the Wild at the foot of the mountain were rudderless, demoralized, and had just had windrows of death carved through their ranks, leaving only desperate islands of safety around their shamans. Hukas Helli alone held his people together in a great shield wall, but Tapio left them on his shield side and carved his way through easier prey, and his tired knights simply widened the road made by Master Niko and his choir of magisters, and the survivors of the allied right wing pushed tired muscle to the limit, running north, away from the river and the road, and following Tapio.

Niko and his choir were almost last, covered by Bill Redmede and a dozen Jacks, their bows useless, all their arrows spent, their swords and axes in their hands, but the sounds of fighting had died away. The sun was high; in the east, bells would be ringing the hour for ten. The bogglins were as exhausted as the Jacks; the enemy wardens stood in ranks, their crests deflated, and watched the last survivors of the allied rear guard pass through their lines with weary indifference.

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