Mary Herbert - City of Sorcerers

“In the name of Sorh, Lord of the Realm of the Dead, Commander of the Harbingers, Ruler of Gormoth, and Reaper of Souls, I command you to hold!”

Bitorn hesitated out of sheer surprise. The force of old habits stirred in his mind, and he slowly lowered his staff. “Who dares speak to me of Lord Sorh?”

“I do!” Priest Ordan stepped from the crowd in a position that forced Bitorn to turn around. Unseen by the grim giant, Athlone and Eurus slipped into the clearing and joined Gabria.

“Fool!” Bitorn hissed to Ordan. “How can a doddering old bootlicker know more of Lord Sorh than I?”

Ordan glared ferociously, his white eyebrows lowered in annoyance. “I know he is angry! You have betrayed his trust, priest! You slaughtered innocent people to feed your own greed for life. You have flung your arrogance in the god’s face by refusing your own death. You must die, Bitorn, before the god wreaks his awful vengeance on your eternal soul!” The old priest marched up to the towering man, snatched Bitorn’s priestly staff from the ground, and broke it at the man’s feet.

There was not even a flicker of fear or hesitation on Bitorn’s face. His booming laugh flung away Ordan’s warning, and the contemptuous wave of his hand knocked the old priest to the ground. “I do not fear the gods. The only vengeance here will be mine! The evil of magic will be destroyed once and fot all!”

“Not this time!” Lord Fiergan’s voice roared out. The big chieftain kicked his horse forward and rode between the fallen priest and Bitorn. “We don’t want your hatred any more. We’ve had enough of it! Go back to your mound and rot!”

“Magic lovers!” Bitorn spat out the words like a curse. He raised his hands to the mass of people crowded among the tents and said, “Are there none left among you who despise the evil of magic? Have you all fallen into the pits of deceit and wickedness?”

An eloquent silence met his question. Then, suddenly Fiergan raised his sword and bellowed the Reidhar war cry. It was answered by over a thousand voices from every clan in a tremendous roar that shattered the afternoon and swept down the valley on the wind. A mass of mounted men and warriors on foot surged forward to attack the giant.

At the same moment, Gabria, Athlone, and the eight magic-wielders with them dissolved their shield and loosed a furious barrage of magic at the priest’s chest. Demira glided out of the smoke, and her rider added her own bolts to the intense assault.

Bitorn staggered under the combined blows, and Fiergan and the clan warriors leaped in with spears, swords, and battle-axes. They slashed at the backs of the priest’s knees and ankles in an effort to cut his tendons and bring him down. His blood spattered the ground and the warriors.

The pain and the magic enraged Bitorn into a frenzy. Screaming incoherent oaths, he swung his staff right and left at the warriors swarming around him. He crushed three Khulinin warriors underfoot and trampled more until the men were forced away. Bitorn stood back and looked wildly around for the next target.

His eyes caught sight of Demira flying overhead. Before Kelene could understand what was happening, Bitorn’s energy-hungry soul drained the life-force from the dead men under his feet and used it to double his body size once again. All at once he was as tall as a cottonwood tree, and his hand shot out and grabbed the filly in midair.

Kelene screamed as she felt the merciless fingers close around them. A thick, heavy pressure surrounded her and pressed her down onto Demira’s neck. The filly, neighing in fright, struggled desperately to escape the cruel grip.

Kelene knew she had to do something fast before Bitorn crushed them like he would a fly, but before she could initiate a spell, something odd began to happen. Without conscious direction, her empathic talent began to sense the priest’s emotions. The sensations were faint at first, then as the mental channel strengthened, the full force of his feelings hit her like a storm. Rage was the strongest, a tempestuous, uncontrollable rage that buffeted her with maniacal strength. Underneath that was hatred and contempt like two poisonous twins, and somewhere, buried in the maelstrom, was a little thread of fear.

The last one surprised Kelene. What did Bitorn have to be afraid of from a bunch of weak, half-sick, overworked magic-wielders and a mob of people one-eighth his size? She sent her mind probing swiftly after that tendril of fear, deeper into the priest’s turbulent emotions.

The answer that she found stunned her with its simple truth. She knew from the Korg that the life-force energy was similar to magic, but she hadn’t realized that Bitorn, like a magic-wielder, could only use as much power as his own strength would allow. Since the dying had all but stopped at the gathering, the wraith had been unable to go to his burial mound and rejoin his body until just a short while ago. The union had taken a great deal of his strength. He was still comparatively weak to handle the vast amounts of energy he needed to attack the magic-wielders and all eleven clans. That was why he was taking action that was more defensive than offensive. He didn’t have enough strength to deal with such a large number of people. Maybe he hadn’t expected so many to come after him, or perhaps his blind anger simply wouldn’t let him wait until he was stronger. Whatever his reasons, Kelene knew he was overextending his power.

She only had a moment or two to sift through the jumbled impressions of his mind before he changed his grip on Demira and began to squeeze tighter. But those precious moments were just enough for her new knowledge to spark an idea. All she had to do was survive long enough to tell her parents.

Desperately Kelene shaped a spell to form a shield around herself and Demira. At her command the red energy coalesced into a skintight shell between the horse and rider and the giant’s hand.

Bitorn swore furiously. He brought both hands around his prey and tried to crush them in his fingers. Kelene closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and held on to her spell with all her might. She and Demira could hardly breathe beneath the shell and the heavy weight of the giant’s hand. Kelene gasped for air. She grew dizzy and feared she might black out and lose control of her spell.

Then all at once Bitorn let go of her with one hand and began to swing his staff again. Kelene opened her eyes and saw on the ground below that the clan warriors led by Lord Fiergan and Sha Tajan had renewed their attack on the priest.

Kelene breathed a prayer of thanks for the distraction.

Bitorn still had one hand wrapped around Demira, but he was too busy defending himself to turn his attention back to his prisoners. Kelene rapidly formed another spell. In a flash of motion, she dissolved her shield and sent a white-hot bolt of fire into Bitorn’s palm.

The priest yelled in pain. Shocked and furious, he flung the winged horse toward the earth.

Demira never had a chance to right herself. The force of Bitorn’s throw tumbled her over upside down. Her shrill neigh and Kelene’s scream blended into one cry of terror.

The young sorceress thought she heard a familiar voice call her name, but it was lost in the sickening, tumbling fall toward the earth. She saw the ground below spinning up to crush her, and her heart cried out to the one she loved and would never see again. “Rafnir!”

Incredibly, her plea was answered with a platform of air that formed beneath and caught Demira just before she and Kelene smashed into the ground. She bounced once on the invisible cushion and settled slowly on her side to the earth just a few steps away from the group of magic-wielders.

Demira scrambled to her feet, shaken and ruffled but unhurt, and a hand was thrust out to Kelene to help her stand. It took a heartbeat before she realized the hand was Rafnir’s. She was on her feet and in his arms before her heart had a chance to beat again. Savaron was there, too, on his exhausted Hunnuli, and Sayyed, looking wan but alive with his white cat on his shoulder, and Morad, dusty and tired. They had to have ridden like Turic raiders to get there so soon. Kelene hugged them all, happier than she had ever been.