R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

“Thus, Thalasi departed with the cursed hundred. He named them ‘talons’ after himself, an arrogant act that hinted at some of the events to come. North they marched and then west to the sea where the wizard wrought Talasdun, bastion of darkness.”

Del recalled the castle he had seen in the mountains. Somehow his vision now was clearer than it had been through the fog, as if Calae’s empathy had enhanced the image to a point more distinct than reality. He saw in his mind black battlements iron strong, and awesome towers spiraling to the sky, extensions of the very strength of the rock mountain in which they rooted. And Del felt, strongest of all, the pervading evil that bound the place together, a force that was still very much alive. A shudder shook the vision from him.

“There Thalasi bred his army, and quickly indeed do talons breed and mature,” Calae continued. “And time mattered little, for the Colonnae had bestowed upon the Four the gift of long years. Thalasi could have spent centuries preparing an army that would have swept everything away before it, but his thirst for power overcame his patience. A mere century after the forging of Talas-dun, Thalasi, the Black Warlock, led the mutants back to Calva.

“The talons could not hope to defeat the more numerous Calvans in open battle, but Thalasi counted on surprise to carry him through to Pallendara. He knew that if he could get to the city and overthrow the Overlord quickly, the scattered hamlets of the plains would not organize against him. And in his arrogance, Thalasi believed the two remaining wizards to be no match for him. Yet the Calvans were not caught unaware. The second of the Four, kindly Rudy Glendower, had privately questioned Thalasi’s motives when the mutants had first been led away. Ever the wary guardian of peace, Glendower anticipated the eventual return of Thalasi and had always kept one eye toward Talas-dun. With his warnings, then, the Calvans had time to assemble a great force. They charged westward across the fields to meet the invaders at the great river Ne’er Ending. Thalasi’s army came on only to find the four bridges that spanned the river blocked by the Calvan force. Ever merciful, the Calvans offered peace, ordering the talons to return to their mountain homeland and demanding Thalasi as a prisoner. But Thalasi’s years of torment had worked wickedly on his charges, and the self-named Black Warlock truly believed himself invincible. Even with the plans for surprise ruined, he attacked. The ferocity of his army was great and at first they drove hard into the Calvan ranks, but Glendower and Perrault, the third wizard, managed to keep Thalasi’s enchantments at bay while the Calvan wave countered, smashing and scattering their ill-bred foes.”

A second image blossomed in Del’s mind as Calae imparted to him the scenes of that fierce battle. The armies clashed upon four arcing stone bridges spanning a shining silver river, though the water steadily reddened with the blood of fallen combatants.

The sheer savagery of the talons appalled Del. With total disregard for their own lives, they launched themselves at the Calvan spearmen, thrashing wildly with their short swords, biting and gouging. They swept through the first ranks, overwhelming the civilized men with demonic ferocity, and pushed their foes back to the end of the bridges. But as the monsters came on, not just killing, but goring and mutilating the men caught in their savage rush, the Calvans, too, turned ugly. Faces twisted in rage, they surged into the mutant throng, matching the talon brutality blow for blow. The defined lines of the opponents disappeared as the battle became an entwined cluster of slashing swords and thrusting spears, and soon the howls of fury were drowned out by screams of agony. Several times man and mutant, grappling in mortal combat, fell from a bridge to the mighty river below. Even then they continued their frenzied struggle, though it meant that neither could escape watery death in the powerful current.

Attrition gradually thinned the smaller mutant force, and as the outcome became obvious, the vision faded from Del’s view. Sweat stung his eyes. He looked to his companions, and their stunned expressions told him they had also witnessed the horror of the struggle.

“Thalasi was thrown down that day and believed killed,” Calae continued when the men regained their composure. “But evil does not die so easily, and the spirit of Morgan Thalasi lurks ever in Aielle, with patience bitterly learned, awaiting a second chance.

“The treachery of Thalasi tolled heavily on the Calvans. Many men died at the Battle of the Four Bridges, and those who survived carried and passed on to their children scars of suspicion and fear. Thus, the new race of man lost its innocence and its trust. And thus it remains today.” Calae paused, his eyes downcast. Obviously, Thalasi’s deceit weighted heavily on him, too.

“This is not the end of my tale,” he continued after a few seconds. “The Battle of the Four Bridges was a long, long time ago. Ten years after the battle, there was born in Pallendara a second mutation of man. Unlike the talons, these children were very beautiful and their joyous smiles curled upward unblemished by evil. Yet the untrusting Calvans were ever wary, and grew fearful as more mutated babes were born. Though these children had committed no wrongs, a time of prejudice and unwarranted anger overtook the city. Once again the council of Pallendara’s lords and the two remaining wizards convened.

“Enduring are the scars of Thalasi’s deceit, and enduring are the tests of the One. With the second mutation, the character of man came to trial again.

“Never has the Citadel of Justice known such a travesty,” Calae declared. “The lord Umpleby, a wretched, gluttonous man who had gained power through deceit, opposed any change, fearful that it might endanger his ill-gotten position. He demanded the deaths of the innocent babes, and his twisted beliefs were not without support among the truly frightened people.

“But Ben-rin, Overlord of the city, was a kinder man. ‘We kill no children,’ he commanded. ‘We have risen above the legacy of our heritage and are not murderers. The children will be watched, but no harm shall befall them!’ And so set was he in his belief that he welcomed no debate.

“Ben-rin’s compassion was admirable and his motives true, but disgusted and enraged by even the suggestion of murder, he had thrown aside due course of Calvan law and had overstepped the bounds of his title. No one man ruled Pallendara, however justified in his actions. There was then a great confusion in the Citadel, for more than the fate of the children had now come to trial. Lord Umpleby was quick to counter, his voice rising above the commotion. ‘Our Overlord,’ he hissed, ‘has declared himself Emperor!’ Ben-rin’s glare came cold and firm, but he knew at once that he had erred in his anger and he dared not command Umpleby to silence.

“Umpleby continued his assault on justice, his raving antics kindling the memories of anger and fear engraved by Thalasi and the first mutation. He knew that his only chance for victory was to entice the others to a level where rash emotions denied mercy. ‘Must I remind you of our past?’ he cried to them. ‘Might it be that you have forgotten the terror in our own streets?’ Angry shouts of agreement gathered about him. ‘My lords,’ he pleaded with mock concern, ‘can we ever wash the stain of blood from the stones of the Four Bridges? These freakish creatures might be worse! For the sake of all that we deem good, I demand their deaths!’

“Umpleby achieved his desired level of chaos. The furor split the council, pitting lord against lord in an angry debate that bordered on violence. Though the emotional tide swept against his cause, Ben-rin remained calm and resolute. ‘We shall kill no innocent children,’ he repeated. But Umpleby had swayed too many, and the Overlord’s edicts would not be enough.