“Away with you before I have you clapped in irons!”
Knowing he could do nothing to convince the noble otherwise, Jarod reined hard, forcing his mount away.
It was all that saved him.
The torrent that washed over Stareye and the others seared flesh and melted metal. In its death throes, Stareye’s night saber threw his sizzling body off. The noble landed in a monstrous heap, his arrogant features now a mangled horror nigh unrecognizable. His companions and guards fared little better; those that were not horridly slain lay twitching, their bodies ruined, their screams enough to chill the soul.
And Jarod could do nothing for them.
The Doomguard flew overhead all but untouched by the defenders. Sporadic fire from an archer here and there brought down a few, and some perished in manners that clearly had the touch of the Moon Guard on them, but there was no cohesive effort. Jarod found the lack of organization stunning, then recalled that Stareye had replaced all of his predecessor’s officers with his own sycophants.
More incomprehensible, there were even some elements of the night elf forces not yet in play. They anxiously stood by, awaiting commands that would never be given. Jarod realized that they did not know that Lord Stareye was dead and likely thought the noble would be calling upon them at any moment.
He quickly rode up to one contingent. The officer in charge saluted him.
“How many bows do you have?” Jarod asked.
“Threescore, captain!”
Hardly enough, but at least a start. “Get every bow set! I want them trained on those Doomguard now! The rest create a defensive square for them!”
The other night elf gave the order. Jarod looked around desperately for something else to use. Instead, another rider came racing up to him. The newcomer saluted in a manner that indicated immediately that Jarod was the first thing resembling an officer that he had seen.
“The wedge is flattened, the line barely holding by us!” He pointed behind himself to a location near the middle. “Lord Del’theon is dead and we’ve only a subofficer in charge! He sent me to find out someone to strengthen us!”
By this time, the troops that Jarod had taken over had already arranged themselves. Even as the captain considered what to do about the new problem, he saw almost a dozen Doomguard drop from the sky. It gave him a slight hint of hope, at least.
To the newcomer, he finally suggested, “Ride to the tauren! Tell them Captain Shadowsong asks of the people of Huln for some warriors to come with you and strengthen the wedge!” Jarod recalled something else, “Ask also for their their best archers…”
When he had finished, the other night elf, his own expression slightly less distraught, rode off to obey. Jarod barely had time to refocus his thoughts before two more came. The captain could only guess that he had been seen organizing resistance and that someone had foolishly believed he spoke in the name of the dead Stareye.
But despite knowing better, Jarod could not simply turn them away. He listened to their needs and battled to find some solution, however temporary.
To his surprise, one of the Moon Guard arrived shortly after. Although clearly one of the senior spellcasters, the robed figure looked relieved to confront Captain Shadowsong.
“The archers are slowing the damage the winged fiends have been causing! We’ve been able to reorganize, though three of our number are dead and two more are incapacitated! We are trying to deal with those above and the warlocks in the distance, but to do so we’ll need more protection!”
Jarod tried not to swallow. Hoping to avoid showing the sorcerer his uncertainty, he pretended to glance further down the left flank. There he saw several rows of soldiers milling about as they tried to reach the oncoming demons. The press of bodies in front of them prevented those in back from being of any benefit and, in fact, often shoved the ones ahead into the blades of their foe.
He pulled one soldier from the square. “You! Ride with him over there and take a squad from those ranks! Tell the rest to keep back a step and shore up the front lines as needed!”
On and on the demands came. They never allowed Jarod to catch his breath. There came a point when even the Earthen and the other allies began requesting his assistance. Jarod, never able to find someone of greater authority, ever answered their questions and prayed that he had not sent innocent lives to the slaughter.
At any moment, the captain expected to see the horde overwhelm his people, but somehow, the night elves held. The combined efforts of the Moon Guard and archers at last proved too decimating for the winged demons and they fled back, many still with the pots full. The host’s casualties had been high, but as matters quieted a little, Jarod hoped that something he had done had kept them from being higher yet.
When the captain finally had the opportunity to return to Rhonin, it was with half a dozen subordinates in tow. He had not asked for them; various officers in the host had insisted they stay with Jarod in case he needed to alert them to some need. The former Guard officer found their presence unsettling, for they treated him as if he were on par with either Ravencrest or Stareye. Jarod Shadowsong was no noble and certainly no commander; if the host had managed to recover from the near disaster, it was due mainly to the fighters themselves.
To his tremendous relief, the wizard was alive and untouched. Unfortunately, he still did not seem to see or hear anything despite looking as if awake.
Jarod tried once more to give him water, but to no avail. Frustrated, he turned to one of the soldiers and snapped, “Find me one of the senior Moon Guard! Hurry!”
Yet, it was not one of the sorcerers who came back with the rider, but rather a pair of figures clad in the armor of the Sisterhood of Elune. Worse, the senior priestess was none other than Maiev.
“When I was told that the officer in command needed a spellcaster, I never dreamed he was speaking of you, little brother!”
Captain Shadowsong had no time for his sister’s dominant tone. “Spare me the wit, Maiev! The wizard’s caught in some spell that I think one of the master demons cast! Can Elune help free him?”
She eyed him curiously for a moment, then knelt beside Rhonin. “I’ve never dealt with one of his kind, but I assume he’s similar enough to us that the Mother Moon will grant me the chance. Jia, assist me. We shall see what we can do.”
The second priestess stepped over to Rhonin’s other side. The two raised hands to chest level with the palms out, then pressed their fingertips together. The moment the priestesses touched one another, a faint, silver glow arose from their hands. It quickly spread along their arms and around the rest of their bodies.
Maiev and her companion began chanting. Their words made no sense to Jarod, but he knew that the Sisterhood of Elune had a special language of their own that they used to commune with the lunar deity.
The glow surrounding the females flowed over the wizard. His body jerked slightly, then relaxed.
Another rider joined the group. “Where’s the commander?”
Several of the past messengers had called Jarod by that very title despite his constant insistence that they do no such thing. Angered by the interruption at so delicate a time, he spun around and blurted, “You’ll keep your mouth shut and wait until I tell you it’s the right time to speak — ”
The mounted figure’s eyes widened. Only at that point did the captain see the gold and emerald trim on the shoulders or the emblem on the breast plate.
Jarod had insulted a noble.
But instead of taking offense, the rider nodded in apology and quieted. In an attempt to hide his shock, Jarod quickly turned back to watch his sister’s work.
Читать дальше