“Send scouts through this section of the city,” King Zorlan ordered. “I don’t want any surprises.”
“As you wish, my lord,” said one of the generals smartly.
Zorlan turned and found the entrance to the gatehouse. Inside was a spiral staircase that led up to the top of the city gates and gave access to the city walls. Zorlan took the steps quickly, despite his bulky frame. Zorlan was not excessively fat, but he had lived a sedentary life for many years, with servants always at the ready to do his bidding. Marching to war had helped trim a bit of the fat from the king’s frame, but he was still panting by the time he reached the top of the gatehouse.
Zorlan looked out across the city. He could see the dragons battling. The troops on the walls seemed frozen, neither moving to attack his men on the gatehouse nor retreating. Smoke and dust rose from the tower of the Torr, although he could not make out what was happening there. He decided he would deal with the wizard-or witch-once he had secured the city. He looked down and saw his men pouring into the open area around the gate.
“I want men on either side of this gatehouse,” Zorlan ordered. “We must strike while the iron is hot. We may not get a better chance to take the city than we have right now.”
Men ran to fulfill his orders. Soon, King Zorlan had armed troops making a shield wall that stretched across the city wall. He decided it was time to sweep the Ortisan’s from their lofty perches.
“We shall move forward,” he ordered. “I want reserve troops holding this position and more reinforcements joining us on the wall as quickly as possible.”
“Aye, my lord,” said an officer.
Zorlan drew his sword. It was brightly polished and more ornamental than useful. The sword was long and heavy, but the hilt was only long enough for one hand to hold the ornate weapon. Zorlan could hold it and lift it above his head, but fighting with the sword was impractical. The heavy weapon would be swatted from his hand easily. The hilt was full of gemstones and the crosspiece was made of gold, which any forged blade would cut through easily. There was gold filigree decorating the blade, but it still felt good to Zorlan to hold it in his hand.
He raised the sword and called to his troops.
“Move forward,” he shouted.
The sound of their boots marching along the stone wall brought a smile to Zorlan’s face.
He wished that he could have been on his horse, but the truth was he was more than a little afraid of being knocked off the wall and falling to his death. He stayed away from the crenellated edge of the wall, and well back from the troops that were now marching toward a group of soldiers several hundred feet along the wall from the gatehouse. He was confident that he could win the day, but he wasn’t the kind of man to take chances unnecessarily.
The Ortisan troop formed their own shield wall, but they looked uncertain as Zorlan’s forces came near. The king was just about to order his men to attack when a sound like thunder made them all turn and stare at the tower of the Torr.
Chapter 31
Brianna sent fire raging toward the witch, but Gwendolyn was ready for her. As Zollin looked on from the rooftop above, using his magic to sense what was happening below, he saw Brianna’s raging fire roll back, as if she were in an invisible bubble that was slowly shrinking back. Terror for Brianna’s safety almost caused Zollin to panic, but then Brianna’s heat increased exponentially and she dropped through the stone floor. Gwendolyn rushed over toward where Brianna had been, but Zollin was no longer hesitant to act.
His magic was churning inside him like his own personal tornado. He felt the power rushing into the ancient stones of the tower and then he tore them away. It felt like he was ripping a head of lettuce in two, the massive stone blocks giving only the slightest resistance to his overwhelming magical power. The sound of the stones breaking was like thunder. Tig roared behind Zollin, who stood near one edge of the tower’s roof while the other half was ripped apart, the demolished stones and wooden supports falling and crashing down around the base of the massive tower, with hundreds of books and scrolls tumbling after them.
Gwendolyn looked up in surprise, and then her expression changed. She went from a woman in shock to a woman in desperate need. Zollin felt his desire for her explode-all thoughts of Brianna were utterly banished. All Zollin could think about was saving Gwendolyn and making her his. Then Tig swooped in. The blue dragon was small compared to the other dragons, but Tig was still as large as a full-grown horse. The blue dragon spread its ruined wings wide to slow it’s descent, extending the needle-like talons on all four feet while spewing fire from its mouth. Gwendolyn blocked the fire, but the force of Tig’s weight crashed down on her and the floor, weakened by Brianna’s fiery escape, collapsed beneath them.
When Gwendolyn fell, her spell was broken. Zollin felt shame coloring his cheeks as he realized just how close he had come to being seduced by the witch’s beguiling spell. But he didn’t have time for self-pity-he knew he had to help Brianna and Tig. He started with Andomina, who was still shrieking in pain from Tig’s first fiery attack. She had crawled as far from the fighting as she could and was now perched on a little shelf next to the wall that was still intact. He levitated her out of the tower. It reminded Zollin of trying to lift fish from a stream when he had first learned to use his magical power. Andomina was in full-blown panic, kicking and writhing in an effort to escape the magical hand that lifted her into the air, oblivious to the certain death that would result if she managed to break free.
Zollin set her down gently on top of the royal castle, which wasn’t far from the tower and was the tallest building in the Grand City apart from the tower of the Torr. Then he turned his attention back to the battle going on below him. Tig was like a rabid dog, biting and tearing with teeth and talons, using the long tail to swipe at the witch, and all the while billowing flames. Brianna was leaping and flipping through the air, sending balls of fire flying around the room. Gwendolyn was trying desperately to hold both back, but the sorceress was overwhelmed. She was moving toward one of the windows as Zollin peered down from the ruined top floor. He could feel the heat from the battle radiating up from the collapsed floor and he decided not to rush into a situation he wasn’t sure how to help in.
“She’s going to escape!” he shouted, but Tig’s roaring was too loud for Zollin’s voice to be heard over.
Gwendolyn dove through the open window. Zollin turned and rushed to the edge of the demolished roof to see what happened to the witch, but then she rose up into the air in front of him.
“Zollin,” she said, her voice as smooth as honey.
He felt himself drawn to her again and tried to look away, but he couldn’t.
“Come with me,” she purred. “I am not the enemy.”
“No,” he said between clenched teeth, although he was saying it more in response to his own passionate urges than to Gwendolyn’s offer.
Fire billowed out of the window below her, but Gwendolyn moved deftly out of range. “Hurry, Zollin, there isn’t much time,” she said. “Come with me.”
“No Zollin!” Brianna shouted from below.
Tig roared and Zollin could feel his desires being stretched. His entire body was tense, like a harp string just before it snaps. Zollin felt his reason slipping away. And then a face rose up in his mind. Zollin wasn’t sure if it was from his own memory or if Ferno had been trying to communicate with him, but he saw Brianna’s face clearly. She was laughing and smiling, her beauty heart wrenching. Then the world began to grow dark around him and he knew he had to fight. He focused all his mental and magical energy on standing his ground. Around him books began to fly off the shelves that were still intact. Rocks and bits of stone-the rubble from where Zollin had destroyed the roof of the tower-swirled around him.