And by the time the Qirsi and their leaders had recovered enough to take stock of what was happening, the snakes were almost upon them. A wave of serpents reached the riders all at once, some of them striking at men who had fallen to the ground, others going for the legs of horses.
One of them sank its fangs into the haunch of E'Menua's mount. The animal bucked ferociously, sending the a'laq flying. He landed hard on his side, rolled once, and was still.
Without bothering to reach for the power of any of the Qirsi around him, Grinsa crushed the snake's head with shaping magic. But E'Menua had landed near another of the serpents, and before Grinsa could do anything, this second beast struck at the a'laq, drawing blood from his side.
Grinsa killed this snake as well, though he knew that it was too late. Feeling sick to his stomach, he leaped down off his mount, killed a third snake that was slithering toward him, and then sprinted toward the a'laq.
A wolf lunged for him and he set the beast on fire with a thought, barely even breaking stride. Snakes and eagles and blood wolves were all around him, as if this were some terror visited upon him in his sleep. But he left it for the other Fal'Borna to fight them off.
He dropped to his knees beside the a'laq, laid his hands upon the wound from the serpent, and began to pour his healing magic into the man. The wound itself was nothing. But the venom nearly overwhelmed him. It was as cold as death and as bitter as tansy. Already it had spread through E'Menua's body, seeping into the man's heart.
"Don't," E'Menua said weakly. His eyes fluttered open and with a great effort he turned his head to look at Grinsa. He made a feeble attempt to push the Forelander's hands away. "Save your strength," he said. "I'm dead already. Fight the dark-eyes. Guard the others."
"I'm sorry, A'Laq," Grinsa said, his chest aching. He'd never liked E'Menua, any more than the man had liked him, but he'd come to respect him, and he knew that his death would be a terrible blow to all the people of his sept. "I should have kept you safe."
"I should have done that for myself." E'Menua stiffened, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. "Gods!" he gasped. After a moment the spasm appeared to pass. "You need to protect the rest," he said, barely strong enough to make his voice heard.
"I will, A'Laq. You have my word."
"And D'Pera. I love her. Tell her."
"You have my word on that, too."
E'Menua moved his head slightly, as if trying to nod. "You're a difficult man," he whispered. "But your word is good with me."
His body went rigid again, and this time he remained still.
Grinsa closed his eyes for just an instant. "Damn," he muttered.
He climbed to his feet and looked around him. A pair of Fal'Borna stood a short distance away, and several dead wolves and snakes lay nearby. He recognized the men as warriors from E'Menua's sept.
"You were protecting us?" Grinsa asked.
One of the men nodded, his eyes fixed on the body of the a'laq. "Is he dead?" the man asked.
"Yes. I'm sorry. The venom from that snake was too powerful. I couldn't save him."
The man swallowed, then nodded again. There appeared to be tears in his eyes, but Grinsa couldn't be certain because the man turned and quickly walked away. The other warrior remained there, still looking at E'Menua.
"I think there was another a'laq once, when I was a boy," he said. "But I don't remember."
"Q'Daer will lead us well," Grinsa said. "He's a good man, a strong man." The warrior nodded at this, and then he, too, walked away.
Grinsa could see that Qirsi warriors were still fighting off the Mettai's creatures, and at least a dozen of the great eagles still circled over the battle plain. Looking below them, he saw that Q'Daer and his small company had halted and were staring back at the Fal'Borna lines. The young Weaver might have been trying to spot his a'laq amid the obvious tumult in their ranks.
A moment later, Q'Daer faced forward once more. Grinsa watched him and his men, though from this distance it was hard to tell what they were doing. Then it became obvious. The Mettai were no longer all together at the front of the Eandi lines. But several of them stood in a cluster, and now every one of them in this group collapsed to the ground, as if they had been smitten by some great unseen fist. A cheer went up from Q'Daer's men and was echoed by those warriors closer to Grinsa.
Almost immediately, the Forelander saw another, smaller group of Mettai reach for their blades and for handfuls of dirt. He knew what they were going to do and he shouted, "Fire!"
But he could also see from the trajectory of their spell that he'd be helpless to stop it. He threw a ball of flame at the shimmering mist, but it had already started to settle over Q'Daer and the others. He roared the young Weaver's name, and then watched the man fall to the ground.
Enly spun to see what had put that horrified expression on Tirnya's face, and felt the breath leave his body in a rush, as if he had been punched in the stomach. The eagle plummeting toward Jenoe looked to be the size of a small house. A house with talons like dagger blades and a beak that could swallow a horse whole.
Arrows jutted from its body in every direction, and more were hitting it even as it dove. But they wouldn't be enough to stop the creature. Tirnya was screaming to her father and now Enly did, too, even as he pulled out his sword and started sprinting toward the marshal. It was hard to hear anything above the tumult of all that was happening around them, but at last Jenoe seemed to grasp the danger. Not that there was much he could do about it.
The marshal began to run, peering back over his shoulder to see what the great bird was doing. The eagle adjusted its course with little more than a flick of its tail and the subtle shift of a wing. Even as Enly continued his desperate run, he was startled to note how much this creature of magic had in common with the normal eagles he had seen in the foothills of the Aelind Range. He also saw that Jenoe's attempt to escape had bought them both another moment or two. Enly never would have made it otherwise.
Just as the eagle reached out to grab the marshal in its claws, Enly caught up with Jenoe and shoved him to the side, out of reach of the eagle. An instant later the bird's talon closed, not around Jenoe, but around Enly, tearing a gasp from his chest.
The creature's grip was as strong as iron; he felt a rib break, and then another. One of the claws punctured his back just below the shoulder. The pain blinded him, stole his breath, and nearly made him pass out. It was a miracle beyond reckoning that he managed to hold on to his sword.
The bird started to rise, its wings pounding the air, its hold on Enly tightening even more. He felt and heard another rib crack. He knew he couldn't allow the beast to get too far off the ground, and so he drew back his blade, the pain in his side and back making his stomach heave, and he hacked at the talon that held him.
The bird let out a deafening cry.
Enly hacked at the foot again, and then a third time. Then he stabbed at the bird's leg with the point of his weapon.
The eagle shook him; it clutched him even tighter, crying out again. Enly stabbed at its leg a second time and then a third. The eagle bent its head down and for one terrifying moment Enly thought that it would tear into him with its beak right there in midair. Instead it tried to take hold of him with the other talon. He hacked at this one, too, with as much force as he could muster.
The talon gripping him opened and he started to slip from the eagle's grasp. He rolled, and let out a howl of pain as the flesh below his shoulder tore away. The eagle grabbed at him with the other talon, but only managed to knock him out of reach.
It was only then, as he started to fall, that Enly realized how high he already was. He'd thought that he'd kept the eagle from taking him too far, but he was wrong. This was like falling from one of the towers on his father's palace.
He was spinning, tumbling. It seemed to take forever. And as he saw the ground coming to meet him, he thought, I'm dead.