pockets of fighters. Bodies lay strewn and torn on the ground.
Firepos screeched from above and Tanner saw a fireball careen into the enemy, burning a group of spearmen and sending others scattering away from the flames. But still the forces closed, sensing victory. He found himself at the edge of a small band of defenders, all battered and bloodied. A contingent of spearmen surrounded them, weapons leveled.
It was almost over. He had failed.
“Cease!” bellowed Gor.
The fighting petered out. Tanner saw Gor trot forward on his stallion.
Firepos hovered overhead, a fireball spinning in her talons.
“Call off the phoenix,” said Gor. “Or everyone dies, and this whole town will burn.”
Tanner didn’t have a choice. He raised his fist. “Firepos, no!”
The fireball disappeared as the Beast tipped her wings and flew back to land on top of a storage barn behind the small group of defenders. She sent out a call across the square, ruffling her feathers.
Silence fell.
The enemy soldiers parted as Gor approached.
“Thank you for bringing us here, boy,” he said to Tanner, loud enough for everyone to hear. Tanner burned with desire to charge at the man who had killed his grandmother. But he knew the soldiers would cut him down before he made it halfway.
“You spied on me,” he shouted. “After you killed an innocent old woman in cold blood.”
General Gor laughed. “Innocence means nothing in this war.”
A young defender with dark hair, bleeding from a scalp wound, stepped forward. “We’re not at war!” he shouted. “We don’t even know who you are.”
Gor dismounted from his stallion, his armor clanking. From a bag strapped to the saddle, he took out Esme’s fragment of the mask and held it aloft. Tanner felt as though some ancient evil was watching him through the empty eye socket.
“Until I have all the pieces of the Mask of Death, Avantia will suffer!” shouted Gor. “I will not rest until my search is complete.”
“They don’t have what you’re looking for,” Tanner said.
“Oh yes, they do.” General Gor pulled off his dragon-snouted helmet. “Bring me the Mapmaker!”
A chill spread over Tanner. So Gor had even overheard that part of his grandmother’s final words. The dark-haired defender looked back at his comrades. “What shall I do?”
A few shrugged; some nodded.
“Don’t help him!” someone said.
“Why should we tell you, you murderer?” the dark-haired defender shouted at Gor.
“Ask yourself this question,” said the general, smiling and revealing a glint of teeth. “‘Do I give up the Mapmaker, or do I condemn everyone I know and care about to death?’”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tanner cried. “He’ll kill you anyway!”
The dark-haired defender looked at his feet. Then his jaw stiffened. “Very well. I’ll lead you there.”
“Traitor,” a woman in the crowd yelled. “You don’t know what —”
A bolt thudded into her chest, cutting off her words. Tanner saw one of the varkule riders with his crossbow leveled. The villager fell to her knees, choking for breath. The varkule rider clicked his tongue and the varkule leaped forward, its teeth slashing like blades. It batted the woman’s body over and lunged at her. Blood spurted.
“Good work,” said General Gor. “Call him off.” The soldier clicked his tongue again and reluctantly the varkule backed away. “Now, would anyone else like to object?”
People shook their heads; no one spoke.
The general’s eyes fell on Tanner. “You’ve outlived your usefulness.” He turned to a crossbowman. “Kill him.”
T anner didn’t hesitate. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Firepos swooped down toward him. As the soldier aimed his crossbow, Tanner jumped up and grabbed Firepos’s claw. He was heaved into the air and the bolt thudded into a cart behind where he’d been standing.
“Idiot! You missed,” General Gor shouted.
Tanner let Firepos carry him a hundred paces,
Firepos screeched from above and Tanner saw a fireball careen into the enemy, burning a group of spearmen and sending others scattering away from the flames. But still the forces closed, sensing victory. He found himself at the edge of a small band of defenders, all battered and bloodied. A contingent of spearmen surrounded them, weapons leveled.
It was almost over. He had failed.
“Cease!” bellowed Gor.
The fighting petered out. Tanner saw Gor trot forward on his stallion.
Firepos hovered overhead, a fireball spinning in her talons.
“Call off the phoenix,” said Gor. “Or everyone dies, and this whole town will burn.”
Tanner didn’t have a choice. He raised his fist. “Firepos, no!”
The fireball disappeared as the Beast tipped her wings and flew back to land on top of a storage barn behind the small group of defenders. She sent out a call across the square, ruffling her feathers.
Silence fell.
The enemy soldiers parted as Gor approached.
“Thank you for bringing us here, boy,” he said to Tanner, loud enough for everyone to hear. Tanner burned with desire to charge at the man who had killed his grandmother. But he knew the soldiers would cut him down before he made it halfway.
“You spied on me,” he shouted. “After you killed an innocent old woman in cold blood.”
General Gor laughed. “Innocence means nothing in this war.”
A young defender with dark hair, bleeding from a scalp wound, stepped forward. “We’re not at war!” he shouted. “We don’t even know who you are.”
Gor dismounted from his stallion, his armor clanking. From a bag strapped to the saddle, he took out Esme’s fragment of the mask and held it aloft. Tanner felt as though some ancient evil was watching him through the empty eye socket.
“Until I have all the pieces of the Mask of Death, Avantia will suffer!” shouted Gor. “I will not rest until my search is complete.”
“They don’t have what you’re looking for,” Tanner said.
“Oh yes, they do.” General Gor pulled off his dragon-snouted helmet. “Bring me the Mapmaker!”
A chill spread over Tanner. So Gor had even overheard that part of his grandmother’s final words. The dark-haired defender looked back at his comrades. “What shall I do?”
A few shrugged; some nodded.
“Don’t help him!” someone said.
“Why should we tell you, you murderer?” the dark-haired defender shouted at Gor.
“Ask yourself this question,” said the general, smiling and revealing a glint of teeth. “‘Do I give up the Mapmaker, or do I condemn everyone I know and care about to death?’”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tanner cried. “He’ll kill you anyway!”
The dark-haired defender looked at his feet. Then his jaw stiffened. “Very well. I’ll lead you there.”
“Traitor,” a woman in the crowd yelled. “You don’t know what —”
A bolt thudded into her chest, cutting off her words. Tanner saw one of the varkule riders with his crossbow leveled. The villager fell to her knees, choking for breath. The varkule rider clicked his tongue and the varkule leaped forward, its teeth slashing like blades. It batted the woman’s body over and lunged at her. Blood spurted.
“Good work,” said General Gor. “Call him off.” The soldier clicked his tongue again and reluctantly the varkule backed away. “Now, would anyone else like to object?”
People shook their heads; no one spoke.
The general’s eyes fell on Tanner. “You’ve outlived your usefulness.” He turned to a crossbowman. “Kill him.”
T anner didn’t hesitate. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Firepos swooped down toward him. As the soldier aimed his crossbow, Tanner jumped up and grabbed Firepos’s claw. He was heaved into the air and the bolt thudded into a cart behind where he’d been standing.
“Idiot! You missed,” General Gor shouted.
Tanner let Firepos carry him a hundred paces,
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