The Last Stand of Daronwy by Clint Talbert Page B

apparition howled as an icy wind swept through the chamber, scattering it like gray-black sand. Lightningbolt’s spells fired through the air, exploding in golden orbs. Eaglewing brought the sword down hard on Mayflure’s manacles, breaking them. A selurk lunged toward him, some kind of black orb in its hand. A violet bolt of electricity crackled through space, knocking the Shadow wizard sideways. “Thanks!” Eaglewing shouted, scooping Mayflure’s half-conscious body onto his shoulder. Eaglewing ran to the cell where the villagers cowered. Summoning his power, Eaglewing swung at the ancient bars of the cell door, hoping it was as old as it looked.
    The vibration rattled his bones and shook his teeth, but the lock fell away. With a sharp kick, the door fell in. Light reflected from the walls and a rush of heat whirled over his shoulder as an orb exploded behind him. He pitched forward, tumbling into the feet of the shocked and screaming captives. His ogre helmet clattered across the flagstones. Mayflure opened her soft eyes, blinking at him as though she had never seen him before.
    â€œEaglewing?”
    The hostages stared at him. He scrambled to Mayflure’s side, cradling her head. “It’s me. I’ve got you. Just hold on.” He turned to the villagers. “I’m Adept Eaglewing Vindarin. Follow me.” He scooped Mayflure into his arms—she was so light, so unnaturally light—and led the villagers along the walls toward the entrance to the catacomb.
    Eaglewing directed the shocked villagers, pointing. “Run up that passageway, I’ll be right behind you. Go! Go!”
    Blue orbs exploded all about Lightningbolt. The selurks pressed closer, compressing the energy between them. They had rallied; three of them were working together. “Mayflure, my dagger!”
    She took it from his belt. Shuffling her weight onto his left arm, Eaglewing took the dagger by the tip and threw it into the chest of one of the wizards. The selurk fell backwards, its spell exploding against the ceiling. Limestone shards evaporated in bursts of flame as they rained into the midst of the fray.
    Lightningbolt used the disruption to redirect his spells at the remaining two selurks left standing. Eaglewing rushed to the front of the villagers and made himself heard over the din. “Listen! We are going to come out of here running. Follow us. Don’t fall behind.” He looked down at Mayflure. “Can you stand?”
    She shrugged.
    â€œTry.” He stood her against the wall and reached for his powder as the Raised Knight opened the iron door. The knight’s wordless anger filled his consciousness. Eaglewing threw the powder into the suit of armor and swung his sword hard into the breastplate, making one long, yellow spark.
    The powder exploded, sending armor in all directions and knocking Eaglewing onto his back. Face blackened, he ushered the captives out the door and through the malevolent cloud of the Raised Knight’s rage, impotent now without its physical form. Every single being in the plaza turned, stunned by the explosion.
    Eaglewing called to his brother without speaking aloud. Get Mayflure and the others out of here. I’ll clear your way to the drawbridge and make sure it doesn’t raise.
    Lightningbolt’s telepathic response flashed into Eaglewing’s mind. How will you get out?
    I’ll find a way. Come on, let’s go!
    Lightningbolt appeared next to Eaglewing and scooped Mayflure into his arms.
    Unsheathing both his swords, Eaglewing roared and charged the ranks of ogres who were already halfway across the plaza. He smashed through them, body tumbling, swords spinning in the air. He fought his way through the knots of men and ogres and goblins, and gained the squat gatehouse tower. Inside, he coated the massive chain for the old drawbridge in black powder and sparked it. It exploded, but scarcely marred the new iron links of the