Tannen rode behind Tristan on his brown mare as the three of them made their way down the winding forest trails leading away from the Tower of Taras Gildorian.
On his black steed ahead of them, Silk was cursing the wizard. “Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, but ensorcelled as we were, who knows how long we might have carried on? I knew a street whore once who had been captured by this same Will of Winterwood. He played with him for twenty-four hours, bringing him to so many climaxes, he passed out at the end and nearly died from exhaustion.”
“Shhh!” Tristan urged as they came to the fringes of the woodlands before White Star Chapel.
Peering through the trees behind the tall hill where Will sat on Tannen’s own white steed, Silk whispered, “Lord of Life! Look at that Scart bastard! He has placed Corey under some kind of spell!”
Tristan urged Tannen to be cautious as he dismounted and locked his gaze on the lone figure of the white-haired wizard giving directions to Corey standing naked upon the front wall of White Star some three hundred yards away.
“This ends here,” Tannen said firmly.
He drew the magical dagger from the belt at his slender waist. Hefting it, he made his way out of the trees and crept silently up the hill. As he reached the halfway point, he stopped. Taking the long, slender blade of the glowing dagger between his thumb and forefinger, he lined up and sighted on the white-skinned back of the unsuspecting wizard. Tannen raised the dagger, cocked back his arm, and heaved it up the hill.
At that distance, he could not miss. Having been trained with all manner of blades at a very young age, Prince Tannen Rose was an expert not only with dueling blades but all manner of throwing knives. He never missed.
Will of Winterwood was as good as dead the moment he hurled the dagger at his tattooed back side. And yet a fraction of a second after releasing the blade, Tannen detected a faint shimmer of force encasing the body of Will and the white steed. The point of the blade struck this protection, and there was a sudden crackle created by the magic of the blade and the sorcery of the field of force.
The enchanted dagger dispelled the sheet of force but as it struck, magic caused the expertly thrown dagger to spin off balance so that it careened up and the hilt forcefully struck Will in the back of the head.
Will slumped in the saddle and fell from the horse, unconscious.
Tannen was tempted to finish what he had started, but as he darted up the hill to retrieve the dagger, Silk and Tristan spurred their mounts from the trees behind him.
As the two reached him, Tannen swung up into the saddle of his reclaimed steed, his concerned gaze now fixed on the distant trees at the foot of a tall bluff to the west. There a large horde of riders came pouring out of the fringes of the forest. There were thousands of them. It was plainly evident that long white hair crowned their heads, and it became more evident who they were as wild howls of Scartan war cries arose from nearly five thousand throats.
Seated on the white steed atop the hill, Tannen glanced behind him to the roiling mass of riders and gasped, “It is now for certain! The Dark Elves of Winterwood are on the warpath!”
He drew his glowing green blade and gestured at the chapel three hundred yards away. “Tristan! Silk! We must ride hard for the haven of White Star!”
Taking one look at the thousands of Scarts now racing toward them, Tristan and Silk kicked their mounts into a run and followed the Elven Prince down toward the chapel’s greenway.
*
The spell was broken and everyone gathered before the walls of the chapel turned to look back to the long field stretching down out of the highlands to the north of the Kestrel Woods.
Stunned by the sight of so many Scartan warlords, Prince Daggan looked up at Rian atop the chapel’s wall. “Open these gates, Blackthorn!” he roared.
Rian snatched up Corey’s clothes and hastily handed them to him. “Get dressed, quickly, Corey!” he said.
“He made me,” Corey whispered as he took the clothes he’d shed while under Will’s spell. “He made me, Rian.”
“I know,” Rian replied, and ran down the nearby stairway to the barred gates. He flung the iron bar out of the slots on either side of the oaken doors and swung the gates open. Daggan and his large company of guardsmen nearly rode over him in their haste to get inside. Behind Daggan’s company, Sharlyn led her war band in through the gate.
Rian watched as the two hundred black-clad Ravens started across the greenway toward the chapel. Nearly choking on the dust, Rian spotted the glimmering swords of the Elven riders as they broke from the trees to the east of the chapel and joined Tannen, Tristan, and Silk as they rode onto the greenway.
Prince Tannen? thought Rian. And Tristan and Silk ride with him?
In rigid formation, the Fairis riders reached the chapel wall in swift fashion. Rian sprang to one side as Tannen led his riders through the gateway. As the last rider rode through, Rian slammed the twin gates closed and barred them.
Once inside the courtyard, Tannen leaped from his horse and ran to Rian, giving him a warm embrace. “Not quite the reunion I was expecting us to have, Rian Blackthorn! Each of my riders carries a blade forged by Fairis hands. It is only magical blades that will slay these foul vargs from the Scapes of the Blue Winter Ice Range. We shall see if our blades turn the tide against that horde trying to breach these walls. May our arms not tire until we have won the day!”
Tannen’s company of two dozen Elves raced up the stairway to the walls above, bright blades illuminating the walkway as they mounted a proper defense.
The Elven Prince reached out to Rian as he passed, trailing two extended fingers across his left cheek. “Fight well, my love!” he called as he ran up the stairs.
Rian drew his own glowing Fairis blade and hastily mounted the stairs leading up to the front wall, hoping they would survive the brutal assault.
Stepping up beside him, Corey asked, “So that is Tannen?”
Rian frowned. “Was he your lover at one time?” Corey asked, his voice cracking.
Rian gave Corey a gentle, sympathetic squeeze on one shoulder. “We will talk about this later, Corey. Right now, let us concentrate on how we are going to survive against the horde about to assault these walls. Agreed?”
Wiping a tear from his cheek, Corey said, “But if there is still love between the two of you, then my heart will shatter, Rian. I have loved you for a very long time. I only wish you would love me as much as I love you.”
Both were jostled as they were joined on the wall by the small army taking refuge within the White Star. Prince Daggan and his guardsmen lined the wall to the left of them, while the war band from Rissen took up positions to their right side. Rian found himself standing beside Princess Sharlyn and her young lover, their faces turned toward the howling horde as it rolled down the hillside in one massive wave.
“What difference can we make,” Sharlyn whispered, “against such overwhelming numbers? Five thousand to little less than three hundred!”
“We shall soon see,” Rian told her.
Rian barely noticed Jasper had perched on the wall before him. He peered down at the owl and said, “Please, I ask you to return to Brystyn. Someone must warn the king this horde approaches the city. Fly now to Chan, report what you have witnessed here, and have him report to Morgan Rivers.”
Jasper took to the air, sending back, *May you stay alive until we meet again, Rian Blackthorn!*