There's a cleared space on top of the ridge, one with enough room for the wounded to gather.
There are a great many of them.
Jaelle is at one side of the field, and Kim at the other. She's rolled up her sleeves and is working as quickly as she can, to the best of her ability.
She doesn't look at the Baelrath, darkened and dead on her finger.
Her head rises at the sound of her name, and she looks up at the black shape dropping towards her. Unflinching, she grabs for the slim blade they've given her, and raises it as Avaia screams in triumph. The swan won't find her such easy prey this--
Barely ten feet above her head, the monstrous swan's flight is intersected by a living red comet, horned and hooved and winged, as Tabor dan Ivor rides Imraith-Nimphais through the sky.
The swan screams, in pain and terror, and falls to the ground in front of Jen. And Guinevere, Jennifer, walks over, stares for a moment, and thrusts her blade into the thing's throat.
Tabor looks up. They all do, only to see the most secret, most terrible of Maugrim's designs in the sky above them-- but only Tabor moves, while the others watch in horror.
The Dragon of Rakoth Maugrim is a twisted creature of his hate, which had grown nurtured by the malice of a thousand years. Now it is upon them, a roaring blackness filling the sky as it descends, a force of furious, unyielding destruction, not to be denied or challenged.
Save only by the red unicorn that climbs into the sky, a young boy upon her back.
Only each other at the last.
At Tabor's urging, Imraith-Nimphais streaks through the sky, making herself into a living blade with dazzling, incandescent speed, her silver horn shining like a star as she arrows towards the Dragon.
It opens its mouth, flame appearing at the base of its gaping throat, but it is too late, too late--
--and then, at the height of her speed, Imraith-Nimphais throws Tabor dan Ivor from her back, sending him falling through the air like a torn leaf.
As the Dragon appears in the sky, Kim falls to her knees, beaten there not by the wind of its coming but by the sick weight of her own folly. This, then, was the reason that the Baelrath had burned at Calor Diman; this is the need it had foreseen and demanded an answer too.
But she had refused, had denied it, and so now Tabor dan Ivor will pay the price for her refusal.
The guilt is numbing and useless. Kim blinks tears from her eyes, watching.
And so, she is able to see as Imraith-Nimphais bucks Tabor free, as Teyrnon-- warned by Paul's sharp, frantic cry-- reaches out with magic to slow his fall, as Arthur Pendragon races across the plain to catch Tabor in time, followed and guarded by Lancelot, the two of them moving nearly as one.
Her tears are for another reason entirely now, as Arthur brings Tabor back to them. The boy has collapsed, she finds, but will recover in time.
They all might, now.
We have a chance.Even as she thinks it, Kim looks up and sees the Maugrim's armies approaching. There are too many of them, she
( ... )
There are a great many of them.
Jaelle is at one side of the field, and Kim at the other. She's rolled up her sleeves and is working as quickly as she can, to the best of her ability.
She doesn't look at the Baelrath, darkened and dead on her finger.
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Kim points across the ridge, across the wreckage of battered and broken people, toward where Jennifer is helping yet another fighter.
"We're all just... we're doing what we can."
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In the midst of everything, he thinks, she has never looked more like a Queen. He looks at her -
- and then, on some impulse, he looks up.
And shouts, as loud as he can, already running towards her, "Jen! Avaia!"
The black swan is stooping to claim her victim for the second time.
"Jen!"
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Barely ten feet above her head, the monstrous swan's flight is intersected by a living red comet, horned and hooved and winged, as Tabor dan Ivor rides Imraith-Nimphais through the sky.
The swan screams, in pain and terror, and falls to the ground in front of Jen. And Guinevere, Jennifer, walks over, stares for a moment, and thrusts her blade into the thing's throat.
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Almost everyone. Shaken, Kim has closed her eyes, although it does nothing for the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Oh, Tabor. I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry."
At this Loren lifts his head, sharply, and there is a sudden horrified understanding in his eyes. He turns, looking north.
"Weaver at the Loom!"
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The Dragon of Rakoth Maugrim is a twisted creature of his hate, which had grown nurtured by the malice of a thousand years. Now it is upon them, a roaring blackness filling the sky as it descends, a force of furious, unyielding destruction, not to be denied or challenged.
Save only by the red unicorn that climbs into the sky, a young boy upon her back.
Only each other at the last.
At Tabor's urging, Imraith-Nimphais streaks through the sky, making herself into a living blade with dazzling, incandescent speed, her silver horn shining like a star as she arrows towards the Dragon.
It opens its mouth, flame appearing at the base of its gaping throat, but it is too late, too late--
--and then, at the height of her speed, Imraith-Nimphais throws Tabor dan Ivor from her back, sending him falling through the air like a torn leaf.
Remember me! she sends, a single ( ... )
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But she had refused, had denied it, and so now Tabor dan Ivor will pay the price for her refusal.
The guilt is numbing and useless. Kim blinks tears from her eyes, watching.
And so, she is able to see as Imraith-Nimphais bucks Tabor free, as Teyrnon-- warned by Paul's sharp, frantic cry-- reaches out with magic to slow his fall, as Arthur Pendragon races across the plain to catch Tabor in time, followed and guarded by Lancelot, the two of them moving nearly as one.
Her tears are for another reason entirely now, as Arthur brings Tabor back to them. The boy has collapsed, she finds, but will recover in time.
They all might, now.
We have a chance.Even as she thinks it, Kim looks up and sees the Maugrim's armies approaching. There are too many of them, she ( ... )
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