Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 52 - AND INTO THE FIRE

Trumpets and screams carried through the early morning darkness, washing over Matt as he galloped with his head bent low over Taryon's neck. Fear pulsed through his veins at the horrific sounds of battle, many multiples louder than their skirmish in The Empty Net. Strangled cries as the lives and limbs of men were crushed, stabbed, maimed, and shot, pierced above the general commotion of battle, chilling Matt to the core. Tilting his head to observe his companions he could see similarly strained expressions contorting their features as they, like him, realized the reality of the situation that they rode toward. There would be no rest, no time to recoup their strength, it would be right back into the fire of combat.

  "Faster! We are nearly to Shaleport!" Anthony called over his shoulder, his heels prodding into the sides of his exhausted horse, urging the magnificent beast to accelerate to even greater speeds. "How are you holding up Captain Wharton?"

"I am fine," Cliff called back, his words came forced; far weaker than Matt had ever heard from the soldier who always seemed to exude such strength. His voice was a ghost of its usual confidence, barely more than a slightly projected whisper.

  Will, who had insisted on riding beside Cliff since the moment they had fled from the scene of the ambush, tilted his head to study the captain in the faint moonlight. He frowned as he beheld the injury he had carefully treated over the last two days, "His wound has reopened, we need to get him to a more experienced healer before he loses too much blood."

  Cliff shook his head in dismissal, growling a quiet dissent at Will, but for all the bravery that the man displayed he could not hide his wince at every heavy step in his steed's stride. His hand balled into a tight fist at his side as he fought the obvious and instinctual urge to place his palm over his injury in an effort to staunch the blood that seeped into the once white bandage that wrapped around his midriff. Despite the dark and the distance between them, it was painfully obvious to Matt how dark and stained the bandage now was.

"It will not stay closed with all this riding," Will called back to his brother. "He needs stable ground and rest."

  The sky lit before them as an enormous, crackling crash reverberated through the early morning. While its source was still too far in the distance to see, the sound was unmistakable. Someone had summoned a lightning strike, nearly comparable to the one Aundin had used to destroy Matt's farm, out of the clear skies above. The screams intensified as the breaking and crumbling of masonry rumbled with the intensity of a landslide. Matt's heart lodged in his throat. Were they really riding headlong into a scene of such destruction? He had barely survived The Empty Net, what made him believe he could survive a battle of this scale?

"Was that made by your father?" Matt turned toward Reyna, hoping that the almost certainly unanswerable question could offer a brief distraction from his overwhelming fear.

  "I do not know which of our stormcriers created such a powerful blast," Reyna answered, her face clouded in concern. "I have never seen a power of such strength and intensity ever before. Luckily for our people, most have not had to witness such destruction in their lifetimes."

  "I did not know that a human stormcrier could wield that much power," Matt admitted. "I thought that remained the providence of the dragons."

  Reyna managed a harsh laugh, "Then you have not heard the stories from our war against the dragons, or our war to repel Svet from the shores of Verden. They say my grandfather, Charlot Benjamin, conjured a storm so powerful it blotted out the sky. If the stories are to be believed, the storm sank not one, but three ships that carried legions of Svettian soldiers for what was to be a surprise attack against our forces."