Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Loose Ends

Dezi silently watched the two Wielders stride across the top of the northeastern wall, shimmers of energy already gathering around them as they drew power into themselves to fuel their impending counterattack. Then tugging on the bandage the human healer was wrapping around her upper arm, recaptured her attention.

"That should do it," the woman said in Taren, her tones colored by the eastern highlands of the Hammer Peninsula, a place the inhabitants called Mamra. She flashed Dezi a brilliant smile.

"Not too deep, so it'll heal quickly, now that we've sorted it for you. I would recommend something from the mess tent though, followed by some sleep. You look exhausted."

"I thank you, mistress healer. Your skill is without measure; I've been well tended." Dezi gracefully inclined her head in further thanks before continuing, her Taren flawless. "And I would certainly like some food, but sleep will have to wait. My place is beside the Lord Wielder of the Star, defending the fortress."

Before the healer could reply to Dezi's determined words, the ground underfoot heaved and the air sang with magical discharge. The healer took one quick look back towards the walls before returning her gaze to Dezi, her friendly smile becoming a mischievous grin.

"I'd hurry then, my lady, or the Lord Wielders won't leave anything for you to do!"

<<Lady Dezinor.>>

Dezi looked over her shoulder to the speaker and found Tamaryn striding towards her, a determined expression on her face as she stepped between rough cots and working healers. That look of resolution was echoed by Draneen and Ygdarrinor, who followed on her heels. All three were still wearing their armor and weapons from their trek in the Easterling, though they all three now sported new bandages as she herself now did.

<<Looks like our husband has decided to do some fighting without us,>> the grim sea elf woman tautly noted, a gauntleted fist gripping the hilt of her sheathed sea elf cutlass, as she came to a halt a couple of paces from where Dezi sat on the edge of a cot. Of the fear and uncertainly she had while trekking in the Easterling, there was no trace in her expression. Only determination.

<<A warrior bard indeed, to rush to face the Shadow with such vigor,>> Ygdarrinor added, her tanned visage hard. <<Yet without true wisdom, if he thinks to sing this war hymn without us.>>

<<Then let us go up and remind him, my sisters,>> Dezi said, smoothly standing. A final nod of thanks to the healer who bandaged her, then she was leading the three of them out of the healers' tent and towards the northeastern wall where Dezi had last seen Shawn and his brother.

They hadn't gone more than a handful of steps towards the walls, however, when they were halted by a loud cheer lifting from the defenders there.

"The Shadow has been defeated!"

Shawn nodded in satisfaction as he let the power of the universe ease out of him. Spreading out from the walls, thousands of tjor'riin now lay dead, their bodies shattered by the puissant spells cast by he and his brother. Yet, he knew they weren't defeated, as the defenders around them were crying. No, he could feel them just beyond sight, gathering for another attack.

"At least there's no demons with them yet," Patrik observed as he joined his brother, the visor on his helmet flipped up to let keen blue eyes survey the battlefield, much as Shawn now did. The lean Wielder of the Earth looked over at his brother.

"I give them perhaps a day or two to regroup then we'll have them against us again. What do you think, Shawn?"

"Two, at the very most," the Wielder of the Star grimly agreed. "And they might have demons with them then, or worse."