Read Online The Witch's Daughter by R. A. Salvatore - Free Book Online
Authors: R. A. Salvatore
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stronger as more and more of the creatures joined in. Behind Thalasi, his army started in with their own growls and protests. The situation grew grave, the Black Warlock now knew. Mountain talons and swamp talons had never been the best of friends.
“I am Thalasi!” the Black Warrior declared in a magically enhanced roar, his booming voice silencing the cries on both sides. “The master is come!”
The five opposing leaders looked at each other for support. They knew the name, though their legends spoke of “Talagi,” not Thalasi. But in any case, that is all the Black Warlock had ever been to these particular creatures: a legend.
“You are man,” the largest spat. Unlike their mountain kin, whose solitary existence in the Kored-dul range kept them far from contact with other races, these talons were quite familiar with humans. They constantly skirmished withthe westernmost villages of the Calvan kingdom, stealing supplies or simply for the sheer pleasure of killing men.
Taking heart from their leader’s undeniable proclamation, the army of swamp talons took up their chant again and rattled their weapons against their shields. Thalasi’s army responded in kind, and the whole of the field teetered on the brink of battle.
The Black Warlock realized that he had to act quickly but carefully. He hesitated in using his magical power. In addition to scaring off these potential new recruits, a show of wizardly force, reaching into that magical realm that he shared with his counterparts might ring out across the plains like a beacon to his mightiest enemies, the two wizards and the witch. Thalasi was out of the protection of the Kored-dul Mountains now, and could sense the presence of the other magic users. For his plans of conquest to have any chance of succeeding, he had to make certain that the others did not learn of his return before the western fields were overrun.
Still the Black Warlock had to act or lose everything here and now. The opposing forces were equal enough to guarantee that little would remain of either—too little to carry him to glory.
The five swamp talon leaders shouted commands to their forces; a line of lizard-riding cavalry formed to lead the charge. Thalasi’s army roared to similar life, their loyalty to the Black Warlock, wrought of abject terror, standing strong against the specter of the swamp talon army.
Thalasi silenced them all in the blink of an eye.
“I am Thalasi!” he roared in his godlike voice. A pillar of fire engulfed the Black Warlock, blazing yet not consuming his mortal form. Stunned talons on both sides fell back from the spectacle.
Thalasi reached a hand out of the fiery pillar, and a line of flame sprouted from each finger to gobble up the fiveopposing leaders. They, too, found themselves enshrouded by pillars of blazing white fires, yet they, too, lived on.
Thalasi addressed the largest, the one who had so openly opposed him. “Who is your master?” he demanded.
“Men die!” the stubborn creature growled. The fire devoured it.
“Who is your master?” Thalasi demanded of the other four, witnesses to the folly of their peer’s defiance.
They gave themselves over to him wholeheartedly.
Thalasi released them from the fiery pillars and swept his fisted hand in a wide arc. Again the flame leaped out from him, this time reaching out behind the swamp talon army, building a deadly barrier behind them to discourage those who had started to flee. When the herding was completed, Thalasi shut down the magic, hoping that he had not revealed himself to his distant enemies.
“I am Thalasi!” he said yet again. “Follow me, join in my war! Taste the blood of Calvans!”
The rivalry of swamp talons and mountain talons had spanned centuries, grown since the first defeat of Morgan Thalasi on the Four Bridges. But none dared resist the specter of power that loomed before them now, and none wanted to resist the promises of man-flesh.
Thalasi walked across the
“I am Thalasi!” the Black Warrior declared in a magically enhanced roar, his booming voice silencing the cries on both sides. “The master is come!”
The five opposing leaders looked at each other for support. They knew the name, though their legends spoke of “Talagi,” not Thalasi. But in any case, that is all the Black Warlock had ever been to these particular creatures: a legend.
“You are man,” the largest spat. Unlike their mountain kin, whose solitary existence in the Kored-dul range kept them far from contact with other races, these talons were quite familiar with humans. They constantly skirmished withthe westernmost villages of the Calvan kingdom, stealing supplies or simply for the sheer pleasure of killing men.
Taking heart from their leader’s undeniable proclamation, the army of swamp talons took up their chant again and rattled their weapons against their shields. Thalasi’s army responded in kind, and the whole of the field teetered on the brink of battle.
The Black Warlock realized that he had to act quickly but carefully. He hesitated in using his magical power. In addition to scaring off these potential new recruits, a show of wizardly force, reaching into that magical realm that he shared with his counterparts might ring out across the plains like a beacon to his mightiest enemies, the two wizards and the witch. Thalasi was out of the protection of the Kored-dul Mountains now, and could sense the presence of the other magic users. For his plans of conquest to have any chance of succeeding, he had to make certain that the others did not learn of his return before the western fields were overrun.
Still the Black Warlock had to act or lose everything here and now. The opposing forces were equal enough to guarantee that little would remain of either—too little to carry him to glory.
The five swamp talon leaders shouted commands to their forces; a line of lizard-riding cavalry formed to lead the charge. Thalasi’s army roared to similar life, their loyalty to the Black Warlock, wrought of abject terror, standing strong against the specter of the swamp talon army.
Thalasi silenced them all in the blink of an eye.
“I am Thalasi!” he roared in his godlike voice. A pillar of fire engulfed the Black Warlock, blazing yet not consuming his mortal form. Stunned talons on both sides fell back from the spectacle.
Thalasi reached a hand out of the fiery pillar, and a line of flame sprouted from each finger to gobble up the fiveopposing leaders. They, too, found themselves enshrouded by pillars of blazing white fires, yet they, too, lived on.
Thalasi addressed the largest, the one who had so openly opposed him. “Who is your master?” he demanded.
“Men die!” the stubborn creature growled. The fire devoured it.
“Who is your master?” Thalasi demanded of the other four, witnesses to the folly of their peer’s defiance.
They gave themselves over to him wholeheartedly.
Thalasi released them from the fiery pillars and swept his fisted hand in a wide arc. Again the flame leaped out from him, this time reaching out behind the swamp talon army, building a deadly barrier behind them to discourage those who had started to flee. When the herding was completed, Thalasi shut down the magic, hoping that he had not revealed himself to his distant enemies.
“I am Thalasi!” he said yet again. “Follow me, join in my war! Taste the blood of Calvans!”
The rivalry of swamp talons and mountain talons had spanned centuries, grown since the first defeat of Morgan Thalasi on the Four Bridges. But none dared resist the specter of power that loomed before them now, and none wanted to resist the promises of man-flesh.
Thalasi walked across the
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