Windrush's sight the other dragon's amber-glowing eyes, and the faces of
others who were gathering close to listen-"and your demons and your visions.
You test our patience, as we watch our brothers fall, and our lumenis vanish!"
Windrush was nearly speechless. "How can you saydon't you understand-?"
He was drowned out by a rising grumble from the dragons gathered around.
"Take us to battle!" a dragon behind him cried. "Or someone else will!"
Windrush drew a long, deep breath and turned to see who was present.
Many were simple warriors, some were leaders. Their voices told him that
Stronghold was telling the truth. If he wanted to keep the dragons united
behind him, he could delay no longer. This was not the time to tell anyone
about FullSky, or to speak of the ifflings, or of
Jael.
He saw it in the eyes of the dragons gathered, and in those emerging from the
sleeping warrens to learn what was happening, and in those just now landing
from their grief flight.
These dragons were angry. They wanted battle, not patience, and if they did
not find the leadership in Windrush, they would find it in
SearSky, or in another. "I see," Win@ drush said at last.
"Do you-?" began another dragon.
"Silence!" Windrush roared.
The grumbling stopped.
Windrush hardened his gaze to a glare. "Leaders! To the Vale of
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Decision! Now!"
Cries of triumph went up. Windrush expelled a long plume of smoke, and
ignoring the shouts, leaped into the air. A dozen or more dragons followed,
while others trumpeted their approval from the ground.
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Windrush flew southeast, over the target wall and over a low ridge of
mountains, flanked by the flight of angry dragons. He crested the north wall
of the Vale of Decision and dropped toward the dry stream bed at the bottom of
the rocky vale.
He landed on the flat command stone at the head of the valley and watched as
the dragon leaders came in, soaring and blasting the air with fire. Farsight
was not among them; the meeting would have to go on without him.
" My brothers!" he called, his voice thundering out over the vale.
He, too, was being carried along by rage. "It is said that the time has come
to let our anger burn against the Enemy! What is your voice?"
A rumble of approval went up, with smoke and fire.
"One at a time! Give me your counsel! Give me your thoughts!"
Another roar went up, as the dragons vented their rage.
He waited a few moments, then bellowed for silence. When he had their
attention, he called to the dragon sitting closest on his left, "Winterfall!
Your counsel!"
"Strike at the Black Peak!" trumpeted the sandy-white dragon.
A fresh cry went up. Windrush expelled a doubtful plume of smoke.
The Black Peak was a battle already fought. It was true, they had not
stretched their limited fighting power to hold the peak where Jael had won her
victory. And in the absence of spell-wielding guardian dragons, the peak was,
for all practical purposes, under the Enemy's control again. But its value at
this point was unclear.
Windrush kept his doubts to himself. "Hailfar! Your counsel!"
"Strike at the Dark Vale!" thundered Hailfar, next in the row.
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A less animated roar went up. Strike at the Enemy's heartland?
The seat of Tar-skel's sorcery and terror, and perhaps his own dwelling place?
If they could conceivably destroy the Enemy at the
Dark Vale, the war would be won. But the Dark Vale was heavily protected by
drahls, by Tar-skel dragons, and most of all by sorcery.
Windrush knew perfectly well that his dragons could not win such a battle-not
without far greater strength in the underrealm. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]