But her voice was drowned in the terrifying blood-roar of the Joinings as they finally broke into a run. Behind them came the Legion.
Rayvan scrambled back as the beasts reached the wall. They needed no ropes and ladders – at full run they leapt, scrambling over the fifteen-foot rampart.
Shining steel met snarling fangs and ripping talons, but the first of the defenders were swept away. Rayvan thrust her sword into a gaping mouth and the Joining fell back, its teeth snapping the blade. Ananais blinked, dragging himself back to the present. Both his swords flashed in the bright sunshine. A beast towered over him but, stepping inside the first vicious sweep of an axe, Ananais plunged his right-hand sword into the creature’s belly, twisting as the blade rammed home. A ghastly howl came from the Joining and it slumped forward, blood drenching the black-garbed warrior. Ananais pushed the beast clear, wrenching his blade from its body as another came to him, swinging a mace. He dropped his right-hand sword, took a double-handed grip on the left and sliced the blade through the creature’s arm. Its taloned hand flew into the air, still clutching the mace as, screaming in pain and fury, it leapt at Ananais. The warrior ducked and drove his sword two-handed into the beast’s belly as it went over him; it tore the sword from his hands.
Balan leapt from the battlements and ran back some twenty paces. Turning, he knelt on the grass and closed his eyes. Somewhere in all this pain and horror there had to be a purpose and a triumph. Yesterday the combined force of The Thirty had turned the Joinings back into men. Now there was only Balan.
He emptied his mind of all thought, reaching for the serenity of the Void, building his lack of thought into a channel to the beasts. He reached out . . .
And recoiled from the blood-lust and fury. Steeling himself he reached out once more.
Hate! Terrible, burning, all-consuming hate. He felt it and burned with it, hating the Joinings, their masters, Ananais, Rayvan and the world of untainted flesh.
No. Not hate. No hate. The horror washed over and past him. He was untouched, unsullied. He would not hate a man-made monster, nor even the man who had made them so.
The wall of hatred was all around him, but he pushed back.
He could not find a single memory to jolt the beasts, for they were not ex-Dragon, but he used the only emotion he could be sure they had known as men.
Love.
Love of a mother in a cold frightening night; love of a wife when all around you prove false; love of a daughter given so freely in a swift hug, in the first smile of a babe; love of a friend.
Growing in power, he sent out his feelings like a wave upon sand.
On the walls the carnage was terrible.
Ananais, bleeding from a dozen cuts and slashes, watched in horror as a Joining leapt at Rayvan and bore her from the battlements. He jumped after them. She twisted in the air and the Joining landed on its back with Rayvan above it. Her weight hammered the air from its lungs and, seeing her chance, she rammed her dagger into its neck, rolling clear as the beast lashed out with its talon. It reared drunkenly to its feet and Ananais plunged his blade into the creature’s back.
Above them the line broke and the beasts swept on over the battlements. The Skoda survivors broke and ran, but the Joinings surged after them, hacking them down.
Suddenly the beast closest to Balan staggered, dropping its sword and holding its head. A howl of despair filled the air and everywhere the Joinings fell back as the Skoda warriors watched in disbelief.
‘Kill them!’ shouted Galand, running forward and hacking his sword through a furry neck. The spell broke and the Skoda men fell upon the dazed beasts, cutting them down in scores.
‘No,’ whispered Balan. ‘You fools!’
Two Joinings turned on the kneeling priest. A mace thundered down, smashing him from his feet, then talons ripped away his chest and his soul was torn screaming from his flesh.