The Cavalier - By Jason McWhirter Page 0,155

will be faster that way.”

“Very well,” replied Taleen. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kiln stood above her while Jonas knelt down and held her hands. Taleen squeezed his hands as Kiln gripped the shaft and put the other hand on her shoulder for leverage. “Ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Taleen replied through gritted teeth.

“I am,” Jonas added. His eyes were already closed. Kiln tightened his grip and jerked the shaft out with one quick pull. The bolt held for a second and Taleen groaned in pain. Then it ripped free from her flesh and crimson blood gushed from the wound. Taleen leaned over in pain as Jonas flooded her with healing magic.

He felt the power push through him as he asked Shyann for her help. Kiln watched as Jonas’s hands glowed a bright blue. The magic entered Taleen as Jonas concentrated on mending her shoulder. There was no damage to the bone so he was able to focus on mending the torn flesh, cartilage, and blood vessels.

Taleen stood up straighter as the wound sealed and the pain began to recede. Finally Jonas’s work was finished and he opened his eyes. Taleen was staring at him with gratitude. “Very good, Jonas, your power is truly amazing. You healed my wound perfectly and you did it so quickly.”

Jonas stood up, happy that he could help her. “I am glad that I could take away your pain.”

Taleen got to her feet, testing her shoulder by spinning her arm. There was no pain, and it moved smoothly. Kiln set the bloody shaft on the table and looked at them both. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us.”

Ten

War

Lord Moredin had seen many things in his life but the sight of the Banthra so near him was unnerving. The darkness of the beast lay upon everything and everyone like a dense fog. He felt the evil of the demon permeate his very bones as he glanced over at the Banthra who was standing several paces away in the shadows of his tent.

Several months ago the demon appeared and demanded he give his allegiance to Malbeck, allegiance that he had no choice but to give, for the alternative was death. Laying siege to Finarth was not something that he was looking forward to, but after looking at his new allies, he thought to himself that the venture could turn very profitable. The Banthra had brought in thousands of orcs, goblins, ogres, tribesmen from the flatlands, and even several hundred boargs. Combined with the thousands that he could summon and the thousands that would come from Prince Bomballa, the outlook for this coming war seemed bright indeed. Besides, it was just the prelude to Malbeck’s advancing army, who, when he arrived, would destroy his enemies and reward his allies. At least that is what Moredin hoped. But did he really have a choice? He didn’t think so.

The war council was assembled and the large spacious tent was filled with faces he knew, and faces he’d rather never see again. Ongessett, chief of the orcs, stood to his right looking down at the map sprawled out across the table. The orc war chief stood a full head taller than Moredin and his bulky mass looked half as wide as he was tall. He wore heavy plate mail interlinked with black leather. Any gaps in his protection were filled with charcoal gray chain mail. Ongessett’s massive neck supported a misshapen skull with a protruding pig like snout and thick lips that curled up exposing yellow fangs. His dark beady eyes scanned the map and Lord Moredin could see him struggling to process its intricate details. Ongessett was intelligent as far as orcs go, but that certainly did not mean that he could comprehend all that was being discussed. Moredin was not considered a good man, but even he didn’t like his present company.

The Banthra stepped closer to the table and Lord Moredin and the others shifted nervously away from it. The black knight wore dark armor covered with runes written in a language that Lord Moredin did not understand. The Banthra’s helm was made from dark steel, like his armor, and covered with serrated spikes. The most frightening part of the black knight’s visage was its eyes, two red glowing orbs of pure hatred that penetrated the black narrow eye slits. Other than the eye slits, the helm covered its entire face. There was not even an opening for its mouth.

Lord Moredin glanced at the others surrounding

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