Chapter 12

Hot wind stung Liam Donal’s eyes as he sat on the back of a large griffin at the edge of Kolam Robak. The transition from the cold mountains of Marubean was shocking. Liam was leading the griffin cavalry on this portion of the raid. Half a world away, the Imperial Legions would be massing on the southern border of Yometh Robak, the Western Desert, preparing to invade. As soon as he was done here, he would fly west to join them.

The overland passage from Maruth to the Eastern Desert was treacherous and would have taken many months for infantry units. Given that the ‘enemy’ in this case were a bunch of desert men, Liam didn’t anticipate needing them. So far as he knew, there was only one major city in Kolam Robak, Dhereshu, the City of Magic.

That thought gave Liam pause. No one really knew the full extent of the magicians’ power. He wasn’t sure what sorts of defensive magic they could bring into play. So far as he had seen, magic could only be used to affect men’s minds. He didn’t fear any direct attacks. But who knew what the magicians could do when they set their mind to it.

Still, he had his orders, and he would follow them. So far as he knew, no one from the Empire had visited the City of Magic since the Pact of Dhereshu was signed in 614, and the desert people had agreed to provide their magical skills to the Empire in exchange for autonomy.

Little was known about the city, except its general location, marked on an ancient map, a copy of which Liam kept in his pack. He had intended to ask some of the magicians in the palace for information, even though he didn’t expect to get a lot of cooperation. It had proved moot, however, since all of the Imperial magicians seem to have vanished. Whether rounded up and shipped off to Osh’riyo, or on the move towards their desert homelands to give warning, Liam didn’t know.

What he did know was that no magic under the sun could move a man faster than a griffin. Therefore, he felt confident that this attack would come as a complete surprise to the residents of Dhereshu. He was counting on that surprise to help save lives. A quick, decisive strike should convince the people of the Eastern Desert to surrender without unnecessary loss of life.

No armed force had ever stood before the might of the Griffin Cavalry. The only reason there were three wars with Et’alash instead of one was that no one had found a way to get griffins overseas. They couldn’t fly the distances, and for whatever reason, they refused to be housed on ships.

Liam surveyed the vast expanse of sand before him. If his map was correct, Dhereshu should be directly to the east, about an hour’s flight. He turned in his saddle to check on the ranks of griffins arrayed behind him. It was an impressive sight to see. Although not nearly as impressive as the sight of rank after rank of griffins in flight.

Hopefully, that sight alone would be enough to end this war. If not, today could be bloody indeed.

With that grim thought, Liam raised his hand and his griffin leapt into the air. He brought his arm down and five hundred griffins arose with a thunderous flap of wings. His mount wheeled in the air as Liam made one last survey of his lines. Then, turning once again, he led his mounted men to the East, and to battle.

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