/lit/ - Literature

More actual sorcery:

Under the direction of the wounded Saubon, the longbowmen of Agmundr raked the heights of the inner wall, forcing the Enathpanean and Kianene archers to shelter behind crenellations. Someone raised the Mark of Agansanor, the Black Stag, upon one of the outer towers. A great shout was raised by the Inrithi encircling the heights.

Then came a light more blinding than the sun. Men cried out, pointing to mad, saffron-robed figures hanging between the towers of the black keep. Eyeless Cishaurim, each with two snakes wrapped about their throats.

Threads of unholy incandescence waved across the outer wall like ropes in water. Stone cracked beneath the flashing heat. Hauberks were welded to skin. The Tydonni crouched beneath their great tear-shaped shields, leaning against the light, shouting in horror and outrage before being swept away. The Agmundrmen fired vainly at the floating abominations. Teams of Chorae Crossbowmen watched bolt after bolt whistle wide because of the range.

The tall knights of Ce Tydonn were decimated. Many, seeing the hopelessness of their plight, brandished their longswords, howled curses until the end. Others ran. Those who could scrambled down the ladders. Several warriors leapt from the battlements, their beards and hair aflame. An unholy torrent consumed Gothyelk’s Standard.

Then the lights flickered out.

For a moment all was silent save for those left screaming upon the heights. Then the Kianene upon the walls burst into cheers. They rushed across the stolen summits, cast those Tydonni still living from the wall, including Gothyelk’s youngest son, Gurnyau. Mad with grief, the old Earl had to be dragged away.

The Men of the Tusk withdrew in turmoil. Riders were dispatched, charged with finding the Scarlet Spires, who’d yet to enter Caraskand. They bore but one message: “Cishaurim defend the Citadel of the Dog.”