Chapter 60: Victory

Faro hit the ground and rolled to his feet, wincing as the sandstone pavement scraped his legs. The city around him was a disaster area, buildings cracked and twisted from dragonfire. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the crackle of Sparks lightning as he called the dragons to face him. The sound of howling in the distance suggested the forces of Wethelnar clashing with the invading Urts. But Faro ignored that. His gaze was set firmly on the palace ahead.

A pack of Urts had clustered by the doors, furiously trying to get in. The scraping sent shivers down his spine, but he drew his sword nevertheless. "Hey!" he roared. "Over here, you damn mutts!"

The Urts heard his cry and turned to face him. About twenty growling fiends, swords stained with blood and viscera.

Whoops.

"What happened to holding the line?"

Faro smiled as Evartan appeared by his side. "I left that to the professionals," he replied. "How are things in here?"