Chapter 93: Lore Master

A roar ripped the night, and they watched as four gargoyles slaughtered the coshey, slicing the magical elven hound open and leaving him to die. Karl made as if to move, but then he must have realized it was all a vision and froze in place, his mouth open in horror and disgust.

Jamairlo fell against the brick wall, his body bleeding in dozens of places, the sword slipping in his blood-drenched hand. Then they watched as Rhychard rounded the corner of the small twenty-five-dollar-a-plate bistros at the end of the strip, leaving the quietness of downtown and entering hell. Quite well did Rhychard remember that night and the horror that lay before him as he stared and gawked at what he thought were giant bats attacking some actor from a reenactment of Lord of the Rings. The blond elf knelt on one knee, trying to hold himself steady with a hand on the brick wall. His other hand held the sword he used to keep the creatures at bay, although a futile attempt.