Kingdom of Ash

to the south. Beyond Morath’s teeming ranks.
Beyond the sea of blackness, to the foothills
that bordered the edge of Theralis’s sprawling
plain.
Again, that horn blared, a roar of defiance.
“That’s no horn of Morath,” Lysandra
breathed.
And then they appeared. Along the edge of
the foothills. A line of golden-armored
warriors, foot soldiers and cavalry alike. More
and more and more, a great line spreading
across the crest of the final hill.
Filling the skies, stretching into the
horizon, flew mighty, armored birds with
riders. Ruks.
And before them all, sword raised to the
sky as that horn blew one last time, the ruby
in the blade’s pommel smoldering like a small
sun ...
Before them all, riding on the Lord of the