THE WIZARD AND THE SYLPH
Chapter Twenty-four
The Beginning Of The End
In the days following the initial battle for the Valley of Baruk, Akaru watched the rising of the sun in the east as it traced its baleful arc over the Burning Lands, and thought that he had never seen a sight so stark, so fatal, so full of dark portents and premonitions. He saw in the eyes of his soldiers that they too felt this defilement of the morning, and the manner in which it overshadowed the remainder of each day until it waned unto comfortless darkness. It was during this time that a nightmare like no other curdled his dreams, left him lying in his blankets in a cold sweat, and cursing the dawn and the Fates upon his awakening.
It was the elven girl he dreamt of, Rhia, her face pale, staring and terrified. She was soaked to the skin; rain wet her face; dripped from her plastered-down hair. It fell in slanting, slashing torrents and turned her surroundings grey and indistinct. High above, impossibly huge, terrifying black shapes wheeled through the murk and spume, belching fire, roaring until the rigging shuddered. All about, resembling a forest of bare trees in a winter gale, the ships rolled aimlessly upon the sea,
their sails removed so that they couldn't be burnt away by dragons' breath. Many vessels burned and smoked; there were cries and screams, and bucket brigades working frantically to stanch the fires that flared in dull red and sickly yellow hues through the gloom.