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Del
jumped back from the horse he was brushing.
"Lord
Calamus draws near," Andovar answered to his questioning look.
"Who?"
The ranger
pointed toward the eastern sky. "Calamus," he repeated
solemnly, "winged Lord of Horses." The men turned to scan the
sky, shielding their eyes from the early morning glare. As soon as the
sight registered, they stood with their mouths agape, for coming in low,
under the fiery ball of the rising sun, was the unmistakable and
unbelievable silhouette of a winged horse bearing a rider.
"Pegasus,"
Reinheiser muttered.
"It
can't be," Mitchell gasped. He stood perplexed. Everything that had
come before, the talons, the Colonnae, the Emerald Room, even the
whip-dragon, Mitchell could rationalize away as a deception or some form
of technology. But now this. Pegasus! There was no explanation. The
beast approaching was not mechanical or a trick of makeup. His breathing
coming hard, he had to concentrate to keep his balance, forced now to
accept that this whole adventure wasn't merely a game. Even amidst the
craziness and the death, Mitchell had held on to the hope that it was
all some elaborate scheme.
Reality
proved persistent, though. The building evidence had pushed Mitchell's
belief further and further back in his mind, and now this flying horse
shoved it out completely, taking with all his hopes of returning to a
more controlled, more organized, and more familiar environment.
Seconds
later the magnificent steed landed in the little knoll and Belexus
hopped off its back. It was pure white, with a thick silvery mane that
shimmered in the sunlight and hinted at an intelligence that transcended
its equine frame.
"Where
did you get him?" Del asked, actually trembling with excitement.
"Belexus
won him," Andovar answered. "Spoils of the dragon's
lair."
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