ok lets see. you all want jonathan dead, and so far its george, alanna, onua, thayet, neal, kel, cleon, and others im too lazy to list. but i am reading the reviews and will try put the people in,
no, numair is dead. i heard that about a thousand times already. hes dead. its too bad.
The Fall of Tortall: Those Left Behind
The gods stood in a circle around their sister, now imprisoned in a cage of dead matter and starfire. She shrieked, clawing at the sides. The gods slowly turned their backs on her and returned to their thrones in the Divine realms.
The abandoned one screamed her anguish, slamming her twisting body at her confinements. For many months she continued this self destructive plight.
How she hated those puny inhabitants of Tortall! She was the goddess. Her plans, all thwarted, by a few key mortals! In her fury, she planned carefully for revenge.
Then, two years later, a chink was found in her cage. Snarling in pleasure, she slammed her weight and power against it, and burst free. Shards of cage matter flooded the sky.
She flew through the air, reveling in her freedom.
Mithros and his gods were conferring quietly when an explosion startled them from their ambrosial seats. Sister Chaos shot into the air, her multicolored servants twirling around her. He yelled even as Mother and Father yanked her back.
But it was too late. Grinning in her victory, the Queen of Chaos threw her final vindicative move. Raising an oozing, changing palm, she hurled a ball of venomous Chaos at Tortall before sinking into darkness.
Those in Tortall felt the pulsing tide, then the sky exploded.
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Nearby, thirteen year old Kelandry of Mindelan crawled out of a rock pile. Others began to emerge, stunned at the sudden destruction of their home. Gathering near Daine, the small crowd fell silent. Bodies lay everywhere. Most were crying, discovering the mangled remains of their families and friends.
A dishevled Roald of Conte, with a broken arm and blood running down his face, quickly took count of the group. Four pages, one squire, three ladies, a handful of noblemen, seven riders, and ten servants. Shuddering, he closed his eyes.
Clearing his throat, Roald gave it his best shot. "We must look for other survivors." Kel, Neal, Cleon, Duke Baird, and Sarge nodded shakenly. The women kept crying, evidently oblivious of his words. Carefully, the group split up to search the awful site.
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"Jasson!" Neal cried. The young boy was struggling beneath a large beam, his leg probably broken. With a heave, he moved the object and was about to lend a hand when Daine swept by.
"Daine?" She ignored him, her eyes lost.
She turned, face haunted by grief. Neal felt his heart twist for her. She held a scrap of black cloak in her hand, streaked with dirt and blood. "I cant stay."
She turned and walked away.
Jasson was breathing hard in pain. With care, Neal lifted the boy gently and tried not to jostle his leg.
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Kel had assembled the survivors. There were about sixty of them, from royal persons to scullery drudges, but all were grieving together.
Thayet and Roald sat together, holding Jasson's hands. The Queen's face was streaked with tears as she wept into the King's empty crown. Roald had bit his lip so hard that it was bleeding, yet he could not control his tears.
Baird was bounding a guard's leg wound, his face worried and shocked. When he saw Neal approaching, he finished the bandage then ran to his son. They held each other in mutual pain, trying to give comfort to the other.
Out of the Royal Family, only Thayet, Roald, and Jasson had lived.
Out of the Pages, one small Ikel was alive, bearing a broken arm.
Out of the Squires, Neal, Kel, Cleon, Joren, and Faleron were there.
Neal fell to his knees, and wept as he was surrounded by his four remaining peers. They huddled together, even Joren, in anguish. What did it matter that they were enemies? They were all that was left.
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