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The metal in the road had ripped open the oil pain on the blue convertible. Alison barely managed to get the car onto the side of the road before it came rolling to a halt. She switched off the ignition as she and Clare looked at each other. Of all the places for the car to break down, it had to be when the expressway passed through the worst part of town. Alison timidly got out of the car to take a quick look at the oil spill that marked the path that the car had traveled since it had hit the jagged metal bar. She got back in the car and locked the doors.Alison looked at Clare, smiled and said, "Don't worry, Nick gave me a cellular phone for just such emergencies." She pulled her phone from her purse and tried to turn it on. Her smile disappeared. "Of all the times to have a dead battery!" She cried as she shoved the phone back into her purse. Clare had left her phone back in Los Angeles. Now, she wished that she had brought it with her.A bus pulled over just a hundred feet or so. Thirty minutes later, the north wall of South Fort was engulfed in flame. Great salvos were launched from the trebuchets below, arcing through the sky like meteors before crashing atop the rift. Directly above me, the great bows of the elven ballistae were being cranked back, levered out from the cliffside to aim directly down. Directly below me was fifty feet of air before the hard earth. Ginger snarled, her great claws digging into the rockface as she lumbered up the shear wall. Hundreds of other warg-riders labored behind me, their beast’s talons screeching against the shale surface. They shot their crossbows in a vain attempt to dissuade the elves from aiming over the cliffs, but it was impossible to be accurate while aiming straight up, and impossible to miss when aiming straight down. I heard their archer commander give the order, and I clutched Ginger’s scruff for dear life. Hell rained down on us. The twang of arrows, the screech of ballista shot, the upending of great.
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