He squirmed back, between two of the battlements on the parapet.
Blayne charged forward, dropping his sword, pushing with both hands. Billings toppled over the wall, screaming for just a moment before he landed on his back, disappearing beneath the layer of gas that ebbed and flowed in the courtyard. Blayne watched for a moment, making sure that the traitor didn’t get up from the ground.
By then the first of the Dark Knights were through the gates. Blayne frantically released the winch, and the portcullis came crashing down, splitting the formation in two. He looked down to see that only a score of black-clad horsemen were inside the city. They dismounted with smooth efficiency.
“Up there!” cried the masked priest, indicating the tower where Blayne stood alone. “Kill him and open the gates again!”
In a rush, the Dark Knights headed for the stairway leading up to the gatehouse platform. Blayne raised his sword, already slick with Billings’s blood, and took a position at the top of the stairs.
He wondered what it would be like to die.
Coryn teleported directly to the temple of Kiri-Jolith, where she startled Melissa du Juliette in the midst of her midday prayers.
“I’m sorry for intruding, but I think I’ve located Selinda!” the white wizard exclaimed.
“You found her? Where is she?”
“Actually, I’ve located the ring I gave her. It’s in the city, near the waterfront. I can find the place, I’m certain.”
“Let’s go!” the high priestess said, dropping her prayer beads and throwing a ceremonial cloak over her shoulders. She snatched up a stout cudgel of ironwood with a steel cap at the head. Impressed, Coryn noted the formidable weapon and hoped they wouldn’t need it.
The two women hurried from the temple, one in her robe of immaculate whiteness, the other in the flowing green garment of her high station. After a moment’s consideration, they wrapped themselves in cloaking magic, muting the distinctive colors of their garments so it looked as though they were both wearing simple woolen cloaks. Coryn led them toward the waterfront, and they quickly made their way down a dark street, so narrow it was almost an alley. It was well after nightfall, and the darkness was thick around them.
“Hello, pretty ladies,” came a voice from the shadows. “What brings such illustrious lovelies to our little corner of the city? May I welcome you to the Hale and Farewell? I am Hale, himself!”
He lifted a hand, indicating the dark door behind him. Coryn saw a flash of silver on his finger and felt a jolt of recognition. He wore the ring!
The man continued speaking as he limped toward the door to his establishment. “I guarantee you will find the finest-”
Hale never got to finish his remark as a blast of magic struck him from behind, propelling him into the door, which cracked and broke open under the impact of the man’s body. He sprawled on the floor just within the entry.
But Hale was tougher than he looked. He jumped up from the floor, drawing his dagger as the two women pushed after him. An unseen force knocked him against the wall of the room, so hard that he slumped to the floor. Struggling against the unseen power, he dropped his knife and raised his hands in front of his face.
The two females came closer, and close up they looked very different than when he had accosted them on the street. One was dressed in a pure white robe, and the other wore a cloak of bright green, emblazoned with the fist of Kiri-Jolith. Hale uttered a strangled sound, holding up his hands as he struggled to his feet.
Melissa du Juliette, high priestess of Kiri-Jolith, raised a hand and the invisible hammer of her god-the force that had blasted Hale against the door-slammed into the man again.
Stunned, Hale collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.
Coryn stood over him, the sheer brightness of her white robe causing him-and every other patron in the place-to throw up a hand against the blinding glare. “Where is she? The woman who wore that ring in here?”
“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hale murmured, reaching to cover the ring with his right hand.
Coryn gestured, and a sparking missile smashed against his free hand, drawing a howl of pain. Hale lifted his burned, blistered fingers to his mouth, groaning.
“Tell us!” demanded the priestess. “Or her next missile will be a death blow!”
“She-I turned her over-she’s in the palace! The lord regent’s palace-he sent his agent to collect her!”
Coryn blinked in surprise at the news, but that didn’t stop her from stepping on the man’s ankle and pressing down with her weight. “Did you hurt her? Or her baby?”
“She’s pregnant?” Hale gasped, clearly horrified. “But-but, she drank the Red Lotus!”
“If you gave her something that will hurt that baby…” Melissa warned.
“No, it’s not that. By the gods, this is horrible! I never thought-ah, no! We all have to beware!” Hale wriggled pathetically, looking around in abject terror. “The Red Lotus-”
Nobody saw the man in black, sitting in a shadowy alcove near the rear of the room. He raised his hand and made a simple gesture. Hale grasped his throat, choking and retching horribly.
“Speak! What is it?” demanded Melissa, kneeling beside him, trying to pry his hands away from his throat. By the time they did come free, Hale was dead.
“Ankhar escaped-with most of his ogres,” reported Sergeant Ian.
“Where in the Abyss did they go?” demanded Jaymes, holding a poultice over his chest where the wizard’s magic missiles had scorched him.
Ian shrugged apologetically. “I can’t say, Excellency. But the prisoners swear there was a blue circle on the side of the building and that Ankhar and many of his ogres passed through it. Wherever they went, it wasn’t inside of the shed. The wall is as solid as ever.”
“Are you all right?” Dram asked gruffly, coming up to Jaymes as the man rose, head down, to stand amid the corpses of the ogres who had defended the route of retreat.
“I think so,” Jaymes said, nodding feebly. He swayed weakly until Dram’s strong hands took his arm, supporting him. The emperor cracked a small smile and nodded up the slope toward the three mine tunnels that loomed blackly overhead. “Nice timing on your attack, old friend.”
“I could same the same for you. I think Ankhar would have waited us out forever-at least, until long after our food was gone. We were locked in a deathtrap of our own making.”
“Who’d have thought the old bastard would come down the mountains at you?” Jaymes said, shaking his head.
“I guess we should of thought about it,” Dram said, shuddering at the memory of how close to disaster they had come. “After all, he was in these hills before we were.”
“Yes, those were the days,” Jaymes said, again allowing that small smile. “Riding after goblins, collecting bounties, watching each other’s backs-”
“And looking out for the knights at every turn,” Dram interrupted. “Ducking and hiding like the outlaws we were. I never imagined you’d end up commanding the whole bunch of them Salamis!”
“Life has taken some funny turns I guess you could say.” Jaymes turned through a slow circle, scrutinizing the devastation that was everywhere in New Compound. He stared at the smoldering remnants of the great bonfire in which Ankhar had burned the dozen uncompleted bombards. The timbers hadn’t burned away completely, and the massive rings of spring steel stood out like great hoops, but it was clear nothing would be salvaged from those ashes.
“I… I started to make them bombards,” Dram said awkwardly. “But only after I heard Ankhar was on the march. I guess you got my letter?”
“Yes. You didn’t like what I had done to Vingaard Keep, and you assumed I’d use the bombards against more cities, didn’t you?”
“Would you?” the dwarf asked bluntly.
“I shouldn’t have used them at Vingaard,” Jaymes admitted, surprising even himself. “And no, I don’t think I’d have used them anymore against my own cities, no matter what. I lost my temper when the young lord made a surprise attack and burned two of my guns.”
Jaymes rubbed a hand across his eyes, wiping away sweat and grime. “He was a courageous fellow, gnat though he was. And he had good reason to hate me, I have to admit; his father died in my custody.”
