The steady hail of rocks and missiles dislodged the chilkit clinging to the ceiling. It fell with a crash and lay squirming on its back. The other monster climbing along the left-hand wall was pushing through the tumbledown barrier, slaying anyone within claw-reach.
Blinking back tears of rage and sadness, Vixa climbed atop the remnants of the barricade. The now one- handed chilkit she’d hit with gnomefire paste was busy trying to drag Garnath’s body back into the shadows. The yellow paste ran in slow streams down its front pair of legs. Several yards back into the darkness, the level of the steadily rising water reached the paste and ignited it.
The monster released Garnath’s body and whirled frantically, trying to scrape off the flaming mess. This only spread the flames to the rest of its body. Then the chilkit lowered itself into the water, trying to wash the gnomefire away. This fanned the blaze farther. The burning monster made strange bubbling sounds. The other two chilkit stopped their attacks and went to their comrade’s aid.
“Hit them with the gnomefire!” Vixa cried. “Seawater ignites it! Throw the pots!”
Armantaro and Harmanutis led the charge. All of Gundabyr’s supply of gnomefire was on their side of the barrier, so they had ample ammunition. Harmanutis proved to have a strong arm and good aim. He hit the nearest chilkit twice in succession. Flames roared in the tight passage, the heat driving the prisoners back. The chilkit collapsed, his body blazing. The one-handed monster, grievously burned, staggered backward. When it was nearly out of range, a pot smashed into the wall above it, and paste rained down on its head. The chilkit turned and fled, and the gnomefire burst into flame. The last chilkit beat a fast retreat, leaving its two fellows blazing.
The grotto resounded with cheers. Some of the men waded out from behind the barricade and battered the dead monsters with their clubs.
“Come back! Come back!” Armantaro called. “The water is still rising! We must get to higher ground!”
The immediate danger from the chilkit was over, but the more insidious peril of drowning was growing stronger. Despite Armantaro’s urging, there wasn’t really any higher ground in the grotto-the entire cave sloped downward to the pool entrance. All the prisoners collected by the pool. Water was streaming from the rear of the cave. Pots and jars of gnomefire floated everywhere. Gundabyr, his face bloody, reminded them of the danger. If the gnomefire got wet …
“Where are the Quoowahb?” someone shouted.
“Will they leave us to drown?” cried another.
“Vanthanoris may not have gotten through,” Harmanutis said grimly. He was cradling his left arm against his chest. A chilkit had gashed him badly.
The gnomefires at the rear still burned. By this light, and the feeble illumination of the Dargonesti globes, three hundred prisoners stared at each other helplessly, clinging to floating debris, the rough walls, or each other.
“E’li save us! They’re back!”
Four more chilkit had appeared near the original barricade. They stayed where they were out of respect for the firepots, but busily demolished the wreckage that was damming the water coming in from their excavation.
“Now would be a good time for an idea,” Vixa said, bumping into Gundabyr.
“Don’t ask this dwarf. I’m stumped.” Gundabyr wiped blood and soot from his face. He looked around at the floating prisoners. “Where’s Garnath got to? Garnath! Hey, Brother!”
Vixa clamped a hand on his arm and shook her head. Her anguished expression told him more than he wanted to know.
The sight of the chilkit had spurred some of the prisoners into taking a desperate gamble. They drew in great breaths of air and then went under, heading for the open sea outside. They could only hope that the Dargonesti would find them before they drowned. Vixa remained where she was, treading water valiantly. She couldn’t wager her life on so slim a hope. Not yet, anyway.
The four chilkit, reinforced by three newcomers, were advancing cautiously down the tunnel toward them. More and more men vanished below the water, fleeing the grotto. A chittering cry echoed through the cave. One of the chilkit had bumped a pot of gnomefire. It tilted, dumping its cargo into the water. Flames enveloped the creature, and its six cohorts promptly fled.
Rising water and burning gnomefire were using up the precious air. “It’s getting harder to breathe,” Vixa gasped.
“My lady,” Armantaro wheezed, “it has been a privilege serving-”
“Save your breath, Colonel!”
The chilkit regrouped, this time advancing with timbers clutched in their claws. They gently pushed aside all floating containers. Their comrade had succumbed to the fire. Its charred body spiraled slowly down to the pool, trailing noxious smoke. The stench was overpowering.
Vixa was nearly blind. Smoke was making her eyes stream. “I think drowning is preferable to this!” she said, gagging.
Gundabyr, miserable over the loss of his twin, said nothing. Armantaro agreed with her. “We’ll have to risk it,” he said. “On three-one, two, three!”
Taking a deep breath of the fetid air, Vixa ducked under the dark water. Kicking and sweeping out with her hands, she soon cleared the grotto’s mouth, the last drylander out. The sea was full of people-swimming, fighting, drowning. What looked like the whole Dargonesti army was massed on the plain in front of Urione. Vixa looked toward the wall across the Mortas Trench. What she saw stunned her.
The entire center section of the wall had fallen, and the area was filled with red-shelled chilkit. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
She bumped into something. Turning in the water, she saw the lifeless form of one of her fellow prisoners. The man’s long dark hair drifted across his face like a shroud, waving in the ocean currents.
Pressure built in Vixa’s chest. She had no breath left. She searched frantically for Armantaro, Harmanutis, or Gundabyr, but couldn’t make out any individuals in the dimness of the depths. Her limbs burned. Movement became harder and harder. Vixa began to sink.
Soft mud cradled her fall, covering her like a blanket. It was warm, so very warm and comfortable. She opened her mouth and let cold seawater fill her lungs.
Chapter 11
“How could this have happened?” Coryphene raged. His watch captain, Telletinor, stood rigidly at attention. The warrior had several minor wounds, but he held his stance proudly, eyes fixed ahead.
“Well?” demanded Coryphene. “How did the enemy bring down my wall?”
“They mined under the foundation, Excellence. The first we knew of it was when the center span collapsed.”
“How many were lost?”
“Most of the Silverside regiment. The Sea Horse regiment and the Queen’s Killer Whales were far enough from the wall that they weren’t affected.”
“And no one saw them coming-because I sent Naxos and the sea brothers to some far-off coastline!” Coryphene grabbed his heavy helmet and pulled it on. “Muster all troops! I will lead the guard out myself. I-”
A lightly clad Dargonesti youth, green blood streaming from a gash on his forehead, stumbled up to Coryphene and his assembled officers.
“Excellence … the enemy … at Four Squids Quay!” he panted.
“Zura take them! They’re in the city!” fumed the Protector. He turned to another of his officers. “Kantren, muster the army in the kelp gardens. You are in command. I will take the guard and repel the enemy at Four Squids Quay.” The officer saluted and raced away.
