scream. They ran faster, panting. Then they burst into a chamber, a glance revealing: Hearst, tied hand and foot to a metal frame; a young man holding a bloodstained bodkin; half a dozen onlookers, all armed.
Miphon screamed: 'Ahyak Rovac!'
The battlesword Hast took out the nearest. As the rest drew weapons, Blackwood grabbed the tripod legs of a brazier and hurled its burning coals toward them. The torture chamber evoked all the horrors of Prince Comedo's dungeons. Snatching up an iron rod, Blackwood attacked, striking out furiously. Miphon fought beside him, reckless in his disregard for his own safety. He had lost everything he valued: nothing remained to tempt him to make the calculations of cowardice.
It was all over almost as soon as it had begun. Three of the armed men were dead. The rest: running for their lives.
'Are you hurt?' said Miphon to Hearst.
'Like a virgin unvirgined,' said Hearst. 'No, don't look for the damage, you blue-tailed pox doctor. Cut me loose! Quickly, man, quickly!' i don't want to cut you.'
'Don't worry about that, let's just get out of here.'
Miphon sliced away the last rope. Hearst, released from the metal frame, stumbled, almost fell. Deep-gouped rope patterns ringed his wrists and ankles. Blackwood supported him as they left the chamber.
'This way,' said Blackwood.
'How do you know?' said Miphon.
'The tunnel slants upwards here, doesn't it?'
'Why, so it does,' said Miphon.
They went as fast as they could, Hearst hobbling, Miphon still carrying Hearst's sword.
'Where's the green bottle?' said Miphon.
'Valarkin had it the last time I saw him,' said Hearst. 'That was shortly before… before you rescued me.'
Despite their long association, Hearst was reluctant to name a wizard as his rescuer. It had been bad enough at Selzirk, when Miphon had rescued Hearst from magic – a warrior cannot, after all, hope to fight magic directly. Here it was worse: to be rescued from armed men by a wizard wielding a Rovac sword.
'Where did he go?' said Miphon.
'He was called away,' said Hearst. 'One of Valarkin's cronies heard that the headman of the Secular Arm wanted a fellow called Esteneedes, who happened to be searching the red bottle that Valarkin's got stashed away somewhere. So Valarkin went to get the man out of the bottle. Up here?'
Ahead the corridor branched.
'This way,' said Blackwood, choosing at random. Then: 'I've been out hunting with Esteneedes. He's a noted tracker. The headman must be wanting to recruit him for a search party to look for us.'
'Valarkin miscalculated,' said Miphon. 'He thought nobody would try and look for us.'
'Yes,' said Blackwood. 'But obviously they're thinking of searching the countryside – not Veda itself.'
They came to some stairs. Hearst, now able to walk without support, led the way up. There was the distant boom of an explosion, followed by a protracted roar. The walls shook. Cracks opened. Pieces of luminous white fell from the ceiling.
'What was that?' said Hearst.
The stairs were vibrating under their feet. Miphon knew that never before had a wizard stripped himself of his powers, releasing uncontrolled energies into the world. He had no idea what the consequences might be: but he was learning fast. Quite possibly, the energies he had released might tear Veda apart.
'Come on,' he said.
'But what in hell's name is it?'
'Out!' cried Miphon. 'Out, or we're dead!'
They bounded up the stairs two at a time. More stairs led to more corridors; more corridors led to more stairs. Ever upwards they went. The journey started to become nightmarish. Sweat poured off them. Their legs began to lock with fatigue. Heart and lung strained to their limits. The vibrations got worse and worse. Huge chunks fell from the ceilings. Tunnels buckled and twisted.
They began to pass other people, most of whom were running in the same direction. Some, however, had been trapped or disabled by falling masonry. They could not stop to help these casualities.
There was another explosion, louder than the others. The surface underfoot swayed.
'We're never going to get out of here,' said Hearst.
But even as he spoke, they saw daylight. The sun shone through dust: the way to escape was in sight.
From a low hillock a thousand paces from Veda, 465 Miphon, Hearst and Blackwood watched the final stages of the disintegration of the stronghold of the sages. Occasionally rubble was flung high into the air with a shattering roar as blue-white energies burst out from underground.
'What did you do?' said Hearst, watching the dust settling after one of these explosions.
'What do you mean, what did I do?' said Miphon.
'Hearst's not the only one to think you're responsible,' said Blackwood. 'Nobody else has such power.' i've got no power now,' said Miphon sadly, i used it all in blasting my way out of the cell where Valarkin was holding me.'
'You did what you had to,' said Hearst, i only hope Valarkin and the death-stone are buried under that rubble.'
'This is a disaster,' said Miphon. 'The Confederation of Wizards will never believe it!' iil be there to help you make your explanations,' said Hearst.
'And me,' said Blackwood. 'As a friendly witness in the Court of the Highest Law.'
'Now let's get ourselves out of here,' said Hearst. 'Before the survivors organise themselves into a lynch mob.'
The travellers got to their feet. They had the clothes they stood up in, but no weapons except for Hearst's sword Hast. And no tents, pack animals, food, blankets. Not even a change of socks. And no money. It was going to be a hard journey, unless they could improve their position. Hearst looked around.
'We have to go back,' said Hearst. 'Despite the danger. We have to go back to Veda and loot the ruins. That's what I think.' iil trust your judgment,' said Miphon.
'Then I say we go,' said Hearst. 'Blackwood?'
The woodsman stooped and picked up a small, smooth rock. It fitted nicely into his hand.
'When I'm holding a weapon like this, who's going to oppose us?' 'That rock?' said Hearst.
'I'm going to say it's the death-stone,' said Blackwood. 'And if that's what I say, who's going to wait around to find out otherwise?'
'Of course,' said Hearst.
It was a good idea: he should have been the one to think of it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Posing as Galish merchants, they slipped through the Rice Empire, avoiding major centres of population. Miphon did no healing; he could have improvised some basic equipment, but decided healing-work might link them to the tales, rumours and legends that were circulating about Morgan Hearst and his companions.
When the Salt Road was busy, they travelled by night, stealing horses, riding them hard, then abandoning them or trading them for fresh mounts. They knew stories of the fall of Veda would move swiftly along the Salt Road; they wanted to be first to bring the news to the Castle of Controlling Power, so the Confederation of Wizards would hear the truth rather than some garbled distortion.
It was four hundred leagues from Veda to Narba; their sixteenth day on the road ended with Narba in sight. They slept in a corn field, breakfasted on stolen cobs of corn, then pushed on toward the city.
At Narba, much building was in progress. During years of peace, the city had sprawled outwards, so now many
