'It shall have to be one at a time,' mused the bandit captain, startling them with his casual return to the topic of murder. 'The look on the survivor's face is not a treasure that I would care to waste. But which of you first? I really would like you to make a suggestion.'
Once again Kelryn's fingers tightened around the bloodstone, and as green light seeped through the dungeon, Dan saw that the gem was pulsing with renewed power.
Danyal's mouth opened and his tongue jerked reflex-ively, but he gagged on words that seemed drawn to the power of the bloodstone, that rose like bile in his throat. Spitting and coughing, he shook his head, drawing a sigh of disappointment from the false priest of Fistan-dantilus.
'Now, climb!' barked Kelryn Darewind as they reached the foot of the stairway. Mirabeth still led the way, and Danyal allowed her to advance several steps before he started after her. Once more he thought of trying to resist, though he still couldn't manipulate his arms. Could he throw himself backward, try to carry the bandit lord down the steep steps? Perhaps he could badly injure, even kill the man!
Buoyed by the sudden hope, Dan worked his head around, getting a glimpse of his captor. He was dismayed to see that Kelryn Darewind had drawn his sword as he followed them onto the stairs. Any maneuver such as the lad had contemplated would only result in a gory wound for himself.
Slumping in despair, Danyal turned his attention to the climb. Each step seemed to emerge from a haze before his face, and he found his feet rising without conscious direction as he gradually ascended.
They came to the door at the top of the stairs, and Mirabeth pushed it open, shuffling into the great hallway beyond. Danyal followed, and Kelryn came last. He still held his blade, but he seemed to be most concerned with the green gem that still glowed between his fingers.
'Go that way,' he declared, pointing toward the curve that Dan remembered led toward the entry hall with the tall, tapestry-lined walls. The corridor had been illuminated by only a pair of candles before, but now a dozen or more torches burned in sconces spaced along each of the walls. The youth didn't see any of the other bandits, but he heard shouts from outside; he could only hope that Emilo, at least, had gotten to a place of safety. With a grimace of heartache, he wondered again what had become of Foryth.
'These depict great moments in the history of my temple,' the would-be priest declared, gesturing toward the long strands of fabric. The artistry might once have been splendid, but the bright colors had faded, and the fringes of the tapestry were tattered and moth-eaten.
His hands still stretched over his head, Danyal couldry t have been less interested in the soot-blackened banners. Yet as he flexed his numbing fingers, trying to think of something, anything, useful to do, he suddenly had the flash of an idea.
'That picture,' said the lad, pointing toward the nearest tapestry. He stepped right up to it, vaguely discerning a crowd scene and a depiction of a large square edifice. 'What is it?'
'The tapestry displays the laying of our temple in Haven's outer wall.' Kelryn spoke with animation and interest. 'You see? There I stand to oversee the work.'
The man stepped up to the embroidered illustration, indicating a figure outlined in green light, standing like a rod atop a small pyramid of square stone blocks. The Seeker priest stared admiringly at the handiwork, and the lad sensed that the man's attention and desire had shifted momentarily, coming to rest in his reminiscences of those days of glory.
Dan saw his chance. Hands still upraised, he seized the edge of the tapestry and threw himself backward, instantly hurling all his weight and momentum onto the support of the ancient fabric.
Please give way! His prayer was desperate and, apparently, successful: The long swath of cloth tore near the top, and a great, dusty shroud tumbled downward, burying Kelryn Darewind, his sword, and his green bloodstone.
As soon as the bandit lord disappeared, Dan felt his arms drop, freed from the spell as the green light was smothered. Instantly he had the dagger out, ready to slash at the form that struggled beneath the billowing layers of the tapestry.
'Danyal-this way! Hurry!' Mirabeth took his arm and pulled before he could make his attack. He heard footsteps and saw the flaring of bright torchlight from the direction of the kitchen.
Groaning in frustration but recognizing the need to flee immediately, Danyal followed the lass as she darted through the entry hall. The manor gates, he was surprised to see, were standing open. Torches flared among the crude cottages of the village, and he guessed that some of the men, alarmed by Emilo's diversion, must have charged out of the fortified structure to investigate.
And then the two of them were through the gates, plunging down the sloping ground beyond the wall. With a sharp turn away from the road to the bridge, Danyal pulled Mirabeth into the deep shade of a small barn.
Panting, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, he looked around, assessing their surroundings.
But he wasn't expecting to see anyone as close as the figure who rose to stand right beside him.
With a reflexive twist, Dan raised his knife, pushed Mirabeth aside, and stabbed.
CHAPTER 35
Second Kirinor, Reapember
374 AC
'Wait!' The familiar voice jolted Danyal, giving the lad barely enough time to check the deadly blow he had intended to land.
'Emilo?' Danyal sagged backward, allowing the dagger to fall away from the shadowy figure. 'I–I almost didn't recognize you! You could have-I could have…'
'Don't worry. It's me, and I'm all right. I see you heard my diversion. Oh, and hi, Mirabeth!' declared the kender. 'I'm really glad to see you!'
'Thanks-thanks to all of you-for coming after me,' she replied. But then she looked around, seeking someone else in their hiding place, which was the shadowy alcove behind a small barn. 'Where's Foryth?'
'Still in there, I guess.' Danyal shook his head in despair. 'I told him to stay with me, to be careful, but he wandered off before we'd been inside for ten minutes!'
'I don't know if we can afford to wait for him,' Emilo said ruefully. 'It kind of puts the whole plan in trouble.'
'What choice do we have, besides waiting here?' argued the youth. 'Did you see how many men were gathered at the base of the bridge?' He gestured into the torchlight at the end of the little lane, where a small knot of bandits milled about.
'Yes.' Emilo didn't sound concerned. 'Actually, I don't think they'll be there long.'
'Why?' asked Danyal incredulously.
The kender made no answer. Instead, he cocked an ear to the side, clearly expectant of some noise.
Within seconds, a great boom resounded through the night, echoing back from the neighboring mountain as a cascade of orange flame leapt into the air from the far side of the manor's walls. A heavy thud rumbled through the ground under their feet, and debris clattered around them while the fire flared into a brightness like false daylight.
'You did that?' Danyal asked, amazed and impressed.
'That used to be a shed just outside the stronghold,' Emilo said smugly. 'See if they'll ever store all their kegs of lamp oil in one place again!'
The band of men who had been guarding the end of the bridge now raced in a mob toward the scene of the explosioii. Flaming oil had been cast in a great arc around thfe blast, and several neighboring cottages and a haystack'were all crackling into a lively conflagration. The guardsmen were joined by others from the manor as everyone within sight labored to fight the flames, shoveling dirt onto the fire or, more rarely, casting a bucket of precious water on some particularly vulnerable outpost of the blaze.
'D'you think that will hold their attention?' asked the kender nonchalantly, leaning against the wall of the
