The Emerald Scepter

blade drawn. As Pilos wafted up into the rafters where Emriana had hidden earlier that evening, he noted that the assassin had brought a number of Generon guards with him.

Laithe was yelling at Junce that they were escaping, jerking her head up toward the ceiling, but Pilos didn't wait around to see if the assassin figured out what she meant. He saw that Quill was not standing there, and instead had transformed into a mist himself, so he led the way out of the library. At the door, which was closed and was now guarded on both sides by two soldiers each, he simply imagined flowing through the crack at the top. As quickly as he considered it, it happened, and he slipped through the gap. None of the guards thought to look up as Pilos and Quill drifted along the ceiling of the corridor outside, though Laithe was yelling orders and curses back in the library.

Hetta, are you with me? Pilos asked as he wafted along.

Yes, child, I am still here. That was quick thinking, drinking those elixirs.

Pilos wanted to nod, but the sensation to do so was simply not there. Don't know why I thought of it, but I'm glad, he projected. Now we have to hope that we can stay this way long enough to get out of here. If we're still down in the bowels of the Generon when the potions wear off, we're in trouble.

Chimneys, Hetta thought. Go up.

Of course, Pilos realized. Good idea.

The priest sought out the next room along the corridor, and inside, he drifted toward a fireplace. From there it was a simple matter to follow the flue up, ignoring any connections that did not continue vertically. It was a long ascent, but as he neared the top, Pilos was helped by updrafts rushing along, carrying him ever faster toward the chimney top.

Soon enough, Pilos and Quill stood on a roof of the Generon, looking out over the city.

'That was an adventure,' the mercenary said, looking around. 'But how do we get down?'

Pilos shrugged. 'One thing at a time,' he said. 'Be glad we're not still down there.'

Quill nodded in agreement. 'It looks like we can drop over that side and climb down to a balcony,' he said, pointing.

Pilos followed the man to the edge of the section of roof where they had just exited. Directly under them was a colonnaded walkway, and beyond that, there were gardens. 'I guess I'm going to be climbing around the Generon after all,' he muttered, thinking of Emriana. It seemed like an eternity ago that she had tried to convince him that they would need to climb over a wall to sneak inside. He almost laughed at the irony that he was climbing down to sneak out, but thoughts of her quelled any mirth he might have felt.

Don't worry, child, we'll find her, Hetta said, her presence soothing him. She's a strong girl. She'll be all right.

I hope so, Pilos replied. Then he dropped down and swung his legs out over the edge of the roof, hoping he would find a safer way of getting down than falling.

Emriana's strength eventually gave out, and sometime after she had stopped fighting him, Denrick turned to Lobra and said, 'I grow weary of this. Torment her yourself, if you must, but I am done.' And he stood up and left the room, drawing the door shut behind him. Emriana turned her head and watched the man go, beyond caring any longer. She glanced over to where Lobra still sat, having watched from a sofa. The woman was brooding.

After a moment, Lobra stirred, rising from her seat. 'I guess it's time to put you back into the mirror,' she said, false cheer in her voice.

Bitch, Emriana thought, turning away again.

She heard Lobra cross the room toward her, and Emriana considered punching at her, pummeling her face and stomach and fighting her way out of the house, but she didn't have either the strength or the will.

Denrick had been so strong. Stronger than she ever remembered.

'Are you going to cooperate, or do I need to call him back to help me?' Lobra asked, her voice too sweet.

Mocking.

'Rot in the ninth layer,' Emriana muttered, turning at last and staring balefully at her captor. 'Try and make me go back.'

Lobra clucked her tongue in disapproval and was just turning toward the door, ostensibly to summon Denrick back to assist her, when a shout erupted from down the hall. 'Guards!' a man cried out. 'To the parlor!' Lobra froze, her back tensed with fear, and Emriana saw her chance.

Clambering from the bed, her aching body protesting, the girl stumbled toward Lobra and grabbed her by the shoulder. Lobra jerked at the sensation, but Emriana managed to spin the woman around. Bracing herself, Emriana swung her fist with all her might, popping her foe right in the cheek.

Lobra stumbled back, eyes wide in shock, clutching at her face and grunting in abject pain.

Emriana didn't give her a chance to recover. Summoning some reserve of energy she didn't know she had, the girl leaped on Lobra and knocked her to floor. She pelted the other woman with a flurry of punches, pummeling her just as she had imagined.

It felt so good to hit her.

Lobra writhed and squirmed as she was struck over and over, crying out and trying to protect her face and head. Emriana didn't let up, but finally, Lobra got hold of some bare flesh and clawed at Emriana. The girl yelped in pain and jerked away, and Lobra managed to buck Emriana off her. As Emriana landed in a heap, Lobra began to scream.

'Guards! To me! Help!' She was staggering to her feet as she called out, weaving unsteadily, her face already swollen and bloody.

Emriana lunged up and grabbed at Lobra, jerking her away from the door. 'Shut up, you nasty wench!' In her pent-up fury, Emriana found one last well of strength and slung Lobra across the room. The woman stumbled and staggered, trying to maintain her balance, but she lost the battle and went sprawling-right at the great mirror.

With a horrendous crash that was far more than the sound of glass breaking, the mirror shattered. Emriana could feel a powerful emanation burst forth from the ruined object, a wall of arcane force that had been bound in the reflecting glass however long before. It rushed over and past the girl, leaving her feeling breathless.

Lobra dropped like a stone, settling among the shards and fragments that skittered across the floor, finally coming to rest in a heap in the midst of the wreckage.

Beside the woman, Xaphira flopped to the floor, as naked as Emriana. Her body was covered in purplish bruises.

'Aunt Xaphira!' Emriana yelled in delight, rushing across the space toward her. Barely mindful of the jagged glass strewn everywhere, Emriana reached the woman and clenched her gingerly in a hug, feeling tears begin to well up in her eyes. She hadn't realized how alone she had felt until then.

Xaphira gave a soft, muffled groan at the girl's touch and stirred. 'Em?' she said softly, her voice dazed. 'Is that you?'

Emriana was crying in delight when she answered, 'Yes, it's me.' Then she hugged the woman even tighter, unwilling to let go.

Xaphira groaned in pain and the girl released her, realizing she was hurting her aunt. She scanned the marks all over the older woman's body, horrified.

'What happened?' she mumbled, feeling more tears welling up. 'What did they do to you?'

Xaphira rolled to her knees and tried to sit up. 'I'm all right,' she said, looking around, her dark hair damp and plastered to her face. 'Where are we?'

Emriana scowled over at Lobra's still form. 'House Pharaboldi,' she said. 'That's Lobra there. She had Denrick-Denrick, he-' and Emriana shuddered.

'Denrick's dead,' Xaphira said, looking at Emriana with concern in her eyes. 'It couldn't have been real.'

'It was,' Emriana insisted. I did not just imagine what happened, she silently added. She wasn't sure if she wanted to explain or not. Blinking back a few tears that she hoped Xaphira didn't see, she held up her hand. 'Later,' she said. 'We have to get out of here.' As if to punctuate the girl's words, the muted sounds of someone shouting erupted beyond the door.

'How did we get here? I thought we were in the Generon.' Xaphira's voice sounded weak, dazed.