or against me?'
Quelgrum raised his eyes to the slate-blue dome above him, and back to the young mage. “All right,” he said. “I advise you against it, but I won't balk you if you're determined to go ahead. I'll get the others.'
'Thank you, General Quelgrum. That's all I can ask of you.'
Despite his confident tone, Grimm felt far from convinced of his chances of success. His first and only attempt at flight had been a clumsy balancing act, a semi-controlled tumble to the ground, and he had been able to draw on the aid of Redeemer to sustain him. Even assuming he managed to rise smoothly to the centre of the dome, he would still need to break through the structure.
The middle of the ceiling could be opened from the outside, to allow the Sacrifices to be extracted. Perhaps the opening mechanism was accessible from inside the rotunda. Then again, if the roof was reinforced with pure iron, like the walls, his magic might be nullified. His bare hands would never suffice to break through the structure.
As the General moved off to discuss the plan with the other warriors, Grimm continued to stare at the ceiling, considering his options.
'So Dragonbluster, here, thinks he can get out of here and take on the whole of Brianston?” Guy said, snorting. “Let him try it, say I!'
'I never said I could fight all of them, Brother Mage!” Grimm protested. “But I do feel we should do something, while we still can!'
'Something?-such a lovely word!” The Great Flame's voice dripped with contempt. “Perhaps this marvellous something will take us all to paradise in a golden carriage! Perhaps we can all-'
Grimm raised his hands in exasperation.
Can someone shut up this big-mouthed, self-opinionated-?
At that moment, as if in answer to Grimm's prayer, he heard a thunderous thump, high above him. He looked up to see the wooden chair swaying in sympathy with the loud, rhythmic noise.
Breeders began to run from their chambers, staring in wonder at the vibrating dome, some screaming in terror. Now, a fine tracery of cracks could be seen, running through the slate-blue ceiling. Fine dust fell with each dull, pounding sound, and the chair, hanging at a crazy angle, crashed to the ground. Larger shards of material began to crumble away from the cracks, and Grimm saw the dome begin to deform and quiver with each thump.
'Get away from there!” Quelgrum cried, waving frantically at the milling Breeders. “I think it's about to-'
With a crunching, tearing, groan, the very centre of the dome fell in a tangle of wood, rope and tackle, and Grimm could see a pair of grey, black-clawed hands tearing at the rent in the structure, widening it.
It's Shakkar! the mage thought, his heart leaping in his chest. I don't know how he found us, but thank the Names he's here!
Further lumps of metal and stony material tumbled to the floor, sending the Breeders scurrying away to the walls.
The onlookers stood, open-mouthed and silent, as a huge, grey-green figure thumped to the floor of the rotunda in a welter of dust, blue shards and metal. Shakkar fell heavily, landing on top of the remains of the chair, shattering it into splinters with a tumultuous crash.
For a few moments, the demon lay still, atop the pile of debris, and Grimm feared that Shakkar had been hurt. However, the netherworld titan was no vulnerable construct of frail, human flesh and bones, and he soon staggered to his feet, shaking his head and raising a veritable dust-storm of detritus.
As the dust began to clear, Grimm ran over to the dust-clouded Seneschal and crowed, “Shakkar! It is so good to see you!'
Shakkar offered a clumsy bow from within his attendant cloud of grey-blue motes and shards. “I apologise for my-aah… aah… CHOW!-for my lateness, Lord Baron.'
Grimm turned to the open-mouthed older Questor, trying to give the impression that this destructive spectacle had been planned from the start. “It's Seneschal Shakkar, Questor Guy. Aren't you pleased to see him?'
The Great Flame's mouth worked to no effect, and Grimm smiled.
'Don't stand like that, Brother Mage,” he chided. “Somebody might mistake you for a fish and reel you in on the end of a line.'
Crest, Harvel, Quelgrum, Numal and Tordun, overcoming their astonishment, rushed to greet the towering apparition.
'Shakkar! You couldn't have come at a more…'
'…I was just saying…'
'…needed a miracle…'
'…answer to our prayers!'
'…so glad to see you!'
Only Guy Great Flame remained aloof from the joyous, impromptu reunion, seeming to have regained his customary sardonic composure.
'A hole in the roof-how splendid!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure we all needed a little extra ventilation. How does that get us out of this place?'
'I can fly you all out of here, Questor,” Shakkar declared.
Guy flipped a contemptuous thumb at the holes in the wall. “What? One or two at a time? While you're doing that, the Revenants can fill this place with noxious vapours, demon. That'll really put a crimp on the operation, won't it? Great idea.'
Grimm regarded the myriad, small openings, and he realised the older Questor might have a valid point. Would it be possible to block all the holes? Surely not; many, if not most, of them were far out of the reach of human arms, and Grimm could not trust his primitive spell of flight to keep him stable long enough to block even one.
'My colleague, Sergeant Erik, waits atop the building,” the demon said. “He carries Technological weapons, and he should be able to deter any interlopers, at least for a short while.'
Guy hawked and spat. “Bloody Technology; I hate it! I'm surprised even at you, wonder-boy,” he said, turning to Grimm, his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust.
The young Questor shrugged. “It may be our best hope, right now,” he said. “Only one of us needs to escape, and to wake Gruon. If only-'
He felt a rough hand on his shoulder and wheeled around. Facing him was a bulky, angry-looking male Breeder. The man's body might be soft and obese, but Grimm guessed there was muscle underneath the flab.
'What's going on here, mage? What is this abomination you have brought into our midst? And what's this blasphemous talk of waking Uncle?'
'Shakkar has come here to save us,” Grimm said. “All of us, including you.'
'Save us?” the Breeder spat. “We have everything we need here, a simple, happy life in the service of Uncle. What do you offer but purposeless conflict?
'We refuse to aid you in this… this sacrilege!'
'What about me, Grimm?” the female Breeder, Arland, cried. “It's to be my last birthday celebration tomorrow! If you wake Uncle, you'll be murdering our providers, the Revenants and Dreamsters! You must be some kind of a monster!'
Other Breeders began to murmur and close in on Grimm's group. The situation seemed ugly.
The mage spat a single word at his rotund assailant: “G-shaat!'
It was not a potent spell, but it sufficed to send the male Breeder rolling away from him. The dull susurration from the milling crowd grew louder, and the young Questor began to worry.
I hadn't counted on this, he thought. They seem to want to remain slaves to those Names-forsaken dream- people!
In the distance, he heard a series of dull crumps, and an urgent voice sounded from the hole in the dome: “They're coming with some kind of siege engine, Lord Seneschal! I've tossed a few stun-grenades their way, but I
