caustic fog billowed through the treetops and began to settle groundward, filling the wood with a tremendous sound of sizzling and popping. Out of the dark cloud fluttered a deluge of leaves and sticks, disintegrating as they fell.
Then came a cascade of heavy branches that crashed down upon the heads of the Shou and turned the forest floor into an impassible tangle of smoking, acid-drenched wood.
Hsieh's men cried out in fear and confusion, and their attack faltered. A low, bitter growl rumbled from Cypress's throat. He beat the air with his tattered wings, then rose above the carnage and, dripping runnels of acid from his dull scales, flew after the Maces.
Some of the Shou dove beneath the jumbled tree limbs to seek shelter, while others clambered across the tangled branches in a desperate effort to escape the black shroud descending upon their heads. Hsieh glanced toward the hilltop to be certain that Cypress was gone, then released Ruha's arm so she could help his men.
It was too late. The burning fumes had already reached the ground, and a hundred Shou warriors were raising their voices in a single wail of agony. Mercifully, the very darkness of the fog spared Ruha the sight of the dragon's acid eating the flesh from their bones.
Fifteen
As Ruha and her companions gal- loped into the shadow of Temple Hill-a barren, stone-flanked tor towering high above the city's close-packed heart-they met a wall of jabbering, frightened townsmen. It was the first sign of dragon-spawned fear they had encountered. Until now, the people of Elversult had leapt into nearby doorways and hurled insults at the battered foreigners charging up Snake
Road. This mob barely seemed to hear the clattering hooves.
Ruha reined her mount to a walk, slowing the whole column. Counting Hsieh, there were thirteen riders behind her. It seemed likely that more Shou had survived the battle with Cypress, but neither the witch nor the mandarin had thought it wise to spend time regrouping.
They had simply turned their horses toward the heart of the city and urged them into a gallop, trusting that any warriors who could would follow.
The mob began to swirl around the column of riders.
Ruha saw no blood or horrible acid burns, and the crowd appeared more determined than panicked. The witch stopped her horse and caught a swarthy man by the shoulder of his embroidered merchant's robes. He cried out and whirled around, glaring at the witch as though she had tried to rob him.
'Sir, please tell me what is happening.'
'Haven't you heard? They say a dragon's coming!'
'Where?' Ruha asked. 'Is he ahead?'
The merchant shrugged. 'Don't know. No one's seen him, and the Maces don't mean us to.. They've ordered everyone out of town.'
'How much farther is…'
The man turned away and vanished into the crowd before Ruha could finish the question. She urged her horse forward. The mob reluctantly parted ahead of her, alternately shouting warnings and curses. The witch ignored both and cast thoughtful glances down the empty alleyways that occasionally separated one wattle-and- daub tenement from the adjacent one. She was tempted to search for a faster route to the Jailgates, but she had seen the back streets of enough Heartlands cities to know most were confusing labyrinths of filth and dead ends.
Hsieh edged his horse alongside Ruha's, drawing sev- eral vehement curses from the river of people coming in the opposite direction. The mandarin leaned over and grabbed the rope holding the witch's skin ofylang oil, then deftly looped it an extra time around her saddle horn.
'Someone follows us.' He did not point or turn his head, but his eyes flickered toward his far shoulder. 'I think they are not Vaerana's men.'
Ruha turned as though speaking to the minister and glanced down the avenue. It did not take long to discover their stalkers. There were at least five of them, pressed close to the buildings and scurrying along against the crowd. They wore plain cloaks that did a poor job of con- cealing the breastplates beneath, and they carried swords and axes on their belts. Though they were not wearing the black caps Ruha had seen in Pros, she felt sure they were cult members; their faces all had the dark, gluttonous look of pillagers and murderers.
'Have you seen more on the other side of the street?'
'Many more.'
Ruha looked forward again. 'Cypress has called out his militia.'
'Then he discovers trick. Soon he comes for us.'
Ruha filled her lungs, and then spoke the incantation of the same wind spell she had used to attract the Ginger
Lady's attention on the Dragonmere.
'Stand aside!' Ruha's horse reared at the thunder of her voice. She maintained a secure grip on the reins and spoke again, 'Clear the road!'
The command blasted a dozen nearby people off their feet. Many more covered their ears and cast terrified glances skyward, confident that such a thunderous sound could only have come from the heavens. The largest part of the mob froze in their tracks and stared at each other with dumbstruck expressions.
'Stand aside, I say!'
A few people drifted toward the sides of the street, but most of crowd remained too stunned to move. Ruha glanced back and saw that the cult members were draw- ing their weapons.
'Make threat.' Hsieh, who was holding his hands over his own ears, shouted the suggestion. 'Fear moves what kind words cannot.'
'Move, or I shall move you!' Ruha commanded. 'You have to the count of three. One…'
By the time she reached two, even the people who had been knocked to the ground were scrambling out of the way. A brief clash of steel sounded behind her as the cult stalkers rushed to attack. The witch dug her heels into her mount's flanks. The trembling beast sprang forward, leaping four people who had not been quick enough to gather themselves up.
Ruha continued to yell. The mob split before her, creat- ing a narrow canyon down the center of Snake Road.
Trusting her mount to pick its own path, she glanced back and was relieved to see the tail of her horse slap- ping the nose of Hsieh's. The rest of the Shou were close behind, several holding blood-stained swords in their free hands. The witch turned her attention forward again, doing her best to search the crowd ahead for any sign of an attack.
Ruha rounded a gentle bend and saw more people pouring onto Snake Road from a large side street ahead.
In the intersection stood a small party of stern-faced Maces, blocking the narrow pathway created by the witch's booming threats. Their weapons were drawn, and behind them stood a blue-robed man with the impatient scowl of a sorcerer who had better things to do than deal with dragon panics and columns of careless horsemen.
Beyond the roadblock, the avenue continued only two hundred paces before it passed out of Temple Hill's shadow and opened into a vast, sunlit market plaza.
Ruha slowed her mount, bringing the column to a stop before the glowering Maces. A grim-faced man with a ruddy complexion stepped forward and pointed his mace at the witch.
'See here, Stranger. Even in the best of times, we don't like-'
'Vaerana Hawklyn would be most appreciative if you will lead us to the Jailgates.' Although Ruha whispered the words, the leader and his fellow Maces cringed at the strength of her voice. She urged her horse forward, lean- ing down to offer the man a hand up. 'The Cult of the Dragon is close behind, and it won't be long before the dragon himself comes for us.'
The leader arched an eyebrow and lowered his weapon, but made no move to climb up behind Ruha. 'What's going on?'
