deity.
The blind god shifted course, toward his nearest tormentors.
Could that hideous head be far from the sword?
Ah. There.
Else's bowels turned to ice. They came near voiding.
The thing's eyes were open. It lay on its left side, in muddy, trampled grass, eyes alive. Eyes aware. And as mad as could be imagined. What was it? It had no hands, no voice, no means to impose its will. Save the mesmerizing power of those eyes.
Else's wrist blazed with pain. The amulet shielded him again. For that er-Rashal el-Dhulquarnen deserved gratitude.
Else clambered to his feet. He stripped a ragged cloak off an unmoving dead hero and used it to bundle the head.
The pain faded immediately.
Troops from the Patriarchal camp began to arrive. Grade Drocker sensed an opportunity to strike a hammer blow on the cheap. Else sent a party in through the storm drain and another to climb his still-dangling escape rope. Whoever got the chance should open a postern or gate. He directed others to help the Deves finish and collect the dead heroes. Ghort he finally did send to help the Imperials. The men from the Grail Empire faced a deteriorating situation.
Exhausted, Else eventually settled down in the bottom of a brushy gully with Uncle Divino. It looked like it had snowed antique weapons. There were scores scattered in me mud or hanging in the bushes.
'Good place to hide, eh?' The bronze sword had drained him. He set blade and wrapped head aside. 'I'm ready for a nap.'
Bruglioni grunted. 'Best I could do. How's it going up there?”
'I think we're all right. You all alone? Where are your guys?”
'Those assholes ran off as soon as it got exciting. Then I managed to get crippled without doing anything but lay here.'
Else grunted.
'All that hardware came raining down. This damned dagger got me through the knee. There's a killing spell on it but it wasn't meant for me. It was intended to kill somebody named Erief Erealsson. Presumably one of our undead visitors.'
'I don't know the name. Probably somebody who was important once upon a time. History is fickle.'
'Do you have any idea what's happening here, Hecht?'
'I think so. This might be the beginning of the end of the Tyranny of the Night. The weapons the Deves used could make it possible to punish the gods themselves.'
Uncle Divino scowled. 'You're a doctrinal mess, Hecht. But that's near the mark. The Brotherhood of War and the Special Office will be excited. They'll want to get those weapons into the service of God as soon as they understand them.'
'Even if the weapons are tools of the Adversary?'
'What?' The Principatй's eyes widened. Had recent events been orchestrated? Was he a witness to the first bell of the Carillon of Doom? 'Damn! You might be right. This needs the attention of a quorum in the whole of the Collegium. Damn again! I can't get up. I can't move my leg.'
A deep sense of sorrow overcame Else. But he had to honor his promises. He sighed. They were alone in the gully, overlooked. This opportunity would not come again. 'Principatй, years ago Freido Bruglioni and his brother did something blackhearted to Draco Arniena. Don Draco found them out. Don Draco told Don Inigo before he died. He made Don Inigo promise to extract a suitable revenge.'
Principate' Bruglioni was confused. 'That… That… I'd nearly forgotten … Draco knew?'
'Always.'
'Then Inigo sent you?'
'He did, Principatй. I'm sorry. You've lived an exemplary life since.'
'Hecht! No!'
'A man is only as good as his word.' Else folded Bruglioni's own cloak and forced it down onto the old man's face.
Bruglioni struggled. Else's amulet tortured his left wrist yet again.
God was generous. No witness stumbled onto the crime. Else completed his task, then returned the antique dagger to the wound in Bruglioni's knee. He eliminated signs of his visit. Still unnoticed by men whose attention was focused elsewhere, he moved down the gully, away from Principatй Bruglioni.
He had debated breaking his word. He had grown fond of Divino Bruglioni. But there was little doubt that the loss of the Principatй would create huge problems for Sublime and the Collegium.
Ten minutes passed before Else spoke to anyone. He wandered the battlefield with the monster head under one arm and the bronze sword in the other, wondering what Divino and Freido had done to earn the abiding hatred of the Arniena.
He noted one of Ghort's men edging nearer. 'Quintille? What is it?'
'Message from Captain Ghort, sir. Your ears only.'
The man was shaking in his boots. Why? 'Go ahead.'
'The Emperor is dead. Slain in the fighting in the city. Lothar is emperor, now. Johannes's daughters have taken charge. Captain Ghort says we should expect confusion in the Imperial camp.'
'No doubt. How's he doing?'
'That's the other message. He needs help. Some thunder-casters if you can send them. These things don't get tired and they don't give up until you cut them into pieces.'
'They're on the way, soon as I round some up.'
Quintille fled, obviously relieved to get away.
Else went looking for Gledius Stewpo. The dwarf was elusive. Nevertheless, Else dug him out.
'I don't recollect putting you in charge, dwarf. Nor anything in Captain Ghort's plan including what happened this morning. But it worked out. So far. Do you have firepowder and shot left? Ghort has a problem over yonder.'
Stewpo and his henchmen did not protest though it was plain they wanted to. A couple of firepowder tubes swung Else's way.
'That wouldn't be smart. I'm the best friend you've got on this side of the Mother Sea.'
'It's that sword, Colonel. You need to get rid of it. It's already begun to dress you in the same aura as the last man who carried it.'
Else glanced at the running blind god, now smaller than he had been, said, 'I see.' He suspected the head more than the blade, though. 'You have anybody trustworthy enough, and strong enough, to watch over the sword without trying to use it?'
'Is there one of us righteous enough to reject the tools of alien gods?' Stewpo asked. 'I think so.'
'Good. Find this paragon. We'll destroy the sword in the same fire as the undead. It's bronze. It should melt. So. If you'll round me up a relief force, I'll go extricate my overly optimistic number two.'
As Else, the dwarf, and twenty deves headed for the brawl between Imperials and undead, Else asked, 'How could you afford that much ammunition? They say you people have hoards to beggar a dragon, but you just shot off more silver than I can imagine.'
'You're imagining wrong.' Stewpo handed him a rough metal pellet the size of the end joint of his thumb.
'Iron.'
'Yes. With a few thin patches of silver laid on.'
'Uhm?'
'It doesn't have to be solid silver. The silver at the surface is all that's needed. And iron gives most creatures of the night terrible indigestion. The silver in one small coin is enough for a hundred of these shot.'
