“If we are going to lure Thunder underground, we will need bait,” Linsha said as they hurried back to the hidden entrance to the labyrinth.
Crucible agreed. “A distraction would be good, too. We do not need those blue-skinned warriors chasing us down there.”
“The general called them Tarmaks. Have you ever heard of that? The Dark Knights just called them Brutes.”
None of the little group had heard that name. All they knew was the Brutes’ reputation for ferocity and fearlessness.
It was full daylight by the time they reached the small entrance to the tunnels below the palace. Linsha, with Azurale’s help, fashioned a saddle and a harness that would help her stay on Crucible’s back and hold the heavy lance in place. They fastened it around the bronze, being careful of his bruised leg and his cracked wing bone, and when they were finished he declared it sturdy enough.
“Good, then take it off,” Linsha said. “We’ll carry it for you while you are in cat shape.”
“Not this time,” replied Crucible. “We need bait. Thunder needs a bronze to complete his totem. I can get him underground.”
Linsha looked stunned. “How can you do that? You blocked the tunnel entrance from the treasury yourself. If you go in there, he’ll kill you. And if you make it back here, you can’t get through this door as a dragon.”
Crucible lowered his head until his dark gold eye was level with Linsha’s face. “He forgot who he was dealing with when he left it blocked with stone. I can open that entrance before he has time to draw breath. You must be waiting for me. Not in Iyesta’s tomb. He might expect that. Go to the egg cavern.”
Linsha reached out and touched the scaly nose that was so close to her own. His burnished scales were a darker bronze on his head and along his back, lightening to a bright golden shade along his sides and belly. His limbs were stocky but well muscled, and his tail, while not very long, was broad and had a spiny ridge linked by webbing to help him swim in water. He had a lean, elegant head and horns the color of polished steel. She didn’t think she had ever seen a dragon quite so handsome as this one. She felt his breath hot on her cheeks, and when she looked into the depths of his amber eye she saw an anger burning deep as lava beneath the surface. Like all dragons, Crucible often found hatred an easy emotion to awaken.
“I will meet you there,” she said, knowing it was useless to argue. “What about a diversion?”
“We can help you there, Lady Knight,” Azurale said with a touch of pride. “The owl and I took word to the militia while you were a prisoner. The Legionnaires were very angry with you, but they said they would gather a force and await your word.”
Linsha could just imagine Lanther’s reaction to her departure last night. She shrugged it off and turned to Varia. “You are certainly losing your shyness around others. Who else have you been talking to?”
The owl ruffled her feathers. “Only those you need. I suggest we also warn Leonidas. He is with the slaves near the palace. Perhaps he can distract some of the guards as well.”
Crucible nudged Linsha and said, “You’d better go. I will give you two hours. If Varia will go to Leonidas and the militia, that should give everyone enough time to set up a diversion.”
Linsha found a torch inside the doorway and lit it. Bidding a hasty farewell to Crucible and Varia, she shouldered the shield and tried to lift the lance. Its full weight was more than she imagined. She staggered and would have fallen if Azurale hadn’t caught the heavy handle.
“You have not told me what to do,” he said, balancing the lance, “so I will go with you. You’re too worn from your ordeal to carry this far.”
She nodded her gratitude to the young stallion. “I didn’t want to ask. I know how much centaurs loathe close, dark places.”
They went their separate ways without further speech, each knowing what they had to do and each worried for the others. Linsha and the centaur carried the Abyssal Lance between them down into the tunnels of the great labyrinth, while Varia went in search of Leonidas and Lanther. Crucible found a dense grove of young pine and settled down to wait for everyone to reach their places.
This could work, Linsha told herself. It was simply a matter of timing. And if it didn’t… well then, they wouldn’t likely be alive to wallow in the failure. Time to do or die…
24
It Begins…
Varia flew hard to pass over the militia’s forces toward Iyesta’s palace. Mingled with her sense of urgency and her fear for Linsha and Crucible was a feeling of relief and approval at the remarkable speed and fortitude with which the Legion and its companion forces had answered Linsha’s call. Once Varia and Azurale had convinced Lanther to listen and he recovered from his fury at Linsha’s secret departure, he and Falaius had rounded up every available man and woman, put weapons in their hands, and prepared to set out. Considering how tired and ill-equipped everyone was, Varia was pleased they would respond so well.
Even the Solamnics. The owl chuckled at that memory. When Sir Remmik informed Falaius that the Knights were not going to the rescue of an exiled renegade, she’d thought the plainsman was going to strike the Knight where he stood. Instead he informed the Solamnic commander in no uncertain terms that the Knights were no longer in their snug little castle and if they wished to remain in the Scorpion Wadi, they would do as he told them. Varia chuckled again. Linsha would appreciate that little tale.
A short while ago, she had brought Linsha’s word to Falaius, and now the remnants of the Solamnics, the Legion, the militia, the city watch, and the dragonguards marched the long eight miles from the Wadi toward the ruins of the Artisan’s District to attack Thunder’s forces from the north. If all went as planned, they would draw off enough Brutes and mercenaries to allow Linsha and Thunder to do their task.
While the militia made its move, Varia intended to find Leonidas and Phoulos.
By the position of the sun, two hours came and went without any sign of the militia. The day was growing murderously hot, and there was no wind to stir the heat. Dust and traces of smoke hung above the Missing City like a yellow veil. Crucible grew impatient. As the third hour wound toward its finish, he decided he would risk the attempt with or without Falaius’ forces. He rose from his bed of pine needles and was about to step out of the grove when his sharp ears heard war horns on the wind. They were somewhere to the north of the palace, he estimated, near the slave pens. Good. If Leonidas did his work, the penned slaves were close enough to the fighting to give some added trouble to Thunder’s guards. He heard the horns sound again, and his heart beat strongly. Those were not militia horns. They were the horns of the Brutes. There was nothing for it now. He had to go.
The bronze stretched his legs and folded his wings to his sides. His eyes narrowed, and his horns lay flat on his head. Focus on the rage within, his heart told him. Draw on the anger, the hatred, the frustration he had trapped within for months. Here was an outlet worthy of his fury: Thunder had killed Iyesta, his friend. Thunder had endangered Linsha. He held Iyesta’s eggs captive. The big blue was a menace to everything Iyesta had worked so hard to build.
Crucible felt hate stir the power within him. Like other dragons, he had had trouble creating magic spells the past few years. Only his innate powers like shapeshifting and his breath weapon had remained with him without difficulty. But now he did not have the luxury of experimenting with unpredictable magic. He needed the power and he wanted it quickly, so he fed his hate and anger and resentment into it until the magic seethed like a volcano ready to erupt.
Crucible charged from the trees. He galloped across the magnificent garden ruins to the road, wheeled on the old stone pavings and shot like a bronze arrow for the gateway into the palace courtyard.