Carrion said, “Not all the guards will run.”
“They’re safe if they stay inside.”
“We’ll use the dragon to scare those outside away. My red’s screams will make more of them hide, but I want to get inside, and that’s going to be dangerous. String your bow. Be prepared to fight.”
Tanner slipped the bow from his shoulder and braced it on the ground. He hooked the bowstring and tested it before reaching for an arrow. The sound of wings beating the air drew his attention. He felt his back stinging with the approach, but it was gentle, almost friendly, not the intense pain the green dragon had caused. The red appeared just over the tops of the trees, almost silent, heading directly for the single guard on the roof.
The warning blare of a horn sounded. A call to arms by the guards. The dragon flew right over Tanner and let out a scream that chilled his blood. It rose higher and then attacked the tower where the guard had been. It ripped the roof off, then struck the tower again, driving its chest at the stone base as it landed. Cracks appeared in the masonry. The dragon rammed it again, and part of the wall crumbled and fell.
Carrion raced forward and kicked open the kitchen door. Without pause, he let loose an arrow and drew another. Tanner peered over his shoulder, but found only a cook, an arrow in his chest, a meat cleaver in his outstretched hand. Two doors stood on the other side of the kitchen.
The first opened to a dining room containing a massive table long enough to seat fifty. One end held a clay pot and maybe ten bowls neatly stacked beside it.
Three guards on duty outside and a cook. That left six men unaccounted for if there was one bowl for each. Carrion spun and opened the other door. It led to a hallway. He ran, checking rooms to either side as he sprinted past. At the end of the corridor stood a large double door. He pulled the one to the left open.
A guard charged at him, sword held high. Tanner let his arrow fly first. The guard fell face first, his arm clenching his weapon. In his hand was one of the short, broad swords Carrion had described. Carrion ran forward, ready to loose another arrow, but no other targets showed themselves.
They were in a room that had been a gathering place, or even a chapel at one time in the past. The ceiling was taller than most trees. Ornate images were worked into the plaster. Gaps in the roof poured sunlight into the room. Puddles of water stood in low places on the stone floors. The room was filled with crates of all sizes.
From another doorway, two guards entered at a run, one shouting at them while the other drew back the string on his bow. Tanner and Carrion leaped for the protection of the nearest crates.
“Where are they?” Tanner mouthed when they didn’t appear where expected.
The scuff of a boot answered. At least one of the guards was also in the maze of crates, and probably both of them. They were hunting the intruders. Tanner realized it was two against two, with the possibility of more joining the other side at any time. A retreat was impossible. Trying to leave the room would give all the advantage to the others.
There was no high ground. No second story or staircase, which was a blessing and a curse depending on which side controlled it. Carrion whispered, “They know where we are. Follow me.”
He moved quickly down a narrow passage between packing crates, then turned right at an intersection. Carrion paused long enough to grab a container and twist it as he pulled. It slid to him, and he put a shoulder into it, despite the noise of the wood scratching loudly on the floor. Tanner stood in the center of the aisle watching both ways for the guards, his bow ready to fire. When the crate blocked the passage, Carrion motioned for them both to enter the small alcove where the crate had been. From there, each watched one direction.
Carrion tapped his shoulder for attention. Tanner turned. Two guards were creeping slowly in their direction. The nearby crates stood taller than either of them; the single crate in the aisle left enough room on either side for a man to slip by.
“On three,” Carrion mouthed, drawing his arrow tighter. He counted. On three, both sidestepped into the passage and let their arrow fly. Both arrows struck with solid sounding strikes. Unfortunately, both flew into the chest of the same man. The other guard released his arrow. It drove into the crate right in front of them. He was pulling his second arrow when Tanner’s second hit him high, almost in the neck.
The guard dropped his bow and reached for the arrow just as Carrion’s second buried itself in his stomach. His knees collapsed, and he fell forward. Carrion put his bow on top of the nearest crate and levered himself up. He used the height to survey the room.
He pointed while pulling another arrow. “Tanner, close that door.”
Tanner ran. A door taller than two men stood open to the outside. He shoved it closed. There were brackets and an iron bar. He set the bar in place and spun.
Another door, smaller and opening to a hallway. He ran to it. There was no way to lock it, but he closed it and ran to the nearest guard they had shot. Tanner grabbed the unfamiliar sword that lay near the dead man’s hand and carried it back to the door. He slid the blade under the door and kicked with his toe until it was solidly in place. He made sure it was secure by pulling on the door.
It wouldn’t hold long, but the noise of anyone trying to get through would warn them. That left the door they use to come through. Carrion was already there. He closed it. Then he slid the nearest crate in front. Anyone entering would have to take the time to shove it aside. That noise would also alert them.
Carrion ordered, “Start breaking open crates. I have to check in with the red.” He sat on the floor, his eyes unfocused.
Tanner ran to the other guard and removed his sword from the scabbard. He used the thick blade to pry the boards off the side of a crate. It contained knives. Hundreds of them. The next crate held breastplates. The colors were not King Ember’s. In others, he found swords, helmets, and cases of bows. All military gear. Enough for an invasion, or to support a war.
Nearly all the crates had green dragons stenciled on them. There were many names of companies and individuals, but all the crates had ended up here.
Then he found another with the evidence he wanted. Flags and pennants. Not Ember’s colors of royal gold and blue, but green and yellow. The yellow crown printed on the field of bright green didn’t hold three points, for the three kingdoms of Princeton. It held five.
He removed several and stuffed them into his shirt. Then he opened more crates. He found tents, blankets, and more weapons. Much more. But the flags and pennants interested him most.
“Time we get out of here,” Carrion called.
The sound of banging on the double doors emphasized his shout to Carrion. They ran into the kitchen. Shoving the crate blocking the door aside, they ran through and out into the rear courtyard without pause. In a hundred steps they were safely in the shadows of the forest, but still running. They heard no pursuit.
Finally, Carrion slowed, bent over and gasped for air. When he could talk again, he asked, “What’d you find?”
“Breastplates, swords, helmets, tents, and so on. But I also found these,” he pulled a few of the pennants and handed them to Carrion.
After a quick look, he said, “Ember’s not going to like this at all.”
“What now?” Tanner asked.
“We need to find a safe place. Let’s keep going south, I’ll see what’s ahead.” Carrion again wore the vacant expression he used with he communicated with the dragon. In no time, the dragon flew over them and beyond.