«So we have to fight now,» said Blade. «And I do mean now. If we could do it tomorrow night «
«I'll ask the steward,» said Meera. She gripped him more tightly than ever. «Blade, I'm frightened. This fighting isn't like what we knew in the Forest. It seems to go on and on, with no end until the whole world is running blood.»
He stroked her hair and ran his fingers down her back. «You're right. But we have no choice. Or rather, we have two choices-let the Protector win or at least try to put an end to him.»
«That's not much of a choice.»
«I know. But that's all we have.»
Blade dreamed of running across an endless plain of short green grass. Behind him ran the Protector, screaming obscenities and waving his great staff. Sunlight blazed from the Blood of Hapanu, so that the Protector seemed to be waving a great red flame. Behind the Protector ran his Guardsmen, transformed into monsters with long green fangs and yellow scales, led by a Cha-Chern with a long forked tail. Overhead was a silvery sky, and a hot wind blew against Blade's skin.
Then the silvery sky started turning dark, the Guardsmen faded away, and Skroga stood where the Protector had been. He reached out a hand to Blade and spoke softly.
«Wake up, Blade. It's time.»
Blade took a deep breath to drive away the last shreds of his dream, then sat up on his cot. A few more deep breaths and he was awake and ready for action. He stood up and felt the familiar sensations of his mind and body preparing for battle. All his senses seemed abnormally acute, so that the dripping of water sounded like drumbeats and the breathing of the men on the cots nearby sounded like a laboring steam engine. His mind was working with unnatural speed and clarity, and familiar thoughts raced through it.
This is the moment when turning back becomes impossible. The fight has started, and we have to go forward, to win or die. It was usually a relief to Blade when things reached this point. He hated waiting more than anything else.
Skroga led him past one roomful of sleeping men after another, until they reached the entrance to the tunnel out to the drawbridge. Four other men were waiting there. Blade knew all four of them, and he'd led two of them in team fights. They were all young, tough, and wiry. All four wore rough garments of blankets and sheets, patched together into something like a citizen's clothing. In the darkness of the back streets, they'd probably pass. All four had swords and daggers belted on over their garments and wore broad grins.
«Let's go,» Blade said. Skroga gripped him by the shoulders and stepped back. The older man simply wasn't agile enough to climb ropes in the darkness. He'd be doing his share tonight, though, leading the men up the tunnel once Blade's party had the door opened.
All five men had rags tied around their feet, so they padded down the tunnel as softly as mice. At the end of the tunnel Blade peered around the side of the drawbridge. The night was clear, but the dampness in the breeze hinted there might be rain on the way. It would help them if it came, but they couldn't wait for it. Blade leaned out as far as he could and whistled softly three times.
From above the signal was repeated. Then there was a faint hiss, and a stout rope was dangling in front of Blade. It was knotted at two-foot intervals, and on the end dangled Meera's silver arm ring. Blade stepped back and nodded to the others.
«The rope's down. Remember-only one man at a time. If you feel yourself slipping, freeze until you've got a grip again.»
Blade stepped back to the opening, made sure his sword and dagger were secure, gripped the rope, and pulled himself out into space. For a moment he felt the rope slipping, lowering him toward the dark water and whatever might wait there. Then the rope jerked and held steady. Blade started to climb.
The rope was as rough as sandpaper, but the roughness helped him grip it. He went up as fast as he could, not looking down or out. There could be nothing on the Island of Death except Horned Ones, but sometimes boats swung close by the amphitheater at night.
Then he was climbing past the last knot, reaching up for the wooden railing, and meeting several pairs of hands reaching down for him. He was hauled over the edge, scraping his nose on the filthy stone of the pavement, then pulled to his feet. The first face he saw was Meera's.
«What are you doing here?» he hissed.
«The mistress closed the Twelve Serpents tonight,» said the steward's voice behind him. «She will tell anyone who asks that two of the girls are sick. Hapanu alone knows what it may be! She will hide us, if we cannot do our work tonight.»
If they didn't take the guardhouse and release the fighters, no hiding place would save them from the Protector, but Blade didn't see any point in mentioning this.
Blade leaned over the edge and whistled the signal to the men below. A moment later the rope started quivering as the first man started climbing. Blade had picked them for agility, and in five minutes they were all standing beside him. The steward and one other man came with Blade and the four fighters as guides, while the other four men and Meera got ready to return to the Twelve Serpents. Blade drew Meera aside.
«Pack food and clothes for a journey upriver. I'm sending you back to Swebon.»
«Blade, don't you-?»
«I'm not doing it just to save your life, you silly woman. Think! Somebody has to get back to Swebon, tell him about what's happened, give him the secret of the strong bow. Who else does he know well enough to trust?»
«Ah. I understand.»
«Yes. You and the men I'm sending with you have to leave tonight. Even if we take the city, the Protector may still have it surrounded by dawn.»
Meera kissed him and went off with the others from the Twelve Serpents. Blade waited until they were out of sight, then led his own men off toward the guardhouse. They tried to move as silently as ghosts, eyes and ears probing the darkness and hands never far from sword hilts. They kept to the darkest alleys and the narrowest side streets, and more than once Blade had to stop and reorient himself to keep from getting lost.
They weren't seen, let alone challenged, but the journey took so long Blade was half-expecting dawn to break in the east by the time they were in sight of the guardhouse. Blade crept up to the nearest of the bronze-barred windows and peered in. There were five men inside, including a Guard officer with his back to the window. As Blade tried to see what weapons the men had ready, he heard footsteps behind him and rose from his crouch.
A fat soldier was hurrying across the cobblestones, sweating, red-faced, and breathless. The Guard officer stepped toward the door to meet the man. Blade saw he was Cha-Chern. Then the fat soldier saw Blade lurking in the shadow of the guardhouse. He let out a scream that raised echoes, whirled, and ran.
Blade's men leaped out of their hiding places as the soldier dashed away, but he was out of sight before they could move to cut him off. Blade covered ten feet in a single leap and met Cha-Chern at the door. The officer recognized Blade and his face went pale, but his sword was out and flickering toward Blade like a poisonous snake. Blade parried Cha-Chern's first thrust with his dagger, then chopped down with his own sword. It was a brutal blow, like a butcher chopping meat, but there was no time or room for anything else. It caught Cha-Chern in the side of the neck and sent blood spraying. The Guardsman had the strength to thrust once more, his point nicking Blade's ribs. Then he reeled forward, giving Blade a chance to swing from the side. Cha-Chern's head lolled on his neck, he went down, and Blade leaped over the fallen man into the guardhouse. His men came boiling in after him.
It wasn't a fight in the guardhouse, it was a massacre. The exchange of blows lasted more than thirty seconds only because Blade's men didn't have enough room to work faster. When the last scream died away, all four guards were dead and so was one of Blade's men. Blade picked up a bloody ring of keys from the table by one window and handed it to a man.