«Start getting the doors open.»
«How much time do we have?»
«I don't know. That messenger who ran off will be bringing more soldiers, I'm sure of that. Assume you won't have any time at all.»
The man nodded and started trying keys in the lock on the first door. Blade and the two remaining survivors of his party started blocking off the two windows of the guardhouse. The building was built of stone with a slate roof, so there was no way it could be burned. Three men could easily hold the door against a strong force of attackers. The only thing Blade feared was crossbowmen firing through the windows.
They had one window blocked with the table and were lifting a bench into the other when Blade heard the tramp of feet and shouted orders. As they wedged the bench into place, three crossbow bolts slammed into it, nearly knocking it loose again. A moment later fists, swords, and spears started thumping and clanging on the locked and barred door. The solid planks hardly quivered. Against anything but a battering ram, the door could hold for quite a while.
Somebody out there must have had the same idea. Blade heard a voice giving orders to break into nearby houses and look for logs or heavy pieces of furniture. Several sets of feet hurried off, and several more arrived. Blade and his two comrades cleaned up the guardroom by dropping all the bodies down the freight shaft.
As the last body vanished, they heard a rumbling of wheels on the pavement outside. A moment later something started crackling below one window, and Blade smelled sharp, pungent smoke. He stiffened. Those wheels sounded like the soldiers had brought up a cart or wagon, either to batter down the door or block it from the outside. As for the fire-the guardhouse might not burn, but it could be filled with smoke until no one could breathe inside it. Blade realized that he hadn't thought of everything the enemy might do against the guardhouse.
The crackling grew louder, and Blade began to see an orange glow through the cracks in the bench. Gray smoke began curling in through the window and flowing down toward the floor. Blade felt his eyes beginning to water, and one of the other men started coughing violently. The soldiers must be putting something on the fire to make the smoke poisonous.
Blade pushed open the tunnel door and shouted, «How far are you?» There was no answer, and as Blade caught his breath he felt as if he'd inhaled a lungful of paper. By the time he stopped coughing he realized that there was only one thing to do-open the door to let the smoke out, and rely on hand-to-hand fighting to keep the soldiers out until the fighters came up from below. That would be running a close and deadly race with time, but all the alternatives were even worse. Blade had a moment's ghastly vision of the Protector sealing off the barracks, then flooding it with the poisonous smoke to slaughter the gladiators like an exterminator slaughtering rats in a cellar.
Blade motioned toward the door-he could barely speak — and the other men nodded. They understood. Together all three of them lifted the bar. Then Blade motioned the others to stand aside while he threw the bolt and heaved the door open. Fresh air poured in and the smoke swirled out, so thick that it was a moment before the soldiers outside realized the door was open. By that time Blade and his comrades were ready and waiting.
The first two soldiers to come through the door died before they realized the door was open. Blade nearly beheaded one. The other was stabbed in the thigh, then had his throat cut as he lay on the floor. The next two men who came in were more alert, but didn't last much longer. One slipped on the blood of his dead comrades, and Blade split his head as he crashed to the floor. The other got all the way inside the guardhouse before one of Blade's comrades caught him and pushed him down the shaft.
The echoes of the falling man's screams were dying away before Blade heard two new sounds. One was the rumble of the cart being pulled away from the door. The other was a swelling pound of feet and clatter of weapons from deep inside the tunnel. The soldiers ready to enter the guardhouse also heard the noise from the tunnel and backed away from the door. Then the door to the tunnel flew open and the man who'd gone down to unlock the doors burst out. His eyes were wide and he waved a spear so furiously that he nearly skewered Blade. Hard on the man's heels came Skroga and Kuka, and after them all the fighters of the Games of Hapanu, the doomed men of the Island of Death, on their way to freedom and vengeance.
They came up the tunnel like water out of a high-pressure hose, shrieking warcries, curses, and prayers to all their gods, waving every sort of weapon Blade had ever seen in the Games. They came on so fast and so furiously that any soldiers in the guardhouse would have been trampled to death before a weapon touched them. Blade had to fight with knees and elbows and curses to keep from being pushed down the shaft.
Eventually he was caught up in the mob and propelled through the door like the cork out of a champagne bottle, into the open street. By then half the soldiers who'd been attacking the guardhouse were dead or dying, and the other half were sprinting off in all directions, gladiators hard on their heels. As Blade expected, the gladiators weren't taking prisoners.
By the time most of the fighters reached the open, reports were coming back of soldiers and Guardsmen also out in force. It was impossible to tell from these reports exactly what was happening, and for the moment Blade wasn't particularly worried. The Protector would certainly know what was happening by now, but it would still take time to gather his men. It might take even more time to persuade them to advance against the fighters of the Games, armed, desperate, and ready to fight to the death.
There was still no time to lose. Some of the gladiators apparently expected Blade to make a long speech, but he flatly refused to do anything of the kind. Others wanted to go to the waterfront at once, take ships, and sail off at once, never mind where. Blade sent these to Skroga. He himself started choosing men for various special jobs.
Some were to go to the quays, hold them, capture as many ships as they could, and burn the rest. Others were to go to the House of the Twelve Serpents. Meera was to be brought directly to Blade, while the steward and his men would act as guides for the streets of Gerhaa. Still others would start searching all the houses in the areas they'd already cleared of soldiers. Anyone who resisted should be killed, anyone who did nothing should be left alone, anyone who wanted to join should be armed and enlisted.
When Blade finished giving all his orders, he called for parchment and ink, then sat down and wrote out a letter he'd long since worked out in his mind.
Swebon
Meera brings this letter, to tell you that the Free Fighters and their allies now rule in Gerhaa the Stone Village. The power of the Protector, the great enemy of all the Forest People, is dying, but it is not dead. To finish the victory, the Forest people must unite and come to Gerhaa.
Meera also brings the secret of the strong bow, which I have discovered. This bow will drive arrows into the hearts of Treemen and through the armor of the Sons of Hapanu. It is a weapon the Forest People can use to destroy all their enemies, or to destroy each other.
So that they may destroy their enemies, I ask that you take oaths from all the chiefs, to end the warfare among the People. Only those chiefs who swear this oath should be given the secret of the strong bow. This is my wish, and my curse is upon any who do not heed it.
I also ask that you take care of Meera. I have had another vision during my time in Gerhaa. It tells me that when Gerhaa has fallen forever and the Forest People are safe, I must return to England. Meera will need protection, and you are a man she will accept and honor: I have not told her of this vision and I ask you not to, for it would only cause her grief now.