They gathered their things and returned to the tomb, where Arista placed the horn in her pack. They replaced the lids on Novron’s coffin and Gaunt, Mauvin, and Magnus picked up a few small treasures, which they called souvenirs. Royce, much to Hadrian’s surprise, did not touch a thing, not even a handful of gold coins. He merely waited for the rest of them. They all bid one last farewell to Alric before heading back to the tunnel.
Hadrian was the last out of the tomb, and as he was leaving, he caught sight of something small lying on the floor just before Arista’s light faded. Picking it up, he stuffed it into his pack before trotting out to join the others.
The dust had settled by the time Royce led them through the tunnel. It was no longer a corridor, but a gaping passage like something a monstrous rabbit might burrow. It was round and at least fifty feet in width. The walls were compact rock and stone held together by weight and pressure. The passage ran level for several feet, then angled upward. There was no sign of the Gilarabrywn, but ahead they heard the familiar beat of drums.
“Ghazel-how nice,” Hadrian said miserably. “They waited.”
The tunnel ended at the great wide hallway with suits of armor and sculptured walls that they had passed through on the way in. While large enough for the Gilarabrywn to walk through, there was no sign of it.
“Where’s your pet, Royce?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I need to get him a leash.”
“What did you tell him to do?” Mauvin asked.
“Well, that’s the thing… I don’t know exactly. I hope I told it to clear the way of all debris and danger up to the square outside the palace, but who knows what I really said? I might have told it to clear the world of all decency and rangers up to the lair outside the ballast.”
Magnus and Mauvin both chuckled; even Hadrian smiled. Then Myron spoke up. “He’s not joking. That’s actually what he said the first time he repeated the phrase back to me. And of course we’re assuming I got it right to begin with.”
The sounds of yelps and cries cut through the empty hallway. Hadrian and Mauvin drew their swords. They waited a moment but there was only silence.
Royce shrugged and led them onward, always several dozen feet in front. His head turned from side to side. Royce always reminded Hadrian of a squirrel when he had his ears up. He had the same twitchy behavior.
They passed by the doorway to the throne room, the ornate entrance still closed. Royce halted, raising a hand and tilting his head. The rest of them heard it too. A horn, drums, shouts, cries, it all came from ahead of them-faint and muffled.
“Blood,” Royce mentioned, pointing up ahead.
As Arista approached, they could see a disturbing splatter that sprayed across the far wall, creating a ghastly painting that still dripped. A dozen arrows lay widely scattered like fallen branches after a storm.
They proceeded until they reached the end of the corridor, where another Gilarabrywn-sized tunnel ran upward. Through it, they felt fresh salt air and began climbing. They reached the end and Royce poked his head out first before waving for the rest to follow. They stood in the square between the Cenzarium and what Arista had left of the Teshlor guildhall. In the center, where the fountain used to be, the Gilarabrywn lay on a shallow lake of blood, its tail shifting lazily from side to side, hitting the ground with moist slaps. Bodies of Ghazel littered the square, forming mounds like shadowy snowdrifts running out beyond the range of Arista’s light. Swords, bows, headdresses, arms, clawed hands, and heads speckled the stone in a macabre collage of death.
“There must be hundreds of bodies,” Mauvin whispered.
“And those are the ones it didn’t eat,” Magnus added.
“Is it safe?” Hadrian asked Royce, looking at the Gilarabrywn.
“Should be.”
“Should be?”
Royce gave him a sinister grin.
“If it wasn’t, we’d already be dead,” Arista pointed out.
“What she said,” Royce told him.
They stepped out onto the square, their shoes making wet noises as they walked across the bloody puddle. They made a slow circle around the beast, which remained quiet and still except for the ever-slapping tail.
“I think it got all of them,” Hadrian announced. “Ghazel always take their dead if they can.”
“I wish I had a sugar cube or something to give him,” Royce said, looking at the Gilarabrywn with a sympathetic expression. “He’s been such a good boy.”
They reached the sea quicker than Hadrian would have expected. They followed a more direct route, not needing to dodge the Ghazel, and of course, return trips always seemed shorter. No one stopped to stare at the city. No one had any desire to explore. Their feet were no longer weighted by the dread of the unknown. A sense of urgency filled the party and drove them forward without pause.
Despite a lengthy series of language lessons with Myron, Royce was unable to persuade Gilly to leave the city. It refused to pass the lions and Royce had no choice but to abandon his newfound pet. He sent it back to resume its old duties in the Vault of Days but did not mention why.
“Look at that!” Hadrian exclaimed when they came in sight of the Harbinger once again. The ship was where they had left it in the sheltered cove, but not how they had left it. A new mast was set and a beautiful sail furled across a new yard. New boards and caulking were visible along the hull near the glowing green waterline, and parts of the cabin were touched up with new boards as well. “Wyatt and Elden have been busy.”
“Amazing!” Magnus said, clearly impressed. “And just the two of them.”
“With Elden it is more like three and a half,” Hadrian corrected.
“And look,” the dwarf said, trotting forward to where a series of planks were supported by floating barrels and linked by rope. “They built a gangway. Excellent craftsmanship, especially for the time given.”
Magnus was the first on board, followed by Mauvin, with Hadrian and Arista coming up behind. Royce lingered on the rocks, eyeing the rocking ship with a sour look.
“Wyatt, Elden?” Hadrian called.
The ship was in fine shape. The mast, rail, and wheel block had a new whitewash and the deck was nicely scoured.
“Where did they get the paint?” Arista asked.
Hadrian was looking up. “I’m still impressed by this mast. Even with Elden, how did they set it?”
Not finding them on deck, they headed for the cabin. In the timeless world of the underground, it was possible they were both sleeping. Magnus was the first one through the door and the dwarf abruptly stopped, making an odd sound like a belch.
“Magnus?” Mauvin asked.
The dwarf did not answer. He collapsed as more than a half dozen goblins burst out of the hold, shrieking and skittering like crabs. Mauvin retreated, pulling his sword, and in the same motion cut the head off a charging Ghazel. Hadrian pushed Arista behind him and stood next to Mauvin, who had moved beside him.
Five Ghazel advanced across the deck holding their curved blades and small round shields adorned with finger-painted triangle symbols and tassels of seabird feathers and bone. They hissed as they approached in a line. Four more emerged from behind the cabin; three had bows and one, far smaller than the rest, was decorated in dozens of multicolored feathers. This one danced and hummed. There was one missing. Hadrian was sure he had seen another exit the cabin, not a warrior, not an oberdaza.
“Gaunt, Myron, Arista, get off the ship,” he told them as he and Mauvin spread out to block the Ghazels’ advance. Mauvin stroked his blade through the air, warming up, and Hadrian could see he was off tempo. His wounded arm would not allow him to move as he needed to.
Myron backed up but Arista and Gaunt refused.
“No,” Gaunt said. “Give me that big sword of yours.”
“Do you know how to fight?”
“Ha! I was the leader of the Nationalist Army, remember?”
Hadrian lunged forward, but it was a feint and he dodged left, spinning in a full circle. One of the goblins took the bait, rushed forward, and was in just the right spot when Hadrian came around with his swords. The goblin died with two blades in his body. Hadrian drew them out dramatically and shouted a roar at the others, causing them all to hesitate. While they did, he stepped on the dead goblin’s fallen sachel and slid it behind him to Gaunt. He roared again and kicked the shield back as well.