Tythonnia saw the opportunity and took it. She raised her hands and gestured, forming a rapid series of signs with interlocking fingers.
“Sihir anak!” She felt her heart surge four times at each fast, panicked beat. The daggers snaked and darted toward the huntress, bolting around anyone in the way.
The renegade huntress pivoted to face her. The bronze tome sent out a spark of electricity that traveled along one set of chains and up her blade arm. Her thin blade moved of its own volition, blocking each of the incoming missiles and bursting them. Tythonnia was too shocked to act; no one had ever been able to intercept that spell before.
Fortunately, since the huntress faced her, she didn’t see Par-Salian emerge from the crowd behind her. As he strode forward, Par-Salian raised his hand. A sphere of shimmering energy suddenly enveloped the huntress, trapping her like a fly in amber. She struggled to escape, but the sphere of energy held her solidly. Par-Salian kept marching straight toward Ladonna, intent on helping her. The second hunter, a burly man, emerged from the crowd near Par-Salian and took a second too long to assess the situation.
With nary a hesitation, Par-Salian snapped one arm across his body so his hand pointed over his shoulder back at the hunter. A sudden wind rustled Par-Salian’s clothes. The upturned grass rippled at its push, and both the hunter and the shocked bystanders around him were suddenly bowled over by the savage gust. The air seemed to wrinkle and form a solid mass of wind that ripped and tore at the ground.
Tythonnia broke through the mob, which was drawing away from the scene, and rushed to Ladonna and Par-Salian just as Ladonna pulled herself free. Unfortunately, her panicked Abanasinian still struggled against its webbed prison, as did four other men and women caught in the magic. In the distance, knights shouted and struggled to reach them.
“My horse,” Ladonna said.
“No time,” Par-Salian replied. “We must leave, now!”
“Why are they after us?” Tythonnia asked, helping Ladonna to her feet. She stared at the huntress, who glared back through the sparkling globe of energy.
“Enough time for that later,” he whispered. “The keep gate is blocked. Can we go through the Clerist’s Tower?”
Ladonna nodded. “But there will be guards.”
“To the tower, then,” Par-Salian ordered.
“What about the horses?” Tythonnia said.
“We’ll have to improvise.”
The three wizards aimed for the tower’s central ramp. The wall of people seemed to melt at their advance, unwilling to touch or be near them. Fortunately, the deeper they drove into the mob, the more they blended in. Only a handful of people had seen them, and soon the companions moved past pilgrims and gate guards who were trying to get a better vantage of the action.
They reached the ramp and assessed their situation. A group of knights was confronting the two renegade hunters, though the huntress was still trapped in the sphere. The larger man was arguing with two knights who had drawn their blades and was pointing in their direction. Par-Salian urged them to keep moving.
A great stone ramp led up to the mighty steel gate of the exterior battlements, which were open. The gate alone was worth a dragon’s ransom in wealth for the steel-starved continent.
Tythonnia and her compatriots passed under the large archway of stained rock and into a narrow courtyard that buffered the outer battlements from the octagonal tower. The central courtyard where they found themselves was sealed off, however, by two double doors to either side.
Par-Salian uttered a minor curse under his breath. They couldn’t use the courtyard to circumnavigate the tower. They had to get inside.
Directly ahead of them, a pair of stairs rose to the exterior ledge of the second story, where the temples were located. Pilgrims dotted the path. Between the stairs was a large corridor, which ended at a mammoth and rusting portcullis that barred further entry into the tower. The passage was also lined with angular columns shaped like serrated teeth.
Shouts drew their attention to the battlements above. A knight on the outer ramparts was pointing down at them and screaming something unintelligible but loud enough to attract attention. Par-Salian pushed Tythonnia and Ladonna up the stairs, past a handful of startled pilgrims. It was only then that one of the guards at the gate noticed them. He rushed across the courtyard, intent on giving chase.
They reached the top of the stairs, where a rail hedged the ledge and a tower archway opened into a small temple. Par-Salian led them toward the archway, the shouts behind them growing in volume.
Par-Salian snarled as he looked inside the temple. Beyond the row of intricately decorated pillars, past the pilgrims genuflecting at the kneeling slabs, was an altar, and behind it, a massive golden door that was sealed.
“Not that way!” Par-Salian said, pointing toward the ledge around to the right.
“Stop!” a knight shouted. He’d just reached the top of the stairs while trying to draw his sword.
“Don’t hurt him!” Par-Salian cried just as Ladonna raised her hand in his direction. An onyxlike stone from her ring finger levitated into the air before the color vanished from its surface, turning milky white. The knight’s eyes widened and he suddenly cried a scream that cut right through them. He sliced at the air with his blade, desperately fending away some unseen horror before he stumbled down the stairs in panic. He tripped and fell down the remaining steps.
Par-Salian grabbed Ladonna’s arm. “I said not to hurt him!” he roared.
“And we can’t be caught!” Ladonna shouted back as she pulled free of his grip.
“Let Tythonnia handle them,” he said, pushing them along the ledge again.” Your illusions!” Par-Salian said to Tythonnia. “Use your illusions.”
Tythonnia nodded, even as she pulled a small crystal rod from a pouch. As they cleared the first corner of the eight-sided tower, they could see more stairs leading upwards and a knight left to guard its access. He was alert and debating whether to investigate the shouts or remain at his post.
“Hold on here. What’s going on?” he demanded and pointed his broadsword at them.
Tythonnia reacted and pointed the crystal rod at him. There was no need to mouth the words of the spell as she envisioned the kaleidoscope of a shattered rainbow, the lights hypnotic. Colors filled the gap between the two of them, a shifting blur of hues. The colored lights swarmed the knight, who instantly relaxed, his expression deadening until he looked serene. His sword clattered to the ground, and the colors vanished.
“It won’t last long,” Tythonnia said as they passed him. “Hurry.”
Another corner passed and another side of the octagonal tower stood revealed. They faced more stairs descending into the adjoining keep-definitely not an escape option-and another temple entry. As they ran past the archway, they saw the same layout as before, with the column, altar, and golden door, but no pilgrims this time. From the side stairwells, they could hear men below making their ascent. And ahead of them echoed more shouts.
Par-Salian hesitated. There was no way out except the way they had come. Ladonna’s eyes lit up, however, and she pulled Par-Salian by the arm into the temple. Tythonnia followed.
“There’s a door,” Par-Salian protested. “Likely locked.”
“Once a thief,” Ladonna mumbled.
“What?”
“Trust me,” she shouted more forcibly. She ran past the kneeling slabs and up behind the altar. Once at the golden door, she ran her fingers along its yellow surface, a smirk on her lips. The voices outside grew louder.
Ladonna leaned in close to the door and whispered a word …