“Bring him!” Adu’lin shouted, now sounding impatient.
Adham drew the guard’s sword. Preparing to free Ba’Sel, he heard Adu’lin’s approaching footsteps.
“Spring is such a beautiful time, don’t you think?” Ba’Sel asked.
Adham did not waste breath answering the senseless question, but instead slashed the man’s bindings, and then tore off his blindfold. “Can you stand?”
Ba’Sel blinked owlishly. “This is not my village, not Salgo.… What is this place?” His black eyes grew wide, and he flinched when he looked to Adham. “Where am I, and … who are you?”
“You are in danger, and I am a friend,” Adham snarled, unable to hide his frustration. “If you want to live, we must flee.”
“Orest, what is taking so long?” Adu’lin sounded one step beyond the threshold, and coming closer.
Adham caught Ba’Sel’s shoulder, and began pulling him to the door Ulmek and the others had used to escape.
Ba’Sel gave a terrified squawk and jerked free. “I do not know you!” he shrieked. “Do not touch me!”
At a sharp curse, Adham spun to find Adu’lin glaring at him.
“I grow weary of your mischief, Izutarian,” the Fauthian said. He made no attempt to produce a weapon. “So weary, in truth, that I can no longer see the benefit of keeping you alive.”
“So be it,” Adham growled, and charged.
Adu’lin’s assuredness broke under Adham’s battle cry. He wheeled and disappeared into the gloom beyond the doorway. Adham followed.
Two paces into the next chamber, Adham slid to a halt. In the darkness beyond the doorway, many pairs of silvery eyes glimmered from the silhouetted heads of men, telling him they were men no more.
The Brothers, men he counted as friends, had been forcibly possessed by Mahk’lar. Those unblinking gazes turned his way. More shapes, malformed and hideous, flitted behind the Brothers, seeking living bodies to take for their own, if only for a short time before their presence destroyed or changed that flesh.
“Kill him,” Adu’lin cried. “Kill them both!”
The shadowed Mahk’lar host and the possessed Brothers moved as one. Adham whirled and ran.
When he returned to the hall, he discovered that Ba’Sel had fled. Cursing, he debated only half a moment before deciding that Ba’Sel, in all his demented madness, would have to fend for himself. Leitos was lost, and when the choice lay between his son and a madman, Adham saw no choice.
He sprinted from the hall, the Fauthian long sword in his hand ready to cleave the spirit from any enemy who came between him and escape.
Rounding a corner, he met a startled guard. The Fauthian recoiled, instinctively raising his spear. Without slowing, Adham lopped off the burnished tip, spun in a flashing circle, and sent the snaky bastard’s head rolling.
Before the thrashing corpse struck the floor, Adham was off again, seeking a door or window, any portal he could use to get into the open.
When he saw the broad double doors at the end of a branching corridor, he knew he had found what he sought. As soon as he turned, a pair of Fauthians moved into view.
Bellowing like a madman, Adham snatched a torch from an iron sconce, and flew into the midst of his enemies. The first fell with a garbled screech, sliced groin to sternum. The next warrior blanched and backed away. Adham pursued, alternating his attacks with torch and sword. The guard fended off the initial strike with his spear, but Adham made quick work of reducing the weapon to kindling. The Fauthian tried to ward against a last blow, but Adham thrust the torch through his weak defense, jabbing the sputtering flames against his face. The Fauthian screamed, and Adham ran him through, then batted him aside.
He flung up an iron locking bar, and thrust the doors open. Expecting to meet resistance, he was surprised to find none. The first hint of the coming dawn showed as a gray aura over the eastern mountains. He headed that way at a sprint, and rapidly escaped the palace grounds.
Wanting to distance himself from Adu’lin’s horde, he kept to that street until he came to an intersection. Taking the one bearing off to the east, he ran at a slower pace.
A few more twists and turns led him to a great square with a central fountain fashioned into a horror of scales and coiled limbs. Given the Fauthian alliance with the Mahk’lar, he now understood their appreciation for such grotesque works.
Going slower now, he kept to shadows and what cover he could find. Alleys served well to keep him hidden from any searching eyes. In zigzag fashion, he discovered that, despite its level appearance, the city had a slight upward tilt. By the time he reached the city wall, he had a fair vantage point from which to survey the way he had come.
Hidden deep within the lingering darkness of a wall, careful to make no sudden movements, Adham straightened to his full height. Under a brightening sky, he searched for but saw no followers. He knew they were there, somewhere, stalking him.
Turning the other way, Adham froze.
Across the southern tip of Armala, beyond a tall watchtower, he saw two men standing on the wall. One faced inward, a bow held at full draw. Another bowman looked outward. By their proportions, they could not be Fauthians.
He waited, unsure what they were up to. His answer came a moment later.
Between the two figures, another man stood up and moved off to one side. In rapid succession, a score of warriors had mounted the wall, all armed with bows, and all seemingly intent on making sure no one within the city could launch a surprise attack.
Yatoans, he thought sure, and wondered if they would accept him into their ranks, or kill him outright.
He had decided to give them a wide berth, when another figure stood up. Adham’s heart began hammering. Even at a distance, and without clear sight of his face, Adham knew he gazed upon his son. Briefly it crossed his mind that Leitos might be a captive of the bloodthirsty Yatoans, but Adham did not think so.
A surreptitious movement drew Adham’s eye back toward the heart of the city. Though still some distance off, Adu’lin’s forces crept toward the Yatoans. Fauthians came bearing longbows; Mahk’lar wove through and around buildings, shapeless fiends of oily black smoke; the forsaken Brothers of the Crimson Shield marched stiffly, with swords and bows at the ready. He spied yet another group of men, who scampered with an odd rolling gait. Kelrens. Adham had forgotten all about them, after the Brothers gave them into Adu’lin’s hands.
Knowing time was short, but knowing also that he must determine Adu’lin’s strategy if he were to be of any help at all, Adham continued his survey. In doing so, he saw a sight that chilled his flesh. Mingled throughout the advancing force strode dozens of Alon’mahk’lar, their heads turning to show the outlines of curving horns.
By now, the advancing force had spread out in a large half-moon circle, with one end anchoring at the western watchtower, and the loose end swinging around to the tower nearest Adham. The Fauthian element, some two score, broke from the main body and began vanishing into the watchtowers and the tallest buildings, those that would provide the best places from which to rain down arrows upon the Yatoans-
And my son! With that thought, Adham was off and running. He gave no thought to strategy or avoidance. There was little even the hardest, most skilled soldiers could do against such an overwhelming force, save retreat. But before the Yatoans could know that was their only choice, Adham had to deliver the warning. And to do that, he had to break through a line of inhuman warriors that knew not fear or remorse, but only a hunger for death and blood.
Chapter 34
Feeling exposed atop the city wall under the brightening dawn, Leitos searched Armala. Shadows lingered, made sharper and deeper by the rising sun, but otherwise all lay still and quiet. A flicker caught his eye, and he glanced at the same watchtower he had climbed before escaping the city. Its upper windows stood empty.