If they ever actually made it that far. As they headed out of the courtyard toward Falconer’s Spire, Sabira heard a shout behind them.
“Stop that dwarf!”
Greddark cursed.
“I think that’s our cue to run.”
Sabira didn’t even bother to ask why; the crossbow bolt that whizzed past her ear told her all she really needed to know.
“This way!” she cried, sprinting toward the western exit. They were halfway there when a group of men in silver armor walked into the courtyard in a group, laughing and chatting.
Wonderful. She’d forgotten that the fourth bell was shift change.
As the Silver Flame guards behind them started yelling at the guards in front of them, Sabira changed direction, making for the northwestern exit instead. She offered up a quick prayer to Olladra that Arach wouldn’t choose that precise moment to walk out of the Kundarak enclave with a dozen of his own guards in tow, but Sabira wasn’t sure the goddess of luck could hear her over the indignant cries of the Flamers-or that the Sovereign would answer Sabira’s supplications even if she could hear them.
But it seemed her luck hadn’t completely run out, for the walled area outside the courtyard was empty, save for a dwarf panhandler who shouted dire warnings at them as they passed by.
She led her motley group past the stump of a massive giantish pillar that separated the gates to the neighboring Kundarak and Jorasco enclaves. Magewrought notice boards floated at the base of the stone edifice, offering jobs for those either in need of coin or in want of fame. As the first of the Silver Flame guards entered the grassy enclosure behind them, Sabira had an idea. She stopped near the closest board and grabbed one of the metal dragon wings that formed its edge.
“Guisarme, Jester! Help me with this. Gred-er, whatever-you and Skraad grab that one!”
She tried to pull it around, but even with the help of the two warforged, it wouldn’t budge.
“No, like this!”
She looked over to see Greddark cutting off the ballast bag that hung from the stylized dragon tail on one side of his notice board. As the heavy sack hit the ground, the board canted at an angle and he and Skraad were able to move it. Working together, the duo forced it out onto the pathway, where it would hamper their pursuers. Then they quickly began dismantling another notice board.
She and the warforged followed suit and they soon had six listing notice boards strung out across the small enclosure, forming a bobbing blockade that would provide some protection from the crossbows the guards carried and would slow down their pursuit for a few moments, at least. Hopefully, that would be all the time they needed.
With Sabira back in the lead, they sprinted for the exit in the western wall. She almost thought they were going to make it out, but then she caught a glint of silver through the arch and realized that some of the Flamers had circled back through Soulgate to cut them off.
Greddark saw them at the same time and slowed to a stop.
“What so we do now? We’re trapped!”
Sabira cast about frantically for a way out and her eyes fell on the ladders on either side of the archway.
“Up!” she said, heading for the ladder to the left. As she scrambled up the rungs as fast as she could, she felt a rush of wind. A crossbow bolt with silver and white fletching buried itself into the stone mere inches from her face, but Sabira ignored it and kept going.
There was a cry below her as one of the bolts struck home. A quick glance showed Skraad just behind her, breaking the bolt in his arm off with his teeth while he fired his own crossbow with his other hand. His aim was truer, and one of the Flamers on the other side of the notice boards went down with a quarrel in his shoulder.
That left only one crossbowman to worry about; all the rest of the Silver Flame guards carried melee weapons.
She reached the top of the wall and leaped over a low railing while the others clambered up behind her. Greddark was last, and once he was clear of the ladder, he primed his alchemy blade and struck the top rung, setting the wood aflame. Nobody would be following them up.
Unfortunately, it also left them with no way to get down. Unlike most of the city above, the section of the wall they stood on didn’t readily connect with any other structure. There was only another ladder attached to the side of a pillar, leading farther up.
Greddark, realizing their predicament, looked over at her, and she shrugged.
“Might as well go as far as we can,” she said, and headed up the second ladder.
From the top of the pillar, they could just see the argent fire that topped the Sanctuary over to their right, and the draped awnings of the Marketplace’s Remembrance Plaza behind them, to the left. The iconic red tent was too far away to jump to, and wouldn’t have done much to break their landing in any case.
To the north stood their goal, rising up over the Marketplace, glowing blue in the late afternoon sun-Falconer’s Spire. So close and yet so utterly out of reach.
A red-winged airship that must be Kupper-Nickel’s was just taking off from the docking tower.
“That our ride?”
Sabira nodded to the orc.
“It was.”
As the blue elemental ring encircling the airship hummed to life, Sabira could just make out the tiny figures moving about the deck. She wondered if any of them could see her-if any of them were even looking.
“Onatar’s cold forge, but I wish I had a spyglass,” she muttered.
Something passed in front of her face, hovering a hair’s breadth from the tip of her nose. She pulled her head back to focus and saw it was the requested spyglass, being offered to her by the red-armored warforged.
“My lady commands,” he said with a bow.
Sabira took the proffered glass and held it up to her eye. Suddenly it was if she were standing on the deck of the Wayfinder’s airship, not on top of a pillar over more than a hundred feet away. She could see Kupper-Nickel standing near the wheelhouse, talking to the Lyrandar pilot. If only there were some way to get his attention…
“Gred-” Damn it, what was she supposed to call him? “Make your sword flame up again!”
“It doesn’t work that way,” the dwarf protested, drawing the blade to show her. “See, first I have to prime it, like this, then I have to hit some-”
Sabira tossed the spyglass back to Jester and yanked the hilt from Greddark’s surprised grasp. Then she whirled, slamming the flat of the blade up against Guisarme’s back with an echoing clang. The short sword erupted in flames, and Sabira pulled it back before it could harm the warforged. Then she began waving it back and forth over her head.
“Jester, the spyglass! Do they see us?”
The red warforged put the glass up to his rubylike eye and peered toward the tower.
“I don’t believe-no! I mean, yes! The warforged sees us! He’s pointing and yelling at someone!”
The airship turned and began heading toward them.
Sabira thumbed the same button Greddark had used to prime the alchemy blade to extinguish the flame and handed the sword back to him with a satisfied smile. Then she turned to Guisarme.
“Sorry ’bout that,” she said with a small, apologetic shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“I have no doubt.” The warforged’s tone was noncommittal, but Sabira thought she detected a trace of sarcasm.
“Glad we’re all still friends,” Skraad interrupted, “but do you think we could see about something a little more important, like getting the rest of this crossbow bolt out of my arm?”
As Greddark sheathed his blade and moved over to examine the wound, the orc looked at Sabira.
“Oh, and by the way-that fee we talked about? You’re gonna need to double it.”
CHAPTER TEN