Beside Horial, Edilus had drawn forth a totem, a bundle of twigs, leaves, and beads all tied together with strands of vine, and was chanting something indecipherable, his face turned heavenward and his eyes closed. Horial snuck a quick look toward the gap in the stone. The first shadows of moving figures were there, risking glances into the ruins, wary of attack from the defenders within. A lone swordsman stepped inside and rushed to the base of another crumbling wall, using it for cover. The figure gave a whistle and motioned for others to follow.
When Horial turned back to see what Edilus had planned, he saw that the druid had opened his eyes and was surveying the new arrivals. "Wait here," the woodsman said, then sprang up and launched himself forward, sprinting straight toward the wall behind which their enemies crouched.
If Horial hadn't heard the druid's command, he would have assumed that Edilus meant to throw himself among his enemies, going down fighting and buying the mercenaries the time they needed to escape. But the sergeant knew he would never reach the top of the stairs in time. Already, he was feeling light-headed from the wounds he bore. He watched, stunned, as Edilus rushed straight at the wall.
With a primal grunt of exertion, the druid slammed into the wall full on, driving his shoulder against it and making it shiver. The wall, already canted from time and neglect, shuddered. Edilus continued to push, snorting with the strain, even as the first of the enemy soldiers came around the end of the cover to confront him.
Horial managed to draw the line tight on his crossbow and cock it in place with his good hand. He pulled his last bolt from the quiver at his hip, slotted it, and took aim, balancing the weapon on his knee and holding it with one arm. The enemy soldier stepped closer to Edilus, drawing back his blade. The druid, involved in his own efforts, hadn't yet seen the man. Horial steadied the crossbow as best as he could and squeezed the trigger lever, sending the bolt flying.
The sergeant's aim was not true, but the shot managed to graze the soldier across the buttock. He yelped in pain and staggered as his intended strike was ruined. The blade slammed down against the stone wall with a clamor, inches from Edilus's head. The druid jerked away in surprise, and the resulting extra force seemed to overbalance the wall just enough. It began to sag away from the druid, rumbling as it teetered over.
The soldier standing next to Edilus gave a warning shout to his men, but the wall was already on its way down, crashing to the earth with a bone-jarring roar. Horial had no idea how many soldiers were caught beneath that deadfall, but he knew they had little chance to survive. Those who were lucky enough not to be inside the ruin yet would have to find a new entrance, for Edilus's efforts had sealed off the opening with rubble and dust.
The enemy soldier, limping, tried to retreat from Edilus, but he was not quick enough to jump out of the way of a ferocious kick from the druid. The man's head snapped sideways and he dropped like a stone. Edilus wasted no time checking whether his enemy had fallen unconscious or not. He raced back to Horial, who was trying to drag himself up the stairs.
"At the top," Edilus said as he bent and scooped Horial up like a bundle of laundry, "you must go through the portal on your own. I cannot touch you to help you through."
Horial grunted as the druid began to ascend the leaning, groaning staircase, taking the steps two at a time even with the burden of the wounded sergeant. "You're coming, too," the wounded man said, spying Grolo just beginning to step through the archway. "If you stay behind, you'll die."
"Then so be it," Edilus replied, not even breathing hard as he climbed. The staircase was beginning to twist and lean more, and Horial could feel the druid shifting his weight, trying to maintain his balance and reach the top before the whole thing gave way. "This is where I belong. I will stay."
"Don't be a fool!" Horial said. "If the fall from up here doesn't kill you, the soldiers will! Come through with us, and return to fight them another day!"
Edilus didn't say anything, for all of his energy, all of his concentration seemed to be devoted to making the last few steps. The stairs were dissolving, bits and pieces crumbling away as the main part of the staircase began leaning, falling. At the top, on a tiny ledge that had remained intact, Edilus set Horial down so the man could put his weight on his good leg. He tried to step back, give the sergeant some room, but Horial shook his head.
"Come on!" he shouted, just as a swarm of Silver Ravens poured into the open space below. Edilus shook his head in denial, but Horial wasn't having any of it. Grabbing the druid, he jerked the man toward him. At the same time, he reached out to fall through the portal, intending to drag Edilus with him.
Horial was stunned to discover that his companion seemed rooted to the spot like a rock, but it made no difference. As the first swarm of arrows flew toward the two men from below, all the world shifted, and the sergeant and the druid vanished from sight just as the stones of the staircase crashed to the ground below.
CHAPTER 5
"Come on, you, move it," the small, wiry man known as Lak said, jabbing at Pilos's back with the butt end of his dagger. The priest grunted from the poke and tried to step faster, but descending the narrow, steep spiral staircase with his hands manacled behind his back was tricky work. The task was made even more difficult because of the limited light. The wizard in the magenta vest carried a single torch with her, but she was in the front of the procession. The other prisoner, Quill, walked behind the woman, with the big thug, Borth, keeping an eye on him. That left Pilos and Lak to bring up the rear, and in the narrow, crowded confines of the stairwell, not much illumination was reaching them.
Still, Pilos did the best he could, figuring if he did stumble and fall, he would land on Borth rather than tumble down the stairs. For a moment, he considered doing that anyway, wondering what the chances were of inflicting a few broken necks on his captors as they went sprawling. Those odds seemed better to the young priest than meekly being led to his death, but just when he was working up his courage to try the stunt, the stairwell began to give clues to their location.
The young Abreeant priest had noticed during the descent that the air was growing more humid and carried the odor of the harbor, and he suspected that they were nearing sea level. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed that the steps and walls had abruptly turned slimy with moisture. The stairs also ceased then, leveling out into a straight and narrow passage. The entourage stopped as the wizard reached some sort of gate that barred their way.
The woman fumbled with it for a moment, presumably manipulating a lock, though Pilos couldn't see to know for sure. She shifted a huge bar, allowing the gate to swing open, away from herself. She passed through the barrier and the rest of the group followed behind. After perhaps half a dozen more steps, the route emerged into a much larger passage. Pilos was wary, wondering where the thugs had brought him.
The open space was actually a low-ceilinged tunnel, perhaps ten paces wide, that vanished into the distance, well beyond the light of the torch. It stank of waste and sea salt. Runnels of liquid poured down the walls or directly from small holes in the ceiling in various places, and the sounds of drips and splashes echoed in the distance.
The group stood at the end of the tunnel. At the time, only brown sludge covered the bottom of the passage, but Pilos understood that the water level sometimes rose up past the roof when-
When the tide comes in, the priest realized, his fears growing. This is the sewer, and it connects to the harbor!
As if sensing Pilos's desperate recognition, the wizard chuckled. "Lak, Borth, get them ready," she said, sitting down on one side of the gate and opening a bag she carried. "We don't have much time," she urged.