Horial rolled his eyes, knowing that in the dark, the other man could not see his expression. "We're just as ready," he replied.
"You have the key I gave you?" Edilus asked, ignoring the sergeant's comment.
Horial felt in his pocket for the gem the druid had given to him back at the encampment. The shard of quartz was still there. "Yes," he answered. "And you're sure it will get us all through the portal? Just the one piece?"
"As long as you do not delay," Edilus answered. "The one with the key must go first, and all others who wish to pass through must follow quickly behind, while the magic is active. It should be accomplished easily."
"All right then," Horial said. "Let's go."
"As soon as I receive the signal," the druid said, "we will cross the road and enter the ruins."
At that moment, a low, cooing call of a morning bird sounded from the distance. Edilus snapped his head around in the darkness. "There," he said, rising to his feet. "That's the signal. It's time to cross."
The group rose up and began moving forward again, and after only a few paces, passed out of the forest and through the scrub brush along its fringe. Out in the open, Selune-although a mere sliver right before her new phase-cast welcome illumination to light the journey. Wading through damp, waist-high grass, the five mercenaries and their escort of wood-folk crossed the open ground toward the place where the road from Reth circumnavigated the Nunwood toward Hlath. Although it was the only overland route between the two cities, the avenue was nothing more than hard-packed soil, but it was wide enough for three wagons to pass.
As the entourage reached the road and crossed to the far side, Horial noticed the outline of a structure in the distance. It seemed all leaning angles and jagged edges, and Edilus was leading them toward it. They closed the distance, the mercenaries following Edilus while the rest of the druids fanned out on every side, staring into the night, sniffing the air or listening. Horial thought they seemed on edge.
"That must be it," Adyan whispered beside Horial. "It'll be nice to sleep in a soft, dry bed in Arrabar tonight. It seems like it's been a month since we left."
Horial started to reply, but the whinnying of a horse cut him off. It sounded close. At almost the same instant, Edilus went to ground, dropping low enough into the grass so as to vanish.
What the-? Horial thought as he looked in the direction from which the sound had seemed to come. Nothing was visible-merely the open road under the night sky. There were no horses and no place to hide within several hundred paces. But the mercenary had not imagined the sound, for everyone around him was reacting as well.
"Back into the trees," Edilus hissed, rising up into a low crouch and beginning to jog toward the safety of the forest.
Before the druid had even gone three steps, an arrow hissed out of the night, sinking into the ground near his feet. A shout rose up from nearby. "To arms, to arms!" someone cried, and light suddenly illuminated the area from several locations about the group as more arrows fell among its members.
Horial spun about in place, trying to discern where the shouts had originated, but the sudden glow of lights in the sky forced him to squint and shield his eyes. He recognized the magical effect.
Just like Vambran's signal flares, the sergeant realized.
By that point the pounding of hooves sounded nearby, and the mercenary could see a cadre of cavalrymen rushing toward the group. They seemed to have appeared out of thin air, for there was no place close by where they could have hidden beforehand. From another direction, more soldiers charged toward them on foot, again much too near to have been hiding anywhere but in the tall grasses. Then Horial noticed a group of infantry, and yet another of cavalry. In all, nearly half a dozen small units of troops were bearing down on them, easily forty soldiers or more.
Silver Ravens.
"Ambush!" the sergeant cried out, realizing that the group was almost surrounded. The only direction that remained open for retreat was away from the forest. "To the ruins!" he shouted, grabbing at Burtis, who had dropped to one knee and was loading his crossbow. "Don't waste your ammunition!" he told the Crescent as he shoved the man in the direction of the portal.
A crossbow bolt zipped past Horial's head as he spun and found Filana looking about, dazed. Horial tried to take hold of the woman and show her the direction he wished her to go, but she sagged down at his feet then, and he saw the arrow jutting from the small of her back.
"Damn it to the Nine Hells," Horial swore as he bent down and scooped the soldier up. Hefting Filana over his shoulder, he began to charge across the field as fast as his burden would allow. He spotted Edilus nearby, twirling a sling over his head and aiming at an oncoming mounted soldier. The druid released the sling and fired the stone just as Horial reached him. "Help me!" Horial said, trying to grab at the woodsman and pull him along. "I can't carry her by myself!"
Edilus spun to stare at the sergeant, hatred plain in his expression. "Betrayer!" he shouted in fury. "You warned them that we were coming! You planned this ambush!"
Horial nearly punched the druid in the face. "So they could run down my own soldiers? You're crazed!" Then he shook his head. "Suit yourself," he said, trying to quell his anger. He turned to run.
Ahead, Adyan, Burtis, and Grolo had reached the base of the outer wall of the ruined structure. The had formed a line and were firing back toward Horial and the wounded Filana, aiming at targets that must have been just behind the two of them. To Horial's amazement, two druids-one a wild elf and one a halfling, both with leaves and twigs tangled in their hair-had joined the mercenaries, working together to try to hold the ambush at bay long enough to allow their companions to catch up.
In the next instant, Horial felt the jolt of impact twice in succession, and Filana jerked on his shoulder with a scream of agony. The mercenary felt two more strikes, but the woman did not react at all.
Then an arrow sank into the flesh of Horial's leg, just above the knee, and he went down in a tumble.
This is it, the sergeant thought, groaning as he waited for the mounted troops to ride him down. May Waukeen deem me worthy to be received in Brightwater, he prayed.
Just beyond Horial's sight, he heard the scream of men and mount, and the clash of weapon on weapon. Then, without warning, Edilus was there beside him, trying to help him up. Horial reached for Filana, trying to find a way to lift her while pushing on one good leg.
"Leave her," the druid snapped, grabbing at the sergeant and dragging him to his feet. "She's already left this world."
Indeed, Horial could see by then the multitude of arrows protruding from her back, one at the base of her skull. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat in sorrow, then grunted as Edilus forced him to move. Together, the mercenary and the druid limped toward the others. But they could not move fast enough to evade the first group of horsemen bearing down on them.
Edilus let Horial slide down to the ground as the druid yanked his scimitar free of a scabbard across his back and slashed at the closest cavalryman. Horial managed to get to one knee and bring his crossbow up, aiming at the next mounted foe coming in, a mace held high and ready to deliver a crushing blow. The sergeant fired his weapon and saw the horseman twitch then pitch off the far side of his saddle as the horse thundered by.
A hail of arrows and bolts swished through the air near Horial, and one caught him in the shoulder. The force of the missile wrenched him around and he groaned, letting the crossbow slide free of his grip as he sagged forward, his face pressing into the cool damp earth beneath him. For the second time that night, the mercenary was certain he would die.