Abn Thuset's final ward had gotten some good men, but she hadn't gotten them all. Somewhere under him, he knew, the stone face of the wizardqueen's statue looked up at him with ire.
"You have a lovely home, milady," he said to her.
They fought the waves and their wounds as they tried to make for the distant beach, further exhausting themselves. They swam, floated, and sputtered along the cliff face toward the shoreline. By the time they made it, Nix felt as though he had swum a league. His arms hung dead from his shoulders. He was giddy when he felt a sandy bottom under his feet. He and Egil stood in the chest-high water and waded in, assisted by the rolling surf. Nix's body ached all over. He was burned in places, and he'd wrenched his right leg. He favored it as the water grew shallower, stumbled often.
Beside him, the priest looked slumped, bedraggled, his mustache, beard, and ruff of hair sodden. Burns pinked his face, forearms, and his tattooed scalp.
"Hurt the leg?" Egil asked Nix. "Can you walk?"
"Barely," Nix said, limping on the wounded leg. "Must have twisted it fleeing the flames."
Gulls flew around them, cawed irritably. Shouts sounded from their left, from atop the cliff. Nix saw figures there, and raised a hand to hail them, but they must not have seen him. More shouts from behind the rise that hid the beach from the plains. Sounded like Jyme.
"Here," Nix tried to call, but his raw throat mustered a poor shout. He stripped off his cloak and shirt as he plodded through the surf, wrung them out. Egil did the same. Both of them shivered in the cool air.
"Anything?" Nix said, holding his arms out and turning a circle so Egil could see his back.
"An unimpressive physique and a few burns, but nothing that'll kill you," Egil said, and held out his own arms and turned. "Me?"
Nix eyed the priest's broad back. "How am I supposed to see anything through all that back hair? No wonder you didn't get burned. You've a pelt."
"Fak you."
Nix chuckled. "No wounds that I can see through the thicket, save minor burns. You're good."
"I wouldn't say that," Egil said, and sagged to the sand. Nix did the same. He felt like he could have slept a week. They sat there shivering, too tired to stand. A few gulls approached, eyeing them warily.
More shouts from over the rise. Jyme was getting closer. Startled by Jyme's shouts, the gulls cawed and flew off.
Halfheartedly, Nix said, "Maybe we should kill Rakon now. What do you think?"
The spellworm rewarded his words and thoughts with a bout of nausea. The discomfort felt almost quaint after the pain of fire.
Egil clutched his stomach, grimaced against the pain of the worm. "Tempting, I admit. But I figure he was just aiding his sisters. We all do things to help those we love, right?"
"Right," Nix said, thinking of the Vwynn he'd killed to save Egil.
"We can't kill him just because he's a prick, can we?" Egil asked. "We make that our rule and our blades will be bloody until we're graybeards."
"Plenty of pricks in Ellerth," Nix agreed. "And yet… the sisters he seeks to help are witches."
"And he's a sorcerer," Egil said thoughtfully. He looked up. "Perhaps we should kill him, do the world a service."
The words made Egil groan with pain, the worm vexing him. He punched himself in the stomach.
"It's worth it, you fakkin' worm."
"I think we'd have to kill Baras and Jyme to get to him," Nix said. "I've no stomach for that."
"Baras, maybe," Egil said. "Not Jyme. But what if the Lord Mayor somehow learned we'd killed his Adjunct? We'd never be able to return to Dur Follin."
"I do sort of like it there," Nix said. He sighed. "Well enough. You make fair points. We let him live. I was just trying on a thought, is all. I get irritable when my flesh is nearly consumed in fire. Another time, maybe."
"Another time," Egil agreed.
Jyme's shouts sounded nearer.
"Over here!" Nix called, managing a creditable yell.
Jyme appeared atop the rise that overlooked the beach, his eyes wide, his face wearing an expression of shock.
"Gods, men! There you are! We saw that fire! Hells, the whole hill vibrated!" He shouted up at the cliff. "My lord! Baras! I've found them! They're here! Over here!"
Baras's shout answered from atop the cliff.
"On our way!"
In moments Rakon and Baras were hurrying down the hill, leading the horses.
Jyme hurried toward Egil and Nix, stumbling in the sand as he ran. "Where are the others?"
"It's just us," Nix said.
"Shite," Jyme said. He made the symbol of Orella with his hand.
"Aye," Egil said. "Shite. They were good men."
Nix stood and pulled on his shirt, wincing from various pains. Egil did the same.
"Is that it?" Jyme asked, nodding at the horn Nix had placed on the sand. "The horn?"
Nix had almost forgotten about it. He picked it up and examined it more closely. It felt heavier than it should, given its size and composition. His hands tingled from its enchantment.
"What's all that writing mean?" Jyme asked.
Nix shrugged. "I can't read it."
"How in the Pits do you rob all these tombs if you can't read Afirion?"
Egil shook his head. Nix sighed.
"Jyme, robbing tombs, as you so genteelly put it, involves avoiding traps, crawling through dirt, picking locks, and sometimes, sometimes, killing guardians. As a rule, poetry readings are not required. I can read enough, but not this. It's an older dialect, I think."
"I… I only meant…"
"Just shut up, Jyme," Egil said.
Rakon and Baras crested the rise, leaving the horses behind them. Rakon stood his ground atop it. Baras continued toward them.
"Do you have it?" Rakon called. He shifted from foot to foot. "The horn? Do you have it?"
"We have it, you bunghole," Nix muttered.
Jyme chuckled.
"My men?" Baras asked, looking up and down the beach.
Egil shook his head. "They didn't come out."
"Sorry, Baras," Nix said.
"Shite," Baras said.
"Do they have it, Baras?" Rakon called again, his voice tense.
Baras's face flashed irritation, but only for a moment. His eyes fell on the horn Nix held. Over his shoulder, he called, "They have it, my lord."
"Well done! Bring it to me, Baras."
Nix handed the instrument to Baras.
"It damned well better work after all this," Baras said softly, eyeing the horn. "Good men died for it."
"Uh, take anything else out of there?" Jyme asked. "Anything valuable?"
"Our lives," Nix said irritably. "But maybe you meant something else?"
"No offense meant," Jyme said. "Just asking, is all."
"It's forgotten," Nix said with a sigh. "I'm irritable, is all."
"Hurry, Baras," Rakon said, his voice greedy with anticipation. The sorcerer looked to the sky, the setting sun turning it red. "Hurry!"
Baras jogged the horn over to Rakon. Egil, Nix, and Jyme started for the rise. The moment Baras handed the horn to Rakon, Nix felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, as if he'd been stabbed. He doubled over, groaning. Egil did the same.
"What is it?" Jyme asked. "What's wrong?"
Nix tried to speak, but the squirming in his guts allowed him to do nothing but heave. He put his hands on his knees and puked bile, then a long, thick stream of sputum that seemed to go on forever. Beside him, Egil did the same.
"There's something wrong with them," Jyme called to Rakon.
"There's nothing wrong," Rakon said. "They completed their charge and now they're free of the spellworm."
The heaves went on for some time, Egil and Nix purging themselves of Rakon's compulsion. When they were done, twin snakes of greenish-black phlegm lay glistening in the sand.