At that moment, the group came under attack from arrow fire. One of the missiles tore through Shanhaevel’s cloak, barely missing his leg. Another caught Ahleage in the arm. He cried out and nearly dropped his bow.
“The tower!” yelled Govin, turning his shield to ward off any more shots aimed at him. “They’re firing from the arrow slits! Get into cover!”
The group managed to retreat from the tower and fend off the attacks of the ravens at the same time, moving into a grove of usks, short bushy trees usually prized for their sweet fruit. The pale blue, still-unripe fruit of these particular twisted, stunted specimens were tainted with angry red splotches, however.
From this protected spot, the battle continued in the sleet. At first, the ravens were everywhere, and Shanhaevel suffered several cuts on his arms and hands from the flyby attacks, but the bowmen soon took their toll on the birds, dropping them out of the sky one by one. Finally, when but one or two of the giant creatures remained aloft, they turned and flew away, leaving the Alliance crouched among the sickly trees, wet, bleeding, and panting. A handful of giant birds that had been shot were only wounded, flapping their wings haphazardly and struggling to move across the ground. Elmo stepped out to dispatch the injured ones with his axe and to retrieve intact arrows. Shirral tended to everyone’s wounds.
“Well, if they didn’t know we were coming before,” Ahleage snarled quietly in disgust, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder toward the tower behind him, “they sure as hells know now. There’s no way to get over there without being turned into a pincushion. I might be able to sneak up there, but what then? I’m not going in there by myself.”
Shanhaevel thought for a moment. A possibility occurred to him, but he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. What choice do we have? he asked himself. Sighing, he said, “I have an idea, but it isn’t terribly noble. It’ll kill them, hopefully all of them, in one blow. Before I agree to do this, though, I want to give them a fair warning.”
“I’ll go order them to surrender,” Govin said. “We’ll see what happens.”
The knight stood and walked out toward the tower. He approached the main door, his shield held before him. The rest of the group watched from cover.
“Hear me!” Govin called out. “In the name of Cuthbert and goodness, surrender! We offer you this one chance, or we will destroy you!”
In reply, several arrows hissed out from the arrow slits, causing the knight to flinch back behind his shield. Backing away hastily, Govin returned to the others.
“All right, I gave them a chance. Whether they think we’re bluffing or not, they want a fight. What do you have in mind, wizard?”
“Wait and watch,” Shanhaevel said, preparing to cast his magic. Taking a deep breath, he began an incantation to render himself invisible. As he finished the spell and faded from sight, Ahleage chuckled.
“I was hoping you’d do that,” the man said.
“Shhh,” Shanhaevel said quietly. “I’m almost ready. Govin, give me about two minutes, then come out and make that same demand again.”
“Yes, I like offering myself as an easy target,” the knight grumbled. “All right, two minutes.”
Shanhaevel stood. “The rest of you, sit tight. This shouldn’t take long.”
He made his way toward the tower, trying to disturb as little of the grass and weeds beneath his feet as possible. He crept along, using his staff for balance, checking to see if he was leaving easily discernable footprints in the mud. So far, so good, he told himself as he got to the base of the tower, near one of the arrow slits. Now, he only had to wait until Govin appeared again.
A moment later, the knight came out, his shield held in front of himself. When Govin reached the point where he had been previously, he called out again. “This is your last chance. Surrender now, or we will attack!”
Shanhaevel could hear a handful of snickers through the arrow slit, and then he heard movement from just on the other side of the opening. More arrows shot out at the knight, who was struck once in the arm and howled in pain as he backed away, eliciting more guffaws from inside the tower.
Grimly, Shanhaevel peeked inside the arrow slit and saw a scruffy looking bandit, a bow in hand, peering right at him. He had to fight the urge to jerk back away from the man, but it was obvious that the bandit did not see him. The man stepped away from the arrow slit, letting a piece of black canvas fall across the opening. Nodding and taking a deep breath to calm himself, Shanhaevel whispered his spell, bringing his staff up as he did so. When he neared the end of the incantation, he thrust his staff through the opening, forcing the canvas back out of the way, and pointed his finger inside.
There was a single surprised yelp from the other side of the arrow slit, but Shanhaevel, knowing that his spellcasting had negated the invisibility and that he was now visible again, had already ducked away, crouching low and pressing himself tightly to the base of the tower. A heartbeat later, there was a muffled but concussive thump as the elf’s spell went off. Tongues of flame shot out of each of the arrow slits like fiery breath from some beast, and then vanished. Nodding in grim satisfaction, the wizard motioned for his companions to join him.
The rest of the group moved out of hiding and came running toward the tower. There was no arrow fire this time. When they reached the base of the tower, Ahleage stared at Shanhaevel.
“What the hells did you do?” the man asked.
“Flung a little magic their way,” Shanhaevel replied.
“It looks like the whole inside of the tower exploded,” Elmo said. “I’ve heard of spells like that. You did that?”
Shanhaevel nodded, but he didn’t feel much like celebrating. “I did. I doubt anyone survived.” The thought made him grimace. “It’s a pretty brutal spell.”
Govin, his arm apparently healed by Shirral, had his sword out. “Let’s get out of the slush and see.”
The door turned out to be barred and chained on the outside, but it didn’t take Ahleage long to defeat the lock.
“That’s odd,” Shanhaevel observed. “They must come and go by a different route.”
“Perhaps they have a way to the temple inside,” Govin suggested.
Inside, the acrid smell of sulfurous smoke and burned flesh was strong. Entering cautiously, weapons at the ready, the Alliance crept inside the tower.
None of the bandits remained alive. From their positioning, it was obvious that they had been lying in wait, prepared to ambush anyone foolish enough to enter the tower through the main doors. Two low walls flanked the entrance, designed to funnel intruders toward a central point where ranks of spearmen and crossbowmen would annihilate them. The bodies were still in those spots. The fiery burst of magic had killed them instantly and dropped them where they had stood.
Guilt washed over Shanhaevel. They never knew what hit them, he thought. He tried not to imagine what it must have felt like, that instant of fiery death. They attacked us, he reminded himself, and they serve an evil so powerful that it’s palpable. He shook his head, refusing to grieve for these thugs.
The group wasted little time exploring the interior of the tower, lighting a couple of lanterns and beginning to explore. The main room, where the bandits had died, held little besides rude furniture and some old cloaks and blankets, as well as some sacks of foodstuffs. The remains of a half-eaten meal still rested on the tabletops, burned to a crisp, now. From the rafters hung various smoked meats and sausages, along with some bags of herbs and onions. Beneath an ascending staircase—blocked at its upper end by the collapse of the upper levels of the tower—were several barrels filled with water, beer, and sour-smelling wine.