His glance crossed the doorway, spied a frightened Snoopy watching from the dark landing. “Oh, child. Child, get out of here.”
“I’m scared. They’re killing each other outside.”
We’re killing each other in here, too, he thought. Please go away. “Go find Jasmine.”
A horrendous crash came from the shop. Men cursed. Steel met steel. Bomanz heard the voice of one of Tokar’s teamsters. The man was deploying a defense of the house.
The Guard had made a comeback.
Snoopy whimpered.
“Stay out of here, child. Stay out. Go down with Jasmine.”
“I’m scared.”
“So am I. And I won’t be able to help if you get in my way. Please go downstairs.”
She ground her teeth and rattled away. Bomanz sighed. That was close. If she had seen Stance and Glory...
The uproar redoubled. Men screamed. Bomanz heard Corporal Husky bellowing orders. He turned to the bowl. Tokar had disappeared. He could not relocate the man. In passing he surveyed the land between the town and the Barrowland. A few Resurrectionists were rushing toward the fighting, apparently to help. Others were in headlong flight. Remnants of the Guard were in pursuit.
Boots pounded upstairs. Again Bomanz interrupted the preparation of his sending. Husky appeared in the doorway. Bomanz started to order him out. He was in no mood to argue. He swung a great bloody sword...
Bomanz used the word of power. Again a man’s bones turned to jelly. Then again and again as Husky’s troopers tried to avenge him. Bomanz dropped four before the rush ended.
He tried to get back to his sending...
This time the interruption was nothing physical. It was a reverberation along the pathway he had opened into the Lady’s crypt. Tokar was on the Great Barrow and in contact with the creature it contained.
“Too late,” he murmured. “Too damned late.” But he made the sending anyway. Maybe Tokar would die before he could release those monsters.
Jasmine cursed. Snoopy screamed. Bomanz piled over the fallen Guardsmen and charged downstairs. Snoopy screamed again.
Bo entered his bedroom. One of Tokar’s men held a knife across Jasmine’s throat. A pair of Guardsmen sought an opening.
Bomanz had no patience left. He killed all three. The house rattled. Teacups clinked in the kitchen. It was a gentle tremor, but a harbinger strong enough to warn Bomanz. His sending had not arrived in time. Resigned, he said, “Get out of the house. There’s igoing to be a quake.”
Jasmine looked at him askance. She held the hysterical girl.
“I’ll explain later. If we survive. Just get out of the house.” He whirled and dashed into the street, charged toward the Barrowland.
Imagining himself tall and lean and fleet did no good now. He was Bomanz in the flesh, a short, fat old man easily winded. He fell twice as tremors shook the town. Each was stronger than the last.
The fires still burned, but the fighting had died away. The survivors on both sides knew it was too late for a decision of the sword. They stared toward the Barrowland, awaiting the unfolding of events.
Bomanz joined the watchers.
The comet burned so brightly the Barrowland was clearly illuminated.
A tremendous shock rattled the earth. Bomanz staggered. Out on the Barrowland the mound containing Soulcatcher exploded. A painful glow burned from within. A figure rose from the rubble, stood limned against the glow.
People prayed or cursed according to predilection.
The tremors continued. Barrow after barrow opened. One by one, the Ten Who Were Taken appeared against the night. “Tokar,” Bomanz murmured, “I hope you rot in Hell.”
There was only one chance left. One impossible chance. It rode on the time-bowed shoulders of a pudgy little man whose powers were not at their sharpest.
He marshaled his most potent spells, his greatest magicks, all the mystical tricks he had worked out during thirty-seven years worth of lonely nights. And he started walking toward the Barrowland.
Hands reached out to detain him. They found no purchase. From the crowd an old woman called, “Bo, no! Please!”
He kept walking.
The Barrowland seethed. Ghosts howled among the ruins. The Great Barrow shook its hump. Earth exploded upward, flaming. A great winged serpent rose against the night. A great scream poured from its mouth. Torrents of dragonfire inundated the Barrowland.
Wise green eyes watched Bomanz’s progress.
The fat little man walked into the holocaust, unleashing his arsenal of spells. Fire enveloped him.
Thirty-Five
The Barrowland, from bad to worse
Returning Raven’s letter to the oilskin, I lay back on my bough bed, let my mind go blank. So dramatic, the way Raven told it. I wondered about his sources, though. The wife? Someone had to note the tale’s ending and had to hide what was found later. What had become of the wife, anyway? She has no place in legend. Neither does the son, for that matter. The popular stories mention only Bomanz himself.
Something there, though. Something I missed? Ah. Yes. A congruence with personal experience. The name Bomanz had relied upon. The one that, evidently, proved insufficiently powerful.
I’d heard it before. In equally furious circumstances.
In Juniper, as the contest between the Lady and the Dominator neared its climax, with her ensconced in a castle on one side of the city and the Dominator trying to escape through another on the far side, we discovered the Taken meant to do the Company evil once the crisis subsided. Under orders from the Captain we deserted. We seized a ship. As we sailed away, with husband and wife contesting above the burning city, the struggle peaked. The Lady proved the stronger.
The voice of the Dominator shook the world as he vented a last spate of frustration. He had called her by the name Bomanz had thought puissant. Apparently, even the Dominator could be mistaken.
One sister killed another and, maybe or maybe not, took her place. Soulcatcher, our one-time mentor and plotter to usurp the Lady, it proved during the great struggle at Charm, was another sister. Three sisters, then. At least. One named Ardath, but evidently not the one who became the Lady.
Maybe the beginnings of something here. All those lists, back in the Hole. And the genealogies. Find a woman named Ardath. Then discover who her sisters were.
“It’s a beginning,” I murmured. “Feeble, but a beginning.”
“What?”
I had forgotten Case. He had not taken advantage. I suppose he was too frightened.
“Nothing.” It had grown dark outside. The drizzle persisted. Out on the Barrowland ghostly lights drifted about. I shuddered. That did not seem right. I wondered how Goblin and One-Eye were getting on. I did not dare go ask. Over in a corner Tracker snored softly. Toadkiller Dog lay against his belly, making sleeping dog noises, but I caught a glint of eye which said he was not unalert.
I invested a little more attention in Case. He was shaking, and not just with the chill. He was sure we would kill him. I reached over, rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, son. You won’t be harmed. We owe you for looking out for Raven.”
“He’s really Raven? The Raven that was the White Rose’s father?”
The lad knew the legends. “Yeah. Foster-father, though.”
“Then he didn’t lie about everything. He was in the Forsberg campaigns.”
That struck me as humorous. I chuckled, then said, “Knowing Raven, he didn’t lie about much. Just edited the truth.”
“You’ll really let me go?”
“When we’re safe.”
“Oh.” He did not sound reassured.
“Let’s say when we get to the edge of the Plain of Fear. You’ll find plenty of friends out there.”
He wanted to get into a quasi-political discussion about why we insisted on resisting the Lady. I refused. I am no evangelist. I can’t make converts. I have too much trouble understanding myself and unravelling my own motives. Maybe Raven could explain after Goblin and One-Eye brought him out.