Bronwyn did not stay to see the outcome. She put Cara down and took her hand. They edged around the chapel, hugging the walls and keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and the angry evil fire in the midst of the room. Once, a spray of purple sparks showered them. The skirt of Cara's dress began to smolder. Bronwyn dropped to her knees and beat out the tiny flames with her hands. To her relief, the child was not burned-only a few empty, brown-ringed holes marred the pink silk.
To her astonishment, this loss brought a tremble to the girl's lip. This, after all Cara had endured. "I will get you another," Bronwyn told her as she pulled her into a run.
The fire was dying now, and Algorind would not be far behind them. They dashed up the winding stone steps, and out onto the walkway that ringed the interior of the wall. Their way was clear, for all the Zhentarim had flooded down into the bailey to meet the dwarf invaders.
They ran toward the front gate tower, hoping to get to the horses. The dwarves had shut the door and barred it. There were but two horses outside the gate. If they could get to the horses, they could outrun the paladin.
But swift footsteps closed in and a heavy hand dropped on Bronwyn's shoulder. She huried her elbow back in a sharp jab and whirled after it. Stiffening her fingers, she went for his eyes.
The paladin was quick, and he dodged her jabbing attack. Her hand stabbed into his temple, and she changed tactics- spreading her fingers into raking claws and slashing down over his face.
Algorind had not expected his, and for one instant he fell back on his heels. Bronwyn looked around frantically for an escape.
The only way was down. The roofs of the small interior buildings were neatly thatched, and they slanted sharply down. It was the best she could do.
"Jump," she told Cara, then hurled herself onto the roof, never once doubting that the girl would follow.
They slid on their backsides down the low-hanging eaves and leaped out into the bailey. Bronwyn ran for the gate-house stairs, pulling Cara after her. She shot a look over her shoulder and stopped dead.
A young dwarf had stepped into Algorind's path, his axe raised and his beardless face set in determination. The paladin never slowed. He cut the lad down with a swift, terrible blow and kept coming.
Bronwyn squeezed her eyes shut to force back the wave of pain and indecision. She could not leave the dwarves here to deal with this man. He was too skilled, too determined. The dwarves were just as stubborn, and they wouldn't give up until Algorind lay dead.
Inspiration struck. She reversed direction, zigzagging across the bailey toward the siege tower. On the way, she cuffed Ebenezer's head. He glanced at her, which earned him a thudding blow from the staff of the man he was fighting.
"Bar the door behind!" she shouted, and then she dragged Cara through the open door of the Fenrisbane.
Bronwyn looked around the siege tower. The inside was vast and equipped with many weapons: piles of spears, swords, barrels full of quarrels. None of these, not in her hands at least, would be sufficient to stop the determined paladin from fulfilling his quest.
She looked up. The interior was a maze of scaffolding, leading up to a second floor and beyond. She hoisted Cara up onto a crate. "Can you climb?"
"Like a squirrel," the girl said somberly. She kilted up her ruined skirt and then proceeded to prove her claim.
Bronwyn came after her, hauling herself up from one timber to another. She knew with absolute certainty the moment when they were no longer alone in the tower.
"Faster," she urged Cara. "He's still coming."
The girl scampered up with an agility that Bronwyn duplicated only through sheer force of will. Algorind came after them, slowly gaining.
But they were almost to the top. Almost cleat Bronwyn put her shoulder to the hatch and pushed.
Nothing.
She tried again, hurling herself at the door and almost losing her balance. "It's barred," she said in despair.
Cara, however, was not listening. The little girl stared intently at the wooden door, on the side opposite the hinges. The wood began to smolder and then burst into flame.
"Try again," she advised, her voice pale from the effort of holding the casting.
But Bronwyn could not get close enough without setting herself afire. She backed off a foot or two and got a firm grip on one of the crossbeams. She let her feet drop and rocked back and forth as she hung over the rapidly advancing paladin. Mustering all her strength, she swung up both feet high over her head and kicked at the burning door.
The hatch flew open. Instantly, Cara released the enchantment and the flames disappeared. Bronwyn worked her way back, hand over hand, and pushed the girl up to the platform, then rolled out herself
She slammed the ruined door down and looked for something to bar it. Cara snatched up a ballista bolt, staggering under its weight. Together, they worked it through the iron latch handles.
The door bounced and heaved as the paladin tried to fight his way through. Bronwyn doubted that the charred boards would hold for long. She snatched the three rings from their slots and thrust them onto her hands.
"Come on!" she said, and took off down the ramp at a run. The tower shrank swiftly, sending the ground hurtling up to meet them. The crossbars that gave footing on the ramp were compressed, moving together. Bronwyn misjudged the distance and caught her toe in one of the bars.
She fell forward and went into an uncontrollable roll. The fall was mercifully brief; the landing, less merciful. Bronwyn slammed into the ground, rolled, and came to a stop with a clank of metal. When her vision cleared, she found herself looking into the fixed, staring eyes of a slain Zhentilar soldier. The plate armor that covered his chest had been deeply dented by a dwarven axe.
Bronwyn shuddered and shrank back. Strong hands seized her and dragged her to her feet, held her until her world stopped whirling.
Her eyes settled upon Ebenezer's broadly grinning face. "That was good thinking on your part," he said, nodding to the tiny siege tower standing in the courtyard. "Though I don't envy that human much, getting shrunk like that. Makes magical travel feel like a foot massage, I'm telling you that for free."
She reached out to give the dwarf an affectionate cufl then changed her mind and simply fell into his arms. His grip tightened around her, squeezed with gentle strength, and then he let her go.
Ebenezer cleared his throat and stepped back, turning his attention pointedly to matters elsewhere in the fortress.
Cara came to stand at his side, the Fenrisbane in her hands. She had torn a strip from her ruined gown, and securely tied it around the tower to hold the hatch in place.
The dwarf nodded to the tower. "What you fixing to do with him, now that you got him all boxed and gift-wrapped?"
Bronwyn hadn't thought that far, but the answer came to her. "I'm going to turn the tower over to Khelben Arunsun. Secretiy. It will be secure in Blackstaff Tower, especially if no one knows it's there."
"Think you can trust him?"
"On this matter, yes," she said shortly. "Whatever else Khelben Arunsun might be, he is no warmonger looking for conquest. And he doesn't look kindly on those who fit that description. He'll keep the tower secure."
"Well, that's fine, then." The dwarf looked wistfully at the siege tower. "Before you do that, lemme give the thing a good long, hard shake, or at least drop it from a high place."
Bronwyn grimaced, finding herself in sympathy with the dwarfs sentiment. "Algorind is defeated. I can't kill him now."
Ebenezer sighed. "I suppose not. Let the wizard deal with him."
"Khelben is the least of Algorind's concerns," Bronwyn said with sudden certainty. She remembered the look in the paladin's eyes when he spoke of the price of failure. As to that, she could do nothing. He had chosen this life, and he would be paid in the wages of his own choice.