Behind the barricade, the Federation soldiers still standing had recovered enough to try to stop them. A handful had converged on the only weapon still available to them in the wake of the initial raking of the wall, a rail sling situated on the far left of the barricade. Bombax, focused on his efforts to surmount the barricade, nevertheless saw them. Without leaving the pilot box, he summoned the Druid Fire and sent it hurtling into the soldiers and their weapon. Both vanished in a cloud of debris and smoke.
But with his attention momentarily diverted, he missed seeing the Federation soldiers atop the Outer Wall who were now alerted to his presence and scrambling to ready a fire launcher on the battlements directly across from him. As Arrow sailed over the top of the makeshift barricade, the men manning the fire launcher fired it point-blank at Arrow. An explosion of fire flew right where Bombax was standing at the controls and the pilot box simply disintegrated.
Aphen screamed and surged to her feet, Arling clinging tenaciously to one arm, trying to pull her back down again.
For a second the air was so clouded and thick with debris and smoke that it was impossible to tell anything. Aboard Wend-A-Way, Cymrian had abandoned the pilot box to man her starboard rail slings, turning them on the Federation soldiers at the fire launcher on the battlements of the Outer Wall. It only took a single shot to smash them both. Then he was back in the pilot box, easing Wend-A-Way forward to where he, too, disappeared into the roiling cloud left by the hit Arrow had taken.
As Aphenglow struggled in Arling’s grip, Arrow surged back into view, a stricken wreck with her controls gone and her mainsail shredded. At first she couldn’t find any trace of Bombax, but then Arling screamed out his name and pointed. The Druid was clinging to what was left of the mainmast, bloodied and dazed, holding himself upright by what appeared to be sheer determination. Arrow dropped toward the rampway, listing and on fire, struck hard enough to shatter the keel, and slid forward toward the barred doors to the Keep and the defenders hiding behind them.
Aphenglow and Arlingfant abandoned their observation post, rushing back inside, out into the hallway and down the stairs as fast as they could manage. When they reached the lower hallway where they had left Woostra and the Trolls, they found everything in chaos. The doors leading in from the landing platform ramp had been smashed in; Arrow’s bow jutted through the opening, charred and still smoking. Wend-A-Way was parked midair to the ruined vessel’s port side, using Arrow as a shield to protect it from the masses of Federation soldiers gathering on the battlements of the Outer Wall while the Keep’s defenders loaded the wounded and then scrambled aboard themselves. Rail slings and fire launchers were being turned on Wend-A-Way and her passengers, but none of them had been mounted where they could do much damage and there was no time to move them. Clouds of smoke from Arrow’s burning wreck made it more difficult still to see clearly what was happening.
Aphenglow searched frantically for Bombax, unable to find him. But then Cymrian appeared beside her, caught her arm, and shouted that Krolling had carried the big Druid off Arrow and put him aboard Wend-A-Way and she must board, as well. Right now.
Minutes later the entire company of defenders had gained the decks of Wend-A-Way, and the airship was lifting off and turning north for the safety of night’s concealing darkness.
Drust Chazhul had ordered Federation army commander Tinnen March to dispatch every soldier under his newly designated command to the landing platform in an attempt to stop the Druid escape, but the effort had failed. Flits had given pursuit, but with night settled in there wasn’t much reason to hope they could do anything. The Federation ships still weren’t able to fly and fight, so there was nothing to do but let the Keep’s defenders go their way.
At least, he told himself, somehow managing to keep his burgeoning rage and frustration in check, he had control of Paranor and whatever treasures it hid.
Stoon, standing at his side, warned him that it would be wise not to go in himself until his soldiers had been able to make certain it was safe. There was nothing to say the Druids hadn’t left traps for the foolish and unwary.
Reluctantly, Drust had agreed. He would have his chance soon enough. He would loot the fortress of her treasures, of talismans and artifacts, of histories and records, of all things Druid, and then he would tear it down. It might take some time, but he would use every soldier available to him and when he was finished there would be nothing left for those who had escaped him to come back to. He would raze the Druid’s Keep down to its foundations and obliterate all traces of the Druid order.
He would put an end to magic’s greatest stronghold and then begin the task of cleaning up whatever remnants might have been left behind.
“Once Paranor is destroyed, there will be time enough to hunt down the rest of the Druids and put an end to them for good. Then all the other magic users, as well.” Drust gave his companion a smile. “I’ll be appointed Prime Minister for life after that.”
They stood together in the darkness on the Outer Wall ramparts and watched as Federation soldiers poured into the Keep through the smashed doors off the airfield ramp. Arrow was no longer burning, her blackened hull crumbling and still.
Drust was about to comment on his plans for the remaining Druid airships when he saw a strange greenish glow seeping through cracks and crevices in the doors and windows of the lower levels of the Keep.
“What do you think that is?” he muttered. Stoon shook his head, watching silently.
The glow began to climb upward, infiltrating the Keep floor by floor. Within the tower walls, men began to scream in terror. Those not yet inside hesitated and then quickly fell back. The light had begun to pulse, as if it were reacting to the screams.
“Get those men out of there,” Stoon told Drust.
But Drust was unable to do anything except stand and watch, fascinated by what was happening. The greenish light was flooding the rooms and passageways of the Keep, and the screams of the men inside were intensifying. Men appeared on the ramparts and balconies and at windows, thrashing and flailing as clouds of mist enveloped them. Some, driven into a frenzy, began throwing themselves off. They fought and clawed and shrieked as the mist attacked them. Those who tried to escape their fate failed to do so. Those who tried to push past simply disappeared. The green mist filled the Keep from basement to tower pinnacles, and everything in between was consumed.
Those Federation soldiers still outside were fleeing for the gates of the Outer Wall, not even bothering to listen to the orders shouted at them by their superiors to stand their ground or make a disciplined retreat. Tendrils of the mist snaked along the ground in pursuit, snatching the fleeing men off their feet and dragging them back inside the Keep.
Not too far from where he stood, Drust watched as Tinnen March scrambled down the stairs of the wall and ran with them.
“We have to get out of here,” Stoon declared, grabbing Drust Chazhul’s arm and dragging him away.
They clambered down the steps to the courtyard and ducked inside a hallway leading to one of the smaller exit doors. Drust was so badly shaken it didn’t even occur to him to argue. He let himself be led like a child down the corridor and back outside, then across the barren stretch of clear-cut and into the trees beyond.