The Emerald Scepter soa-3

by Thomas M. Reid

  Xaphira paused in her attempt to try to hoist up Lobra. "Who? What?"

  "Pilos Darowdryn," Emriana explained as they got the unconscious woman between them and began shuffling their way toward the doorway leading out onto the balcony. "He came with me to the Generon to save you. I don't know what happened to him."

  "And how did you manage to enlist the aid of a Darowdryn?" Xaphira asked as they maneuvered out into the dark of night.

  "After Hetta died, and Grozier took over the house, I went to the Darowdryns for help."

  Xaphira nearly dropped Lobra. "Mother's dead?" she asked, her voice meek, and Emriana could see the woman shivering.

  You're an idiot! Emriana screamed at herself. "Not exactly," she said hastily, "but she's in a ring, which-oh, no! The ring!" The girl nearly dropped Lobra then, realizing she had been separated from her grandmother. "Oh, no," she said again, feeling despair wash over her once more. "I lost her, Xaphira. I lost Hetta."

  "Shh," Xaphira said, and Emriana thought she was trying to comfort her, to tell her it was all right. In the next moment, though, the woman crouched down into the shadows, and Emriana did likewise just as a patrol of House guards stalked past below the balcony. It was not the casual sauntering Emriana was accustomed to seeing in House Matrell guards.

  "They don't look happy," Emriana said once the soldiers had passed.

  "I guess not, after everything that happened tonight," Xaphira said. "If I say run, you let go of Lobra and go as fast as you can. Do you understand me? Don't look back, just run for safety."

  "All right," Emriana said, knowing her aunt was suggesting that they might get separated. Not on your life, she thought silently. Never again.

  Once they were certain the guards had moved out of earshot, they started down the steps of the balcony, hauling their still-unconscious prisoner between them.

  CHAPTER 8

  Horial landed hard on his back, and though the ground was soft and spongy beneath him, the sudden appearance of Edilus directly above him made the mercenary's journey through the magical portal a painful one. As the druid collapsed on top of the sergeant, the weight of both of them together drove Horial down hard against the earth, and the arrow still rammed in his shoulder sank deeper into his flesh. The sergeant gasped and barely refrained from crying out fully.

  "By the gods," he groaned, panting. "Get off me," he pleaded, pushing at Edilus with his good arm.

  The druid scrambled off Horial and stood, muttering in that language the sergeant had heard the Enclave use back in the Nunwood. It sounded like Edilus was cursing.

  "You two be quiet!" Adyan hissed from nearby, his drawl exaggerated with his insistence. "You want to draw the entire Generon down on us?"

  Horial groaned again and tried to sit up, but Edilus was there in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic. "Why, you traitorous wolf? Why did you bring me through the portal with you?"

  Horial stared at the man, his mouth agape. "Why? Because those soldiers were going to kill you!" he hissed. "If you want to die so badly, then go back!"

  Edilus swore again softly. "I would if it were possible, but it is not! The passage conveys those who use it in one direction only! I cannot return!"

  "You hate us so much you'd rather die than come with us?" Horial demanded, controlling his voice only a little more than before. "I saved your life. Maybe some day, you'll get back to your precious forest and do something worthwhile with what's left of it." And with that, he grabbed Edilus's hand, the one still clutching at his tunic, and slung it off.

  "I'm not kidding!" Adyan said, his voice also a whisper. "We're smack in the middle of the Generon grounds, and they will hear you if you don't quiet down!"

  Horial could see the scar along Adyan's chin glowing faintly in the moonlight. It was twitching from the other man's agitation.

  Grolo, sitting nearby, said, "He's right. You two are making enough noise to draw the whole city watch here."

  Horial glared at his companions, disliking the rebukes while he was in the middle of a good fight, but he realized the wisdom of their words. Finally, he said to Edilus in a whisper, "Like it or not, you're here with us, and unless you want to ruin what all of your brethren-and my other soldiers-just died to help make happen, let's save this argument for later."

  Edilus stood very still, staring at Horial for a long moment as if thinking. Finally, the druid nodded. "I will help you as I can," he said, "because Shinthala believed you had a purpose that did not cross us. But my aid will not include anything that would harm my people in some way."

  Horial spread his hands in acceptance and said, "None of us would expect any less of you. And so you understand, I grieve for your brethren as much as I do for my own soldiers." He tried to roll over onto his side, but the arrow embedded in his knee would not allow it. Wincing as he jarred it, Horial sank back to the ground in pain.

  "Let me see your injuries," Edilus said, kneeling next to his counterpart. "I may be able to tend them."

  Horial nodded and tried to sit still while the druid worked on him, several times stifling cries of pain as Edilus's touch became too ambitious. As he waited, the sergeant tried to get his bearings.

  The group had arrived in a lush garden, and in fact, the portal that had delivered them there seemed be anchored to an overgrown archway that formed a lopsided arbor. It looked very old and neglected, and thick vines and shrubs had completely enclosed it on every side, providing a welcome screen of camouflage for the four of them. Though he could not distinctly remember seeing the location before, something about the place convinced Horial that Adyan was correct. They were on the grounds of the Generon.

  "Why does this look familiar?" he asked, looking over at Adyan, who was just returning from a quick foray into the underbrush to scout. "Have you been here before?"

  "You don't remember?' the other man asked softly, squatting down beside Horial.

  Horial shook his head. "It reminds me of something, but…" Whatever memories were hidden away were giving him an uneasy feeling.

  "It was a long time ago," Adyan drawled, sounding pensive. "Vambran was with us."

  Horial looked at his friend, remembering it all. "That night," he breathed. "The plantains."

  Adyan nodded. "Yes. The plantain trees are just that way," and he pointed in the near-darkness, "and the pond where we found-" he stopped himself then, pointing but not finishing the thought.

  "Of all the ridiculous luck," Horial said, bracing himself as Edilus took hold of the first arrow, the one in his knee. When the druid jerked the missile out, Horial had to clench his teeth to keep from yelling. "How did Tymora see fit to drop us right here?" he asked after he got his breath back.

  Edilus handed the sergeant a little leather pouch. "Eat it," he said, moving around to Horial's shoulder.

  Opening the pouch, the sergeant could see something gray and moist inside. It did not look tasty. As Edilus took hold of the second arrow, Horial tipped the pouch back and let the contents slide down his throat. The mixture tasted sour, but he did not have long to reflect on it, for Edilus yanked hard.

  Horial squeezed his eyes shut to deal with the burning pain, but whatever Edilus had given him warmed his body and eased the discomfort. He suspected it might have been some druidic variation of a temple-issue healing potion. Soon, his wounds had closed and he felt good enough to walk. He climbed to his feet and peered around.

  "So," Horial asked of no one in particular, "which is the fastest way out of here?"

  "Through the front gates," Adyan said.

  "Yes, I'm sure that the guards won't bat an eye as three members of the Sapphire Crescents and a fellow from the distant woods go strolling past with no explanation of how they came to be on the grounds," Horial said wryly. "That's not one of your better plans."

  "I'm serious," Adyan replied. "We might look a little odd, but tonight's Sammardach. Next to Spheres and the Night of Ghosts, it's one of the biggest parties of the season. Why shouldn't we be visiting the Ge
neron tonight?"

  "Sammardach," Horial said, musing. "That just might work," he agreed. "Though it's pretty late to still be here."

  Adyan shrugged. "We got to drinking with some stable hands," he offered, "or we got lost in the gardens and had to find our way out. Sounds reasonable to me. The palace is huge, after all."

  Horial shrugged, too. "Let's do it," he said.

  Grolo snorted. "What was that you were saying about Tymora?" he muttered as the four of them began to push through the bushes, forcing their way out from the forgotten arbor.

  "I was saying," Horial answered, shoving aside a low-hanging branch dripping with moisture, "that we ought to remember to drop a coin in her fountain next time we pass by. And I thought we were done tromping through wet bushes in the middle of the night," he added, drawing a soft, if brief, chuckle from the rest of the Crescents.

  It did not take them long to break through onto open ground. Once they were visible, the group began to stroll casually, trying to look as if they had just been meandering through the grounds of the palace, minding their own business at the party. A couple of times, Horial suggested to Edilus that it wasn't necessary to prowl, but the druid couldn't quite grasp the concept of acting natural.

  Or rather, Horial realized, he's acting as naturally as he knows how. He's probably never been to a city before.

  Indeed, as Horial watched, Edilus stared about in wonder and amazement at the grand edifice known as the Generon. More than once, the sergeant thought he saw the druid shake his head in dismay or heard him mutter some unintelligible expletive, but otherwise, Edilus seemed able to keep calm.

  The foursome made its way across the grounds and along the paths toward the front of the palace, where the gates stood, and Adyan began to whistle a cheerful tune as they walked. They spotted a guard or two along the way, and both times they were given careful scrutiny, but no one challenged them.

  Before long, the gates came into view at the end of a long path that wound its way toward the bottom of the hill, and it seemed that the group was in the clear. Horial actually sighed in mild relief, thankful for the small favors of both Waukeen and Tymora, when Edilus suddenly stopped and cocked his head as if listening.

  "What is it?" Grolo asked, stopping beside the druid. "What's wrong with you?"

  In answer, Edilus darted off the pathway and into the nearby bushes, disappearing into the undergrowth.

  "What the-?" Horial groaned, and he dashed after the druid. "Edilus, no! We can't go that way!" As he neared the spot where Edilus had vanished, though, he heard a grunt and a sudden rustling, and someone gave a muffled shout.

  Eternal damnation, Horial thought, grabbing for his blade as he carefully shoved through the outer layer of foliage. What's he unearthed in there?

  There was another muted shout, and someone cursed, a string of expletives favored among mercenaries. Horial swore in return and pushed deeper into the greenery, aware that Adyan was right behind him. He spotted a break in the growth ahead of him and detected movement, so he forced a path that way, stumbling through just as Edilus popped up on the other side, yanking another figure along with him. The druid shoved the figure forward and Horial was startled to see a second form down on the ground, a man who was rubbing his head gingerly. As the first one dropped down beside the second, Horial noted that he was dressed as a Waukeenar, an Abreeant, in fact.

  "Ow!" the figure cried as he landed on his hands and knees. "By Brightwater, you're strong!" he said, rubbing his wrist where Edilus had gripped him. Then the Abreeant looked up at Horial with a look of both recognition and concern upon his face. "Who are you?" the priest asked, a fellow a few years younger than the sergeant. He sounded fearful.

  Instead of answering the priest, Horial turned on Edilus. "What the blazes are you doing?" he demanded. "We were almost to the gate!"

  "I could smell these two hiding in here," the druid replied. "And I suspected they were doing something untoward."

  Horial had to clench his hands together to keep from reaching up to grab the druid by his collar. "First of all, it's none of our business why they are hiding in here. We were hiding in the bushes a few moments ago, too, remember?" When the druid merely scowled, Horial continued. "And second of all, even if they are up to no good, it's not our fight tonight. We have more important things to deal with."

  "Horial?" the young priest asked, startling the sergeant out of his admonition.

  The mercenary looked down, surprised. "Do I know you?"

  The Abreeant shook his head. "No, but I'm in contact with someone who knows you, and she's very glad to see you. You know Hetta Matrell?"

  Horial nearly choked, then he sank down and pressed his finger against his mouth, signaling for the younger man to speak quietly. "Gods and demons, boy! How in the Nine Hells do you know Hetta Matrell?" he asked in a near-whisper.

  The young man might have smiled, though it was hard for Horial to be sure in the dim light. "That's a very long story, but suffice it to say that we're on the same side tonight."

  Horial's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're speaking straight with me?" he demanded.

  The Abreeant didn't reply for a long moment, and he said, "Hetta tells me to remind you of all the times she had to swat your fanny for crushing her hoplilies when you, Adyan, and Vambran would use her garden wall as a shortcut."

  Horial stood there for a long moment, stunned. No one but Hetta, Adyan, and Vambran himself would have remembered something from his childhood.

  He threw his head back then and just laughed, and Adyan was chortling too, right beside him. He tried to keep his laughter quiet, and for the most part he succeeded, but the whole situation was too comical for him to control his mirth. Finally, wiping a tear from his cheek, Horial caught his breath. "You sold me," he said, still chuckling. "Where is darling Hetta?"

  At that question, the Abreeant seemed to wilt slightly. He held out his hand, offering something to Horial. The sergeant caught a glint of red, and he reached out and clutched at a jeweled ring.

  Well, you're a fine sight, Horial Rohden. Where is Vambran?

  Horial nearly dropped the ring. Grandmother Hetta? he asked, unsure of where the voice was coming from. Are you at House Matrell? Vambran said you were in trouble.

  Yes, trouble is the short way to sum it up, Hetta's voice replied. And no, I'm not at the house. I'm in here. Now where's Vambran?

  Horial stared at the ring in the moonlight, aghast. He is still in Reth, trying to save the rest of the men, the sergeant answered. He sent us back to help Emriana after she called to him.

  Well, good, Hetta said, and relief radiated from the disembodied voice. Pilos and Quill need your help. There's too much to explain right now, but Emriana and Xaphira are in trouble. We all have to get out of the Generon, and quickly, before Junce and the palace guards catch us. Can you help them?

  Horial nodded, then thought, That's why Vambran sent us back here, Grandmother Hetta. Just tell us what you need.

  Pilos will explain it all to you. For now, just pass me back to him. Oh, and Horial?

  Yes?

  Thank you for coming. You and Adyan are both good men, and Vambran is lucky to have you as friends.

  Horial grinned as he handed the ring back to the young priest. "All right," he said, turning to look at everyone in turn. "Hetta says we've got to get out of here. Pilos?" he said, looking at the priest. When the Abreeant nodded, Horial said, "Tonight we're at your disposal." He made quick introductions and they set out, and he noted that the first pink light of morning was beginning to brighten the eastern sky. Their intentions were to proceed as before, strolling toward the front gates and out as though they didn't have a care in the world.

  That plan lasted for perhaps ten paces before someone began to shout from a distance.

  Horial spun around to see a contingent of Generon guards running toward them. When he turned back, a second collection of soldiers was assuming a formation to block the way out.

  "I guess they kno
w we're here," the sergeant said.

  They ran.

  The sun was well above the horizon when Arbeenok woke Vambran. The lieutenant felt refreshed and immediately got to his feet, but Elenthia groaned and coughed. Arbeenok frowned and pulled the mercenary aside. "She is too weak to go with us," he said. "My magic is holding, but the disease has still taken most of her strength."

  Vambran nodded. "Then we take her to her father before we depart," he said.

  Arbeenok shook his head. "No. She is a carrier. She will infect those around her, even though she is not growing sicker. Do you see?"

  Vambran rocked back on his heels, then, understanding at last. He looked over at Elenthia, who was staring at both of them as they whispered together, shifting her gaze back and forth, worried. She knew they were speaking of her. "We'll find you a safe place," the mercenary said.

  Elenthia's eyes widened in fear. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?" she asked, a nervous edge to her voice. She didn't really want the answer to her question. "You can't leave me here!" The exertion brought on a coughing fit, and she doubled up in pain.

  Vambran dropped down beside her and held her, then held a water skin to her mouth, waiting for her to drink when she was able. Finally, after she had caught her breath, he said, "You'll be all right. You're strong. If you don't let all the scheming society folk get the best of you, you won't let this beat you, either." He smiled at her kindly. Inside, he was in agony. How can I do this to her? I left my men behind, too.

  Elenthia understood his little jest, though, and a faint smile played across her face. "You always know just the right thing to say to a girl," she said. Then her face turned a bit stony. "Even if you do cavort with druid women," she said, giving the lieutenant a ferocious glare.

  Vambran started at her comment, then glanced up at Arbeenok, who was looking on as though he had no idea what the discussion was about. When Vambran looked back at Elenthia, he could see the faintest of smiles curling at the corners of her mouth. He rolled his eyes at her and gave her a reassuring pat, then looked at Arbeenok. "Is there anything else you need to do?" he asked, not wanting to delay the departure any more than necessary.