The fighting abruptly stopped as a large draconic head appeared in the door. The Tarmaks and humans alike gaped in surprise. The dragon inhaled, and the humans and elves dropped to the floor. A brilliant white light shot down the hall and exploded on the Tarmaks. Once, twice, and again Crucible fired his breath weapon over the heads of the attackers, wiping out clusters of Tarmak warriors and priests. Smoke curled from the walls and the hall filled with the stench of burning wood, scorched stone, and cooked flesh. The hallway became silent.
More of Linsha’s men ran in the door. “The guards are dead outside,” a Legionnaire reported.
“Let’s get the eggs,” she said tersely. “Lanther is coming.” She caught Hugh staring at Crucible’s form just outside the portico.
“Where did he come from?” the knight asked in astonishment.
She just laughed, a sharp, edgy sound of tense humor. “I’ll tell you later.”
The company of egg hunters continued through the building to the stairs that led down to the vault. More Tarmaks attacked them, but there were very few warriors left, and those were disorganized and scattered. The Legionnaires and the few militiamen spread out to find the remaining guards while Linsha and her group hurried downstairs. They entered a stone hallway and found the way barred by half a dozen Keena priests. The black-robed Keenas held round bucklers and short swords.
This would be good time for some of Afec’s sleeping powder, Linsha thought. Without that, they would just have to do it the hard way.
“Back away!” she yelled down the stairs. “All we want are the eggs!”
A priest yelled something back that Linsha did not have to translate to the others.
The elves fired a barrage of arrows down the steps that wounded a priest, killed another, and scattered the rest. Under cover of the arrows, Linsha and her men charged down the stairs. The remaining priests fought zealously, but they were outnumbered by the ferocious rebels. The fighting was hard and bitter in such close quarters, and when it was over the priests and four of Linsha’s company were dead.
Cursing, she plunged her sword into the throat of the last priest and stepped over his body. She drew out of the key and thrust it into the lock, praying it would work. It did. The key turned, the lock opened, and the door swung open. A wave of heat washed over her. She caught a glimpse of firelight and glowing braziers when a hand reached through the door and grabbed her sword arm. A second hand clamped to her face and wrenched her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.
Pain exploded in her head.
19
Eggs in One Basket
Linsha gasped, her head reeling. Tie pain seared through her, shaking her resolve and stoking her fear. She tried to see who was speaking to her, but her vision was blurred and unsteady. All she could see was yellow light and a dark arm extending away from her. Sweat poured down her face and into her eyes, making her vision worse.
“I am Shurnasir, Priest of the White Flame and guardian of the dragon eggs,” a voice snarled at her. “Who are you that you dare disturb the peace of this sacred place?”
She gritted her teeth and fought back her fear. This was not Lanther. This was a mere priest, a second rate Tarmak, and like the Keena at the imperial palace, this priest did not have the same skill or strength that either Akkad had shown. The pain ebbed a little. Perhaps Afec’s belt was interfering with the magic that pounded at her head. Linsha did not know why the pain would be abating, and at that moment she did not care. She forced her hand upward to the three dragon scales that hung around her neck. They were heavy and sometimes irritating to her skin, but never had she been more grateful for them. She focused on the inherent power within each one and drew it forth, leeching out the magic of three different dragons.
“I am the Drathkin’kela and those eggs are mine!” she croaked.
Her other hand dropped the sword and clamped around the priest’s wrist. His eyes opened wide with surprise. His spell snapped and he fell back, crying with pain. She held onto him, bending his hand back in an unnatural angle, forcing him to his knees. Her green eyes turned to flint.
“How many eggs are here?” she snapped.
His face screwed up in agony and his reddish skin turned pale. “Nine,” he croaked. “The Akkad-Dar took two with him.”
“That bastard,” she swore, unconsciously putting more pressure on the priest. Something snapped. He moaned and flopped to his side. Linsha let him go, for at that moment she noticed the eggs. “They’re different! These are darker and duller,” she said. “Where are the brass eggs?”
She hauled the priest to his feet again and shoved him close to a hot brazier that glowed under a metal tray containing a layer of sand and one egg.
“We’ve been treating them,” the priest admitted. His eyes rolled back to see the brazier and his hands plucked nervously at her wrists.
“Treating them? Treating them with what?”
There was a tremendous shout in the corridor and the door slammed open. Sir Hugh and the rebels charged in prepared to rescue Linsha. When they saw her, her expression fearsome and her prisoner well in hand, they skidded to a halt in relief and surprise.
“What have you been treating them with?” Linsha repeated. She glanced at the soldiers around her and nodded. Several hurried away.
“I don’t know,” the priest gabbled. “A mixture the Akkad-Dar gave us.”
Linsha threw up her hands, shoving him aside. “Kill him,” she said to Sir Hugh. “He won’t cooperate.”
The knight drew back his sword to strike the priest, but Shurnasir cowered down. “All right! We’re treating the eggs with a special potion to make them hatch faster.”
Linsha couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that possible?” she asked the elves.
The four Qualinesti studied the eggs for a moment, looked at each other, and shrugged. “We have never heard of such a thing,” one said.
“But they do look as if they are ready to hatch,” commented the elder. “I have seen a clutch of brass eggs at this stage and they hatched within days.”
“Why would you do this?” Linsha demanded. “Those eggs aren’t supposed to hatch for years. You could be destroying the embryos.”
“Not so far,” the priest said, a touch of smugness creeping into his voice. “We have examined several the past few months, and their progress has been excellent.”
Linsha’s anger flared again. “Examined them!” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen your examinations. It’s a wonder there are any left at all! Why would you do this?”
He quailed back from her anger and the power he felt in her. “The Akkad-Dar wants them to hatch early so he can use them.”
“Use them for what?”
Sir Hugh glanced uneasily out the door and said, “Linsha, I think we need to take those eggs and go. If Lanther is really on his way, we don’t have much time.”
The reminder was like a bucket of cold water dashed on her head. Her temper cooled and reason returned. Her head still throbbed from the priest’s spell and her own surge of magic, but she knew Hugh was right. There was still much work to do. “Tie him up. We’ll let Lanther deal with him.”
The priest’s eyes grew huge, and he groaned. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. Two arrows struck him at the same time and sent him spinning to the floor.
Linsha nodded to the elves. “That was probably far kinder than anything Lanther would have done to him,” she said.
The company quickly got to work. Linsha found a pair of heavy gloves, and using those to lift the eggs from their hot nests, she placed them carefully on heavy wool blankets. The eggs were wrapped, put in thick feed sacks, and carried gently outside. When the last egg was removed, Linsha took a final look around the stone vault. Sir Hugh stood beside her, his face flushed as if with a fever.
“You know, you were rather scary,” he said. “I’ve never seen you that angry.”
“Dratted eggs,” she said, rubbing her aching temples. “They’re worse than childre
n.”
He laughed. “You’ll be a good mother.”
“The gods forbid,” she said, turning on her heel. “Those eggs aren’t supposed to hatch for years.”
She pulled the door behind her and just before it swung completely closed, she tossed the key inside.
“Those eggs will hatch in a matter of days,” Crucible snarled when Linsha stepped out the front door. “What happened to them?”
Linsha told him what the priest had said while she walked around the bundle of eggs. The three undercover Legionnaires had done a fine job, she noted. They had brought a large fishing net, as well as the blankets and bags, and while the eggs were being brought up they had spread the net out on the ground and piled on more blankets. Now the eggs were securely tied in a tight, warm bundle in the middle of the net, ready to be carried out.
Crucible grumbled at the Keenas’ unprecedented experiment, but there wasn’t much to be done about it except get the eggs away.
“Can you manage it?” Linsha asked, worried for his wings.
“Of course. They are not that heavy.”
They heard the clatter of hoofbeats and saw some of their centaurs come along the street with a string of horses. The elves and the men quickly mounted. Those too wounded to ride were loaded in the wagon with Callista. Mae stood beside the wagon, holding the horses’ reins.
She handed the reins to Sir Hugh and joined her two companions. “Good-bye!” she called. “Good luck.”
Linsha was startled. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No. We agreed. We’re staying here. We can help more in the city and gather better information this way. Tell Falaius we’re here, if he needs us.”
Linsha and Callista waved farewell just before the three Legionnaires disappeared into the mist and darkness.
“Let’s go!” Linsha called. She climbed onto the wagon seat beside Sir Hugh. The mounted men and elves, the centaurs, and the wagon headed north on a road that led into the Artisan’s District and eventually out of town.
Crucible waited until the horses were out of sight before he sprang aloft. Carefully he grabbed the net with his feet, lifted it above the roof line, and winged into the foggy night.
20
Run for the Hills
The Akkad-Dar stood at the threshold of the Treasurer’s Guild and frowned. Dead guards and priests lay slumped on the floor, on the front portico, and in the halls. Blood was everywhere. The front hall was a scorched mess, littered with burned debris and scattered bodies. Some of the bodies had been stripped of their cloaks, weapons, boots, or clothes, and several piles of tattered rags lay on the floor.
Lanther kicked one ragged tunic with his toe, knowing full well what it meant. Beside him, the city dekegul stood silently, making no excuses.
“So,” the Akkad-Dar said in a voice edged with steel, “the bronze dragon is still alive. Good. I can kill him myself.” He strode into the hall and worked his way through the mess to the stairs leading down to the vault. He knew what to expect, but he wanted to see for himself. The dekegul went with him. They walked down the stairs without saying a word and studied the devastation below.
“These priests were brave, I’ll give them that,” Lanther muttered. He stepped over the bodies and pushed open the door. The emptiness mocked him. The eggs were gone, every one of them. There were only empty trays and the body of his chief priest lying on the floor.
A small shape caught his eye and he leaned over to pick it up. It was the key he had given his wife on the day of their joining. A cold smile flicked across his face, and he pocketed the key for safekeeping. He would give her that key back soon, he vowed.
He turned around and nearly bumped into his silent officer. He cursed, about to raise his sword and behead the fool for falling for such a trick, but he paused and gave it some thought. “Be at ease,” he said at last. “Better men than you have been outwitted by that woman. Be responsible for her capture or the capture of the bronze dragon, and I will let you live with your honor. Fail and you may kill yourself.”
The dekegul nodded his appreciation for the second chance. They were very rare from the Akkad-Dar.
Lanther stalked back upstairs and went outside, away from the smells and the scenes of loss. By the graciousness of the Dark Queen, he prayed for vengeance on his stubborn, treacherous, perfidious wife and that vile dragon that held her affections in a way he had never been able to do. They couldn’t go far, he knew that. The eggs were heavy and had to be kept warm. They would have to find a place to keep the eggs safe until the hatching. And of course, there was the rebel army that was obligingly marching toward the Missing City. With the help of the Dark Queen, his beloved goddess, he would be able to rid the Plains of their army and rid himself of Crucible at the same time.
“Bring me the Abyssal Lance.”
“This isn’t good,” Linsha muttered beside Sir Hugh. She scanned the blackness on both sides and saw nothing. “This reminds me too much of the ambush when Sir Morrec was killed. All we need is the rain.” A cold, queasy feeling settled into her stomach at the memory of that night. She never wanted to repeat it in any manner.
“Are you thinking they will ambush us?” Hugh asked in a voice just above a whisper, while keeping his eyes on the draft horses pulling the wagon.
Although the fog, the late hour, and the fire in the warehouse district had served to cloak their escape, the Tarmaks were not completely lax. Several patrols had already attacked, and they had been forced to slow down and fight their way through the dark streets. They had finally entered the ruins of the North District where many of the streets and buildings had never been rebuilt and the old city wall still lay in ruinous disrepair. There were no lights in this part of the city, no torches or lamps or fires, only eerie shadows and the fogbound darkness of night. The wagon and its escort had to slow down even more to avoid injury to the horses. There was only one road that had been repaved and repaired to serve as a highway out of the city, but it was difficult to follow in the mist, and to either side lay treacherous sunken holes, half-buried foundations, and heaps of rubble.
“It’s possible,” Linsha replied. “There are surely warriors by the wall, even if the wall isn’t complete. The Tarmaks are fanatical about setting guards and keeping watch. They would have heard the warning horns, and they know this is one of the few roads out of the city.”
“They can see the glow from the fire, too. Maybe they’ll think that’s the problem?”
Linsha continued to peer into the darkness. “It’s too bad Varia went to find Falaius.”
Sir Hugh looked up. “Is Crucible still flying up there?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
They rode on in tense silence, listening to the moans of the wounded in the wagon behind them and the clatter of hooves on the old road around them. The thick mist began to settle in a light drizzle that quickly soaked clothes and chilled the skin.
Linsha, Crucible’s warning spoke in her mind. There are Tarmaks ahead. Stop where you are.
“Stop the wagon,” Linsha ordered. “Everyone stop. Now!”
The wagon and the riders drew to a nervous halt. “What is the problem?” asked the eldest elf from the back of his small horse.
A gust of wind blew over them and they caught a glimpse of a large, winged shape flying in the mist overhead.
“Crucible sees something in front of us,” Linsha replied in a hushed voice. “Since they’re not too close, he can deal with them.”
They waited, not daring to move or even breathe too loudly in the dense blackness.
A horn blew one single note before it was cut short by an intensely white beam of light that shot through the clouds and mist somewhere on the road ahead. There were muffled shouts and sounds of confusion. A second beam seared from the sky to the ground, creating more chaos.
Crucible called to Linsha again. Go, now, while the Tarmaks are disorganized. There is only so much I can do while I’m carrying the eggs.
Linsha gave
the order, and the troop started out once more. They urged the horses into a canter in spite of the road and hurried as fast as they could through the ruins. They reached a curve, followed it around, and there in front of them was the smoking ruins of a Tarmak patrol. A few bodies lay sprawled on the ground, and the two large wagons that had been used to block the road burned furiously. The troop pushed on without a second glance. A stray arrow flew at them from the scattered Tarmaks in the ruins, but that was all. There was no sound of pursuit from behind.
The foundations of the old wall appeared before them, and they saw a crude stone gate, a watchtower, and a small group of sentries who raised their bows and drew the strings to their cheeks. Then the tower, the sentries, and a section of the wall vanished in a bright explosion of fiery light and thunder. Smoke billowed up into the mist.
Linsha blinked in the sudden light, and when she could see again, the portion of the wall was a smoking ruin.
“He is very useful to have around,” Sir Hugh said, “Now that he can fly again. I take this to mean you got that bolt out of his back.”
“Yes,” Linsha said, as they drove past the wall. “With a little help from the Grandfather Tree.”
“When will he leave for Sanction?”
Although his comments sounded terse to her, from what she could see of his face in the dark, he looked cold and fatigued. She reflected for a moment about his words and what he was not saying. “Are you angry about the Scorpion Wadi? You were there, weren’t you? We thought for a while you had been killed.”
“Fellion, I, and a little girl were the only ones who survived the massacre and the capture.” He hunched forward over the reins and glared at the night. “He should never have left, Linsha. No city is worth that many deaths.”
“No, it’s not. But he’s not clairvoyant, Hugh. He never thought the Tarmaks would do that. None of us did. His first loyalty was to another city that needed him, a city he called his home. So he left, thinking we would be all right for a while.”
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