by Thomas Locke
Together they lumbered the last few paces, over to where rain-swept light spilled through a massive hole in the tunnel’s roof. The opening at street level was fully fifty paces wide. The closer they came, the deeper the water grew and the harder the going. Up ahead of where they stood, beyond the rough-edged portal, a vast pile of rubble jammed the tunnel. Water seeped through in tiny driblets.
Connell halted where the rain fell straight into his face and stood there, the water streaking his grin, as he looked up and said, “Alembord!”
Half a dozen faces peered over the edge. The guards captain demanded, “What took you so long?”
Edlyn staggered over to Dally and said, “Call your dogs, my dear. Their work back there is done.”
57
Alembord and his team had been very busy indeed.
Three neighboring structures had been torn apart and re-formed into the dam that now abutted the tower. There was no entrance to this tower, which Alembord had taken to suggest that it was not a normal tower at all. Rather, a solid stone structure had been erected here to maintain regularity. But the original designers had most likely decided they could not fashion a hollow edifice directly in front of the lake. The risk of it collapsing in spring floods was too great. This was important, Alembord explained, for it meant that the guards could not descend to ground level and fight them off.
Alembord’s company had first demolished a massive building, the one closest to the tower. Myron and his most gifted acolyte burned a great hole into the tunnel, then the other three mages compressed the rubble, tighter and tighter, until it formed . . .
A giant stone cork. Which they jammed down tight, filling the tunnel entirely. Sealing off the water’s flow for the first time in millennia.
Meanwhile, guards along the high ramparts had shouted and fired arrows, but neither had had any impact on the mage shields. So they had sent runners the five hundred paces in each direction, to where neighboring towers could grant them access to the streets. But long before reinforcements could arrive, the city’s militia had far more urgent matters to contend with.
The dam blocking the tunnel had only been the beginning of Alembord’s mischief.
The dammed river had to go somewhere. Not even a magically protected city wall could remain sealed against such a force. Especially in a deluge that strong, with the lake’s water level rising at an alarming rate.
North of the city, the rain-swollen river continued to run into the lake. With nowhere else to go, the lake fed more and more water into the moat. The city’s three portals became rivers themselves, flooding the markets and stables and streets. But not even that was enough to stem the flow.
Two of Alembord’s mages hammered the tower and adjoining walls with a constant barrage of lightning bolts. Using this as cover, Alembord’s remaining two wizards assaulted the tower’s base. This had been the core of his strategy, fashioned with Edlyn the previous night—assuming Dally’s image and the accompanying emotions were all correct, this mock tower formed the key to their escape.
But the wall was protected by centuries-old magic. Which meant . . .
The only logical answer was to attack the foundations.
They did not bother with subtleties like melting rock. As Edlyn had said, the time for subterfuge was long over. Once they had cleared the ramparts of defenders, Myron and his mages blasted through the cobblestones fronting the mock tower, down to where they breached the tunnel ceiling. Except these holes were steeply angled. Which meant they burrowed under the tower.
Myron was still cutting the first hole when the highly pressurized water finished the job for him.
The remaining earth and stonework blasted out, followed by a solid liquid cannon blast. The roar was immense, the power staggering. The geyser stripped away roofs and upper floors from buildings three streets away.
Myron and his company completed two more funnels, these angled even more sharply. And a fourth. A fifth. A sixth . . .
And then the tower crumbled.
Great cracks ripped apart the cobblestones. The earth groaned from the damage Alembord’s company had wreaked. The cracks ran like stone veins up the city wall to either side of the ruined tower. Nature did battle with the wall’s ancient magic. Nature won.
Despite the holes and the moat and the city’s portals, the rain-swollen river and moat and lake all continued to rise. By the time that sixth hole opened, waves actually pushed against the wall’s ramparts. With the foundations eaten away and the tons of water massed on its other side, the tower broke free of the wall and fell inward with a mighty sodden crash.
This was when Alembord’s team became truly busy.
58
The one mage other than Myron who was able to recharge the wands was assigned that duty, while other wizards pulled down yet more neighboring structures, hurrying now, crushing and piling them into one monumental wedge. This new wall extended back around both sides of the opening, keeping the water from pouring back into the tunnel through which Dally and her company had to escape.
This wedge sheltered Dally and her company now. The massive wall of rock and rubble was magically protected, the wards held in place by a mage who only halted in her work long enough to turn and wave a greeting. To either side of their tight little island flowed the new overland river. The ruined tower formed a peak to their unnatural divide, around which two rushing currents invaded the capital city.
They clambered up to the top of their barrier and gawked at their handiwork. The flood filled one street after another, a massive torrent that rendered half of Port Royal under water. The sound was monstrous, a sucking growl that rushed with constant fury through the ever-widening gap in the city wall. Dally reflected that the nicest part to all this clamor was how it erased her ability to hear the magical bell. But she knew it still resonated. She could feel it in her bones.
Alembord shouted to be heard over the din. “We must go!”
Under Edlyn’s tutelage they began fashioning a bridge. Dally did not understand the magic being used, so she first reduced the dogs to their normal state, then helped the young female wizard in recharging the wands. The bridge was a rambling concoction of whatever was at hand—wood and condensed rubble and stonework and doors and window shutters. Stairs were fashioned, and together they began to climb. They clambered above the surging rivers, then higher still to where they could look down upon the ruined wall and drowning city.
At Edlyn’s signal, the rearmost mages released their wards upon the wedge, and instantly the water’s fury began eating away the barrier. They then heaved as much debris as they could manage into the hole, blocking the tunnel, keeping all the invading waters overland.
The bridge was little more than a thin stone line. Dally had not realized just how much she disliked heights until that moment. Her limbs were increasingly weak, her steps feeble. She kept her eyes pointed straight at the next step, which aided breathing somewhat. Every time she glanced up she watched as Edlyn continued to build the bridge out of nothing. Then through the rain she spotted their destination, a steep-sided ridge that formed the lake’s natural outer boundary. Four waterfalls gushed down, feeding ever more water into the swollen body below.
And still the rain fell.
Though she no longer carried a sack, Dally’s clothes weighed almost more than she could bear. Every step became a trial. She could now hear little else than her own gasping hunt for another breath.
Slowly, slowly, they approached the ridge. They were so high now the lake was lost to the storm. Dally was surrounded by the grey shroud of mist and the waterfalls’ ceaseless thunder.
It was almost tempting to think of slipping over the edge. Giving up and falling away. The dragon’s elixir had long since worn off. Dally battled against herself. She could think no further than the next step. And the next.
Then she realized the surface upon which she walked had changed. She smelled a grassy earthiness and cried aloud.
She did not fall so much as al
low the ground to rise up and greet her.
59
The rain eased somewhat while they rested. The light strengthened a trace, and breaths came more naturally. Dally raised herself to a seated position and accepted Connell’s spoonful of elixir. A broad pasture, several thousand paces wide, separated them from the forest. Far in the distance the river flowed, the channels swollen and the water surging angrily. Tall manors with empty eyes for windows rose beyond the waterways. Dally saw no sign of life, neither people nor animals. The only sound was of water. Falling from the sky, trickling over the rain-sodden earth, surging down the river’s overflowing banks, tumbling over the precipice, striking the lake below.
Gradually her strength returned to where she was able to rise and stand under her own strength. But she dreaded the trek to come. Dally wished she could ask the Elves to travel this far from their glades. Bring the portal to them. Fashion it here, and then carry them away. To safety.
Edlyn walked over and said, “Try to charge your wand.”
Dally shut her eyes, feeling the rain’s chill fasten upon her joints and sinews, layering her clothes with unwanted weight. She searched down, down, then opened her eyes and confessed, “Sorry, Mistress. Nothing.”
“No, nor I.” Edlyn’s smile was strained. “Well, never you mind. Safety is just up ahead.”
“And soup,” Connell said. With each step he sank in the muck to mid-calf. “And hot tea.”
“Fresh-baked bread,” Alembord said, slogging past them.
“A hot bath,” Edlyn said. The old woman staggered and reached out for Dally’s arm, almost bringing them both down. “Steaming water laced with an elixir for the joints. That’s the ticket.”
They slogged on for another hundred paces, fighting for every inch against the treacly mud.
Finally Edlyn gasped, “This won’t do. This won’t do at all.”
They halted where they were. The mud was too deep to allow them to sit, so they simply stood there in the windless rain, gasping. Connell labored over to where Dally stood, gave her face one look, and wordlessly drew the jar of dragon’s tears from his satchel. He filled the spoon and handed it over without speaking.
Dally interpreted his silence as, “I must look dreadful.”
“While I look like a prince of the realm, no?” Connell’s face was streaked with mud from where he had tried to clear the hair from his eyes. His eyes had retreated somewhat into his face, and his cheeks had turned craven from exhaustion. His gaze had a feverish gleam. “Should I try a mouthful, do you think?”
Dally’s empty belly fought against the taste. She swallowed hard, again. Her hands trembled as she held them out to catch the rain. She drank, then managed, “Be my guest.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Edlyn said. “Line up single file. One mage at a time will use what force we have to compress the earth. Ten paces only. The next mage in line will count the steps, then switch.”
“I should have thought of that,” Alembord said.
“Ten paces,” Edlyn said. “I’ll go first, then Myron. Dally, you—”
“I am taking my turn,” she declared, though she had no idea how it would be possible.
Edlyn merely smiled. “Of course you will.”
Despite their best efforts, it was hard going. The muck was very deep. By the sixth or seventh person in line, the earth released each footstep with a sucking reluctance.
“Aim left,” Alembord gasped, pointing to where the first line of trees jutted out slightly. But to Dally it seemed that they were making almost no progress. She could still sense the magical bell back behind them, tolling their defeat.
They all slipped and fell at some point, which meant they were covered head to feet in slime. Alembord called a brief halt, not nearly long enough. They stood gasping in a frantic shared search for air. Despite the dose of elixir that still gummed her mouth, Dally felt her last vestige of strength draining away. She dared not look at how far they had to go.
And still the rain fell.
Then Connell cried, “The Elves have opened a portal!”
Alembord squinted against the mist and almost moaned, “Help is coming.”
Edlyn mashed the way ahead as hard and dry as she could. “To the forest. Hurry.”
Connell did not bother asking Dally if she needed help. He gripped her arm and supported far more of her weight than he really could manage. One of Alembord’s guards who was not carrying treasure gripped her other side. Together they struggled on.
Then a voice behind them said, “I think that’s quite far enough.”
60
All around them rose a new wall. But one not made of thorns. Rather, this one was shaped from water.
Dally saw the rain veer in midair to be joined by all the groundwater. The liquid pulled away until she stood on a carpet of treacly muck.
This new wall was huge, far taller than the city ramparts, and utterly clear. Through it Dally saw the Elven warriors step through the portal and point in their direction. Then two of the Elves turned and called back inside. Instantly the tunnel vanished. To their immense credit, however, the Elven guards remained outside. They walked toward the wall with weapons drawn, calling angry words that Dally could not hear.
“Wave farewell to your little green friends,” the enemy said. “While you still can.”
The enemy sounded like a man. But he was fashioned from water as well, just like the wall. Dally could see right through him. His voice sounded as though he gargled on the words.
“One of you will spend tonight on Birdcage Walk. I invite someone to volunteer. No?” The enemy spoke with amused patience. He took his time, savoring each liquid word. Enjoying their defeat. “Tomorrow you will all wish you had volunteered, I assure you. After a day and a night in my dungeons, you will all beg to be dangled from the wall. Do you hear me? Beg. Still no volunteers? Well, never mind.”
Edlyn’s wand held a mere glimmer of power. Myron’s and Connell’s and Dally’s were even dimmer. Even so, Edlyn cried, “Mages, strike!”
They all did their best, knowing it was a futile attempt. But trying just the same.
Their combined force sent faint ripples across the enemy’s surface. Nothing more.
“How noble. How useless.” His laugh was dreadful. “You couldn’t manage to recharge your wands here? Pity, that. Well, never mind.”
Elven magic sparked on the liquid wall’s opposite side. The flashes and explosions were made even more futile by their utter silence.
Dally sent out the dogs. Or tried to. Before they reached the enemy, their forelegs became encased in liquid chains. They fought and roared and would have done themselves damage had Dally not ordered them to be still.
“They will make such nice pets,” the enemy told her. “Or perhaps they should go join my forest friends. See what pleasure comes from taking down the next family.”
Dally’s response was chopped off before it formed, because suddenly she could no longer find the air to scream.
“Now let me show you what real power feels like.”
The water rose up and chained them. Dally was so frightened and furious and weary she did not actually realize at first why she could no longer speak. Water flowed snakelike across the earth and wove its way around each of them. Including the dogs. The liquid cage gripped her from feet to shoulders. She could see two of the dogs growling and straining against the force.
“Oh, come now. One of you must be willing to sing for me. No? Well, never—”
The enemy’s final taunt was cut off. Because a dragon crashed down upon him.
61
The chains and barrier became water once more. The wall splashed down heavily, a rushing tide that swept Dally and several others off their feet. Not that they cared. Not in the least. For there before them stood a dragon made of the same crystallized water as the enemy who was no more.
The dragon watched her clamber back to her feet and chattered softly.
Dally flung herself
at the dragon’s liquid leg. It felt like she was trying to embrace a gemstone tree trunk.
The dragon’s crystal eye swiveled around to observe her. Then he lifted his massive head and chattered his drumbeat speech. The power contained within his dragon spell filled Dally with a hint of the same force she experienced with each dose of the elixir. She breathed deep, drawing in as much as she could. Feeling it flow through her entire frame. Knowing with its arrival that they were truly safe.
It caused her to weep harder.
The dragon’s spell caused a flat plank of water to rise up before them. The Elven warriors splashed their way through the muck just as the crystal plank became a set of double doors that were flung wide open. And through them stepped another liquid man.
Dally recognized this one and cried, “Jaffar!”
He took a long look at himself, then declared, “I am rendered speechless.”
The dragon chattered long and low. Jaffar’s own speech carried a trace of the gargled quality, but none of the menace. “Our ally greets the Lady Dahlrin. He wishes you to know that the enemy is not vanquished. Merely forced to retreat. His location has always been hidden. Why or how, our winged ally has no idea.”
Dally realized the others waited for her to speak. She gathered herself, released one hand long enough to wipe her face, then said, “That is more than enough. Thank you so very, very much.”
Jaffar continued to interpret the irregular speech. “He wishes to know if you managed to obtain the vial.”
“It is in the sack. Along with many other treasures that called to me in the same voice.”
“Guard them carefully. In time, their purpose should become clear.”
“You don’t know?”
“This is your quest. Not mine.” The dragon hesitated and inspected the muddy and bedraggled company. “Though the ancient treaties still bind me, everything has changed now. For we share a common enemy. One who corrupts the very fabric of magic. And there is also the matter of this new code I shared with you the first time we met.”