by Troy Denning
They had simply turned their horses toward the heart of the city and urged them into a gallop, trusting that any warriors who could would follow.
The mob began to swirl around the column of riders.
Ruha saw no blood or horrible acid burns, and the crowd appeared more determined than panicked. The witch stopped her horse and caught a swarthy man by the shoulder of his embroidered merchant's robes. He cried out and whirled around, glaring at the witch as though she had tried to rob him.
"Sir, please tell me what is happening."
"Haven't you heard? They say a dragon's coming!"
"Where?" Ruha asked. "Is he ahead?"
The merchant shrugged. "Don't know. No one's seen him, and the Maces don't mean us to.. They've ordered everyone out of town."
"How much farther is…"
The man turned away and vanished into the crowd before Ruha could finish the question. She urged her horse forward. The mob reluctantly parted ahead of her, alternately shouting warnings and curses. The witch ignored both and cast thoughtful glances down the empty alleyways that occasionally separated one wattle-and- daub tenement from the adjacent one. She was tempted to search for a faster route to the Jailgates, but she had seen the back streets of enough Heartlands cities to know most were confusing labyrinths of filth and dead ends.
Hsieh edged his horse alongside Ruha's, drawing sev- eral vehement curses from the river of people coming in the opposite direction. The mandarin leaned over and grabbed the rope holding the witch's skin ofylang oil, then deftly looped it an extra time around her saddle horn.
"Someone follows us." He did not point or turn his head, but his eyes flickered toward his far shoulder. "I think they are not Vaerana's men."
Ruha turned as though speaking to the minister and glanced down the avenue. It did not take long to discover their stalkers. There were at least five of them, pressed close to the buildings and scurrying along against the crowd. They wore plain cloaks that did a poor job of con- cealing the breastplates beneath, and they carried swords and axes on their belts. Though they were not wearing the black caps Ruha had seen in Pros, she felt sure they were cult members; their faces all had the dark, gluttonous look of pillagers and murderers.
"Have you seen more on the other side of the street?"
"Many more."
Ruha looked forward again. "Cypress has called out his militia."
"Then he discovers trick. Soon he comes for us."
Ruha filled her lungs, and then spoke the incantation of the same wind spell she had used to attract the Ginger
Lady's attention on the Dragonmere.
"Stand aside!" Ruha's horse reared at the thunder of her voice. She maintained a secure grip on the reins and spoke again, "Clear the road!"
The command blasted a dozen nearby people off their feet. Many more covered their ears and cast terrified glances skyward, confident that such a thunderous sound could only have come from the heavens. The largest part of the mob froze in their tracks and stared at each other with dumbstruck expressions.
"Stand aside, I say!"
A few people drifted toward the sides of the street, but most of crowd remained too stunned to move. Ruha glanced back and saw that the cult members were draw- ing their weapons.
"Make threat." Hsieh, who was holding his hands over his own ears, shouted the suggestion. "Fear moves what kind words cannot."
"Move, or I shall move you!" Ruha commanded. "You have to the count of three. One…"
By the time she reached two, even the people who had been knocked to the ground were scrambling out of the way. A brief clash of steel sounded behind her as the cult stalkers rushed to attack. The witch dug her heels into her mount's flanks. The trembling beast sprang forward, leaping four people who had not been quick enough to gather themselves up.
Ruha continued to yell. The mob split before her, creat- ing a narrow canyon down the center of Snake Road.
Trusting her mount to pick its own path, she glanced back and was relieved to see the tail of her horse slap- ping the nose of Hsieh's. The rest of the Shou were close behind, several holding blood-stained swords in their free hands. The witch turned her attention forward again, doing her best to search the crowd ahead for any sign of an attack.
Ruha rounded a gentle bend and saw more people pouring onto Snake Road from a large side street ahead.
In the intersection stood a small party of stern-faced Maces, blocking the narrow pathway created by the witch's booming threats. Their weapons were drawn, and behind them stood a blue-robed man with the impatient scowl of a sorcerer who had better things to do than deal with dragon panics and columns of careless horsemen.
Beyond the roadblock, the avenue continued only two hundred paces before it passed out of Temple Hill's shadow and opened into a vast, sunlit market plaza.
Ruha slowed her mount, bringing the column to a stop before the glowering Maces. A grim-faced man with a ruddy complexion stepped forward and pointed his mace at the witch.
"See here, Stranger. Even in the best of times, we don't like-"
"Vaerana Hawklyn would be most appreciative if you will lead us to the Jailgates." Although Ruha whispered the words, the leader and his fellow Maces cringed at the strength of her voice. She urged her horse forward, lean- ing down to offer the man a hand up. "The Cult of the Dragon is close behind, and it won't be long before the dragon himself comes for us."
The leader arched an eyebrow and lowered his weapon, but made no move to climb up behind Ruha. "What's going on?"
"We lack time to explain matter, but it is of great urgency for safety of Lady Yanseldara," said Hsieh. "Now, please to get on horse or stand aside."
The leader jammed his mace into his belt and reached for the witch's hand. "This had better not be some kind of trick."
As Ruha clasped the man's steel glove, the crowd began to churn and close. Someone clamped a hand over the old sorcerer's mouth; then a dagger tip erupted from his chest. Hand axes and short swords appeared from under cloaks and cleaved three Elversian skulls before the Maces realized they were being assaulted. The sur- vivors turned to find themselves facing half-a-dozen attackers each.
"Ambush!"
The angry leader clamped his mailed fingers around Ruha's wrist and jerked, nearly pulling her from her mount.
Suddenly, he cried out in anguish and threw himself against the flanks of the witch's horse. She glimpsed the butt of a crossbow bolt sticking through the armor between his shoulders, then felt hands tugging at her saddle straps.
"Get away from me!" she bellowed.
Her horse reared at her thunderous command, and the grasping hands fell away from her saddle. Hsieh came up beside her, at once trampling the Maces' fallen leader and burying his square-tipped sword in an axe-man's skull. Ruha urged her own mount forward, then led the column across the intersection, scattering ambushers and bystanders alike with the might of her booming voice.
They had barely crossed before a pair of gloom- shrouded figures appeared at the end of the street, block- ing the route into the sunlit market plaza. The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He wore steel plate as black as jet and carried not a sword, but a sliver of darkness shaped like a sword. It was impossible to say what the woman looked like; she was a mere silhouette, a night phantom obtruding on the light of day.
Ruha dropped her reins and raised one hand toward the sky. She pointed the other at the phantom-woman and shook the lane with the rumbling incantation of her sun spell. Five streaks of golden flame shot from her fin- gers and arced down the street, twining themselves together into a crackling cord as thick as a man's leg.
The spell took less than three heartbeats to streak the length of the street, and in that time Ruha's galloping horse had carried her halfway to the marketplace. The fiery rope arced down to strike the shadow-sorceress. The black-armored knight stepped in front of his mistress, raising the tip of his dark sword as though he meant to split the fire.
Instead of dividing down the center, the blazing
cord entered the dark blade and drained from sight. A black flash shone through the window of a street-front tene- ment; then the entire building erupted into golden flame. The conflagration engulfed a dozen bystanders and seared many more. The crowd erupted into hysteria, some howling in anguish and others wailing in terror
Those near the buildings, fearing more such explosions, pushed toward the center of the street, while those nearer the charging horses pressed toward the buildings
The witch rode into a cloud of greasy smoke, and the hor rid stench of charred flesh filled her nose. She found her self struggling to keep her gorge down, sickened more by the knowledge that her magic had helped cause the awful smell than by the odor itself.
The column had nearly reached the end of the street Ruha felt a horse flank brush against her leg and looked over to see a Shou warrior moving up beside her, sword drawn and eyes wild with battle lust. On her other flank rode Hsieh himself. The mandarin's face was almost rap- turous in its placidity, his square-tipped blade held loosely in his hand.
The dark knight raised his black sword and rushed forward to meet Hsieh. At the same time, the shadowy sorceress drew her hands up before her body, raising an impenetrable curtain of darkness around the battleground.
There was no time to rein in. Praying they would emerge in the marketplace with at least one sack of ylang oil intact, Ruha pulled herjambiya and galloped into the darkness. From Hsieh's side came the crackle of breaking bones, followed by the scream of a horse and the crash and clamor of armored and unarmored bodies tumbling along the cobblestones. Ruha heard the man- darin give a short angry yell; then a hand caught hold of her saddle, and she lost track other companions.
The witch lashed down into the black murk, and her dagger sliced harmlessly through air. The cinch strap around her horse's belly popped loudly; then her saddle came loose. Ruha felt herself slipping down her mount's flank and grabbed for the ylang oil. The cobblestones slammed into her shoulder, and her body went rigid with pain. She bounced head over heels, feet still caught in her stirrups, and came to a rest, her head spinning.
The darkness around her exploded with clapping hooves and confused voices, both Shou and Elversian. A pair of steel horseshoes grazed Ruha's leg; then a horse screamed and crashed to the street. The witch found her saddle horn. She untied the oil sack and kicked free of her stirrups. A sharp point tangled briefly in the thick cloth other aba, then pushed through and bit deep into her side.
For a moment, Ruha was too confused to realize what had happened. Then she felt a fiery sting and warm, wet blood spilling down her stomach. She screamed and rolled away, lashing out with the Jambiya.
The blade dragged. Something hot and sticky poured over her hand, and a rich, coppery smell filled her nostrils. The witch flipped her wrist and brought her weapon back to inflict the famous T-shaped wound that made the curved daggers so dangerous, but her foe had already vanished into the darkness.
Ruha pulled the ylang oil closer and clutched it to her breast. A clamorous clash of steel rang out behind her as the Shou turned to meet their cult pursuers. The witch weaved her dagger through the darkness in a blind defense pattern, but a stinging anguish was spreading outward from her wound, and her arm would not move swiftly. The oil sack felt warm and sticky against her breast, but she knew by its smell that the fluid was on1.;; her own blood. Had any ylang oil spilled, she would surely have been nauseated by its sick-sweet smell.
"Ruha?" Hsieh's voice sounded shaky and weak.
"Here, Minister." Ruha heard someone step to her side, then a small Shou hand took her beneath her dagger arm. When it began to pull her up, she asked, "They did not steal your oil sack, did they?"
The hand suddenly loosened its grasp, and Hsieh's voice hissed, "I thought you had the oil."
Ruha did not hesitate; she swung her arm up back- ward and drove the tip of her jambiya deep into the impostor's torso. The hand opened entirely and a haggi,'i scream filled the witch's ear. She scrambled to her fe " and stumbled away as fast as she could, clutching tt ylang oil to her breast and slashing her dagger blind., through darkness. After a few steps, the witch sniffed familiar scent. The odor was fresher and not quite — i cloying as the ylang oil she had smelled in Prince Tang's spice refinery, but there could be no doubting it. She turned slightly off her course and followed the fragrance toward its source.
A moment later, the witch stepped into the sunlight and found herself staring at Hsieh's blood-spattered back. The mandarin reeked of ylang oil and still carri? "' his burst sack over his shoulder, and in his hand he he the dark knight's black sword. Ahead of him, the shan owy sorceress was groaning feebly and staggeru^ through the deserted market plaza toward a looming, black-winged shape.
After a hundred tries, Tang managed a flawless hurl Flying sideways, the golden necklace hit Yanseldara's staff, and the heavy amulet at the end whipped around and swung over its own chain. The choker slid down the shaft and stopped at the red-glowing pommel, which hung over Tang and his mother's heads like a strange, uby-flamed chandelier. The prince carefully pulled his rope taut, then walked around the ingot island to twine the line more securely about the shaft.
"This no time to stretch legs, Brave Prince." Lady Feng positioned herself directly beneath the staff. "Pull!"
Tang climbed to the center of the island and hauled on the rope. The staff popped free and plummeted straight toward the head of the Third Virtuous Concubine, who stepped aside and plucked it from the air without allowing the topaz to strike the ingots. Before the prince could comment on her catch, she slipped the rope off the shaft, then took a small bundle from her mahogany chest and started down the slope.
Tang gathered up his rope and empty waterskin and followed. "The passage is long one, Esteemed Mother. It would be better if you also had air."
"Cypress does not provide prisoners with sacks for air."
She opened her bundle and sat at the edge of the water.
"But not to worry. With you doing work, I do not need breath."
Lady Feng began to breathe quick and shallow, forcing her body to absorb as much extra air as possible.
Tang sat at her feet and tied her ankles together.
"What of your spellbook?"
"Even small amount of water ruins it."
"Your chest is waterproof."
Lady Feng glowered at him. "You already pull too much. Spellbook is safe enough here, with my other trea- sure." She snatched the rope from his hand, then untied the jewelry he had used to weight the end. She tossed the necklace on the ingot pile. "With all my treasure."
Tang sighed, resigning himself to a return trip after
Lady Feng recovered her senses and wanted her spell- book. He snatched his rope back, finished binding his mother's ankles, and fastened the other end of the line to his waist. The prince filled his waterskin with air and tied it around his neck, then helped the Third Virtuous
Concubine seal her mouth with a gag of waxed silk. She picked up Yanseldara's staff, and soon they were in the water. Tang helped her out into the lake and swam over to where the treasure vault's ceiling sloped down to meet the water.
"Are you ready. Esteemed Mother?"
Lady Feng took a few more breaths through her nose, then nodded and mumbled something that might have been, "No dawdling."
She plugged her nostrils, and Tang dove beneath the surface, dragging the Third Virtuous Concubine behind him. The light from the glowing spirit gem in Yansel- dara's staff illuminated the watery cavern in shimmering scarlet light, revealing a huge, winding passage that was not so much a single corridor as a confluence of smaller tunnels arriving from all directions. Despite the labyrinthine appearance, there was no doubt about which passage Cypress used; even if the other tunnels had been large enough to hold him, his stony scales had scoured hundreds of shallow furrows along the proper route.
Although Tang could not be certain, the trip out of the treasure chamber seemed to go much faster than it had coming in. A slight current carr
ied him forward even when he did nothing, while the light from the spirit gem made it much easier to find handholds. The prince drew himself yards at a pull, and he had just drawn his second breath from the air skin when the first brown hints of bog rot began to cloud the water. The rope grew slack as Lady Feng drifted toward him.
Tang glanced back and saw his mother's pop-eyed stare locked on his kicking heels. Her waxed gag and nos- tril plugs remained in place, but her cheeks were puffed- out and her face was crimson with the desire for breath
She scowled and waved him forward, then clamped her free hand over her mouth and nose.
The prince looked ahead and pulled through the pas sage with renewed vigor. To his dismay, the water did not grow any murkier. The gentle current that had been pushing them forward died away. He started to worry that he had somehow lost his way, but that could not be.
They had passed no side tunnels large enough to hold
Cypress, and the walls in this passage still showed the deep scouring marks left by the dragon's scales.
Tang began to sense a dark presence ahead. For a moment, he feared it was their foe swimming up the pas- sage; then he saw a curtain of gray stone at the end of the tunnel: Cypress had blocked the exit. The prince did not waste any of his precious breath lamenting the dragon's foresight. He simply pulled himself to the boul- der, then turned to take Yanseldara's staff from his mother so he could search for gaps around the edges.
Lady Feng's pop-eye was fluttering in its socket. Her cheeks were no longer puffed out and her face had turned more purple than crimson. Though she still held her free hand clamped over her mouth, a small stream of bubbles was rising from between her fingers. Tang knew she had pulled her gag aside to expel her breath and was strug- gling not to fill her lungs with water. Only one gulp of air remained in the air skin. The prince's own lungs were burning with the desire for another breath, but he pushed the sack toward his mother's mouth.
Lady Feng caught his arm. Her squinty eye rolled for- ward and looked Tang up and down, and the Third Virtu- ous Concubine smiled. She shook her head and pushed the air skin back toward the prince's mouth, then pointed from his lips to hers.