"Bartimus!" Grozier snapped, drawing the wizard out of his thoughts.
"Um, yes?" he stammered, realizing that he had actually managed to daydream about daydreaming and thus missed his employer's question.
"I said, let's forget this for a moment and try something else. Can we peek in on someone else's situation?"
"Why, yes," Bartimus answered, mentally ticking off the number of applications of the scrying spell in his head. "I planned ahead and scribed the requisite spell several times, just in case you would desire me to perform several viewings at once."
"Excellent," Grozier said. "Let's take a look at what our good friend Vambran Matrell is up to. I wonder if he's dead yet?"
Bartimus nodded and withdrew a small rolled parchment from a hidden pocket in his robes. Unfurling the thing, he began to call on the magic embedded in the script he had placed there, drawing on the arcane energies locked away in the phrases. He felt the swirl of magic surround him and pour from his hands into the mirror. As the spell took effect, a new image formed in the glass. At first, Bartimus could make out little more than a shifting, swarming light from some flame, with black figures silhouetted against the blaze. With a mental command, the wizard adjusted the point of view, drawing back from the image to get a more panoramic orientation.
Behind Bartimus, Grozier gasped. "What is that?" he asked, leaning down to better scrutinize the mirror. "Are you sure you found Vambran? Where is he?"
The diminutive wizard pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and stared for a moment at the scene before answering. "Yes, I'm sure I've focused in on him. That looks like a city street. I don't know what's burning, though."
"Look," Falagh said, pointing. "There he is, fighting." Then the man leaned in closer, right next to Grozier, crowding Bartimus out. "What is that thing next to him? And what in the Nine Hells are they battling?"
"By Waukeen, that's a zombie!" Grozier said, jerking back. "Bartimus, pull the image back some more. Get the whole street, if you can."
When the wizard complied, the three men could see that a multitude of hunched and limping forms shambled around the periphery of three figures fighting back to back. One of the three was a man, clearly Vambran Matrell, another was a woman, and the third was inhuman.
For a long moment, the three of them sat and stared at the grim battle taking place within the mirror. Finally, Falagh asked in a quiet tone, "Bartimus, can you draw back even more? I'd like to see as much of the city as we can. That has to be Reth."
Bartimus sent a mental command to the mirror and the image panned back, encompassing several blocks of stone buildings. A multitude of fires burned in the scene. Everywhere the three men stared, houses and shops were engulfed in fire.
"Our logging," Grozier rasped, his eyes wide. "It's all going to burn! We'll lose everything!"
Horial Rhoden attempted to stifle numerous yawns as he trudged along a poorly lit path, following one of the druids leading him through the damp and misty Nunwood. On the third such mouth-splitting gape, he stumbled over a tree root and nearly fell on his face. Disgusted, the sergeant rubbed his eyes and smacked his cheeks a few times to force himself fully awake again.
Pay attention! he ordered himself.
"Contemplating a nap?" Adyan Mercatio asked in his distinctive drawl, hiking along beside Horial in the near-darkness, his breathing somewhat labored in the muggy night. Selune's light barely penetrated the canopy overhead, making it difficult to spot the many branches, roots, and bushes that slapped and clawed at the five mercenaries along their journey.
The half-dozen or so druids accompanying them did not have the same problem navigating the woods.
"I've forgotten what sleep feels like," Horial replied, yawning again. "Other than a brief nap when we were imprisoned in that cave, I don't think I've slept since we were on board Lady's Favor."
"That sounds about right," Adyan agreed. "I'll tell you one thing," he added with a chuckle, "I've had about enough of traipsing through dripping forests in the dark of night. I'm soaked."
Edilus, the druid leading the expedition, appeared out of the darkness beside the two sergeants. "Shhh!" he hissed, motioning with his hand for the two mercenaries to be silent. "Stop speaking, or you will bring the enemy down on us!" he snapped in a whisper. "And can't you walk more quietly?" he asked before turning back. "You move like a herd of rothe," he called over his shoulder.
Horial opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of the idea and instead covered his mouth with his hand, fighting yet another yawn. Edilus disappeared once more, drifting off under the cover of night without a sound, presumably to scout ahead.
"I thought we were the enemy," Adyan remarked with just enough volume that Horial was certain the druid had heard.
Horial grunted at his companion's humor. Behind the pair, the other three members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent followed along, making considerably more noise as they crashed and stumbled through the undergrowth. The racket made the druid's scathing remarks seem more apt than the sergeant wanted to admit. The dwarf Grolo, in particular, stomped along, cursing every so often as vines and saplings slapped at him.
I guess he's got a point, Horial thought in grudging appreciation. We sound just like a herd of rothe.
It was not easy to acknowledge the druid's skills. Edilus had taken every opportunity to express his dislike, both in word and manner, since the Crescents' capture and subsequent release by the Emerald Enclave nearly a full day earlier. Whether he used a sour look or a cross word, the man was determined to make clear just how much he disliked having to cooperate with soldiers from beyond the borders of his forest. Horial had no doubts that Edilus would just as soon run them through as help them.
The feeling is mutual, Horial thought. Thank Waukeen that Shinthala is the one making decisions.
"It's sure a good thing Vambran has a way with the ladies," Adyan drawled in a near-whisper. "Otherwise, Shinthala probably would have already let that fellow work off his frustrations on us."
Horial chuckled at how Adyan was echoing his own thoughts. "He might still do it," he replied with a grin, though he knew his friend could not see the expression in the dimness. "Shinthala isn't here to rein him in."
Adyan grunted but did not reply otherwise, for at that moment, the signal came from up ahead for the procession to halt.
Horial slowed to a stop and gave a soft "hold," over his shoulder to the other soldiers coming up behind him. He crouched down and peered ahead, trying to see the reason for their pause. Adyan dropped low beside him. In the darkness, it was difficult to tell what was beyond, but it appeared that a clearing lay not much farther along the path. Moments later, Edilus appeared next to the two sergeants once again.
"We are almost there," the druid said as he dropped down beside them. "But we must be cautious now, for we leave the safety of the forest and will be out in the open and more easily seen. Ahead of us, the road from the city passes. On the far side, among some ruins, is the magical way."
"What's your plan, then?" Horial asked.
"I have scouts ahead," Edilus replied, "making sure the road is clear. Once we are certain we are alone, I will take you to the portal. It won't be long, and I can be rid of you once and for all," he finished.
Horial rolled his eyes, knowing that in the dark, the other man could not see his expression. "We're just as ready," he replied.
"You have the key I gave you?" Edilus asked, ignoring the sergeant's comment.
Horial felt in his pocket for the gem the druid had given to him back at the encampment. The shard of quartz was still there. "Yes," he answered. "And you're sure it will get us all through the portal? Just the one piece?"
"As long as you do not delay," Edilus answered. "The one with the key must go first, and all others who wish to pass through must follow quickly behind, while the magic is active. It should be accomplished easily."
"All right then," Horial said. "Let's go."
"As soon as I receive the
signal," the druid said, "we will cross the road and enter the ruins."
At that moment, a low, cooing call of a morning bird sounded from the distance. Edilus snapped his head around in the darkness. "There," he said, rising to his feet. "That's the signal. It's time to cross."
The group rose up and began moving forward again, and after only a few paces, passed out of the forest and through the scrub brush along its fringe. Out in the open, Selune-although a mere sliver right before her new phase-cast welcome illumination to light the journey. Wading through damp, waist-high grass, the five mercenaries and their escort of wood-folk crossed the open ground toward the place where the road from Reth circumnavigated the Nunwood toward Hlath. Although it was the only overland route between the two cities, the avenue was nothing more than hard-packed soil, but it was wide enough for three wagons to pass.
As the entourage reached the road and crossed to the far side, Horial noticed the outline of a structure in the distance. It seemed all leaning angles and jagged edges, and Edilus was leading them toward it. They closed the distance, the mercenaries following Edilus while the rest of the druids fanned out on every side, staring into the night, sniffing the air or listening. Horial thought they seemed on edge.
"That must be it," Adyan whispered beside Horial. "It'll be nice to sleep in a soft, dry bed in Arrabar tonight. It seems like it's been a month since we left."
Horial started to reply, but the whinnying of a horse cut him off. It sounded close. At almost the same instant, Edilus went to ground, dropping low enough into the grass so as to vanish.
What the-? Horial thought as he looked in the direction from which the sound had seemed to come. Nothing was visible-merely the open road under the night sky. There were no horses and no place to hide within several hundred paces. But the mercenary had not imagined the sound, for everyone around him was reacting as well.
"Back into the trees," Edilus hissed, rising up into a low crouch and beginning to jog toward the safety of the forest.
Before the druid had even gone three steps, an arrow hissed out of the night, sinking into the ground near his feet. A shout rose up from nearby. "To arms, to arms!" someone cried, and light suddenly illuminated the area from several locations about the group as more arrows fell among its members.
Horial spun about in place, trying to discern where the shouts had originated, but the sudden glow of lights in the sky forced him to squint and shield his eyes. He recognized the magical effect.
Just like Vambran's signal flares, the sergeant realized.
By that point the pounding of hooves sounded nearby, and the mercenary could see a cadre of cavalrymen rushing toward the group. They seemed to have appeared out of thin air, for there was no place close by where they could have hidden beforehand. From another direction, more soldiers charged toward them on foot, again much too near to have been hiding anywhere but in the tall grasses. Then Horial noticed a group of infantry, and yet another of cavalry. In all, nearly half a dozen small units of troops were bearing down on them, easily forty soldiers or more.
Silver Ravens.
"Ambush!" the sergeant cried out, realizing that the group was almost surrounded. The only direction that remained open for retreat was away from the forest. "To the ruins!" he shouted, grabbing at Burtis, who had dropped to one knee and was loading his crossbow. "Don't waste your ammunition!" he told the Crescent as he shoved the man in the direction of the portal.
A crossbow bolt zipped past Horial's head as he spun and found Filana looking about, dazed. Horial tried to take hold of the woman and show her the direction he wished her to go, but she sagged down at his feet then, and he saw the arrow jutting from the small of her back.
"Damn it to the Nine Hells," Horial swore as he bent down and scooped the soldier up. Hefting Filana over his shoulder, he began to charge across the field as fast as his burden would allow. He spotted Edilus nearby, twirling a sling over his head and aiming at an oncoming mounted soldier. The druid released the sling and fired the stone just as Horial reached him. "Help me!" Horial said, trying to grab at the woodsman and pull him along. "I can't carry her by myself!"
Edilus spun to stare at the sergeant, hatred plain in his expression. "Betrayer!" he shouted in fury. "You warned them that we were coming! You planned this ambush!"
Horial nearly punched the druid in the face. "So they could run down my own soldiers? You're crazed!" Then he shook his head. "Suit yourself," he said, trying to quell his anger. He turned to run.
Ahead, Adyan, Burtis, and Grolo had reached the base of the outer wall of the ruined structure. The had formed a line and were firing back toward Horial and the wounded Filana, aiming at targets that must have been just behind the two of them. To Horial's amazement, two druids-one a wild elf and one a halfling, both with leaves and twigs tangled in their hair-had joined the mercenaries, working together to try to hold the ambush at bay long enough to allow their companions to catch up.
In the next instant, Horial felt the jolt of impact twice in succession, and Filana jerked on his shoulder with a scream of agony. The mercenary felt two more strikes, but the woman did not react at all.
Then an arrow sank into the flesh of Horial's leg, just above the knee, and he went down in a tumble.
This is it, the sergeant thought, groaning as he waited for the mounted troops to ride him down. May Waukeen deem me worthy to be received in Brightwater, he prayed.
Just beyond Horial's sight, he heard the scream of men and mount, and the clash of weapon on weapon. Then, without warning, Edilus was there beside him, trying to help him up. Horial reached for Filana, trying to find a way to lift her while pushing on one good leg.
"Leave her," the druid snapped, grabbing at the sergeant and dragging him to his feet. "She's already left this world."
Indeed, Horial could see by then the multitude of arrows protruding from her back, one at the base of her skull. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat in sorrow, then grunted as Edilus forced him to move. Together, the mercenary and the druid limped toward the others. But they could not move fast enough to evade the first group of horsemen bearing down on them.
Edilus let Horial slide down to the ground as the druid yanked his scimitar free of a scabbard across his back and slashed at the closest cavalryman. Horial managed to get to one knee and bring his crossbow up, aiming at the next mounted foe coming in, a mace held high and ready to deliver a crushing blow. The sergeant fired his weapon and saw the horseman twitch then pitch off the far side of his saddle as the horse thundered by.
A hail of arrows and bolts swished through the air near Horial, and one caught him in the shoulder. The force of the missile wrenched him around and he groaned, letting the crossbow slide free of his grip as he sagged forward, his face pressing into the cool damp earth beneath him. For the second time that night, the mercenary was certain he would die.
But the riders did not come.
"Come on!" Edilus rasped, trying to lift Horial once more and cross the few remaining paces to the ruins. The sergeant looked around and saw that the cavalry had retreated under a hail of bolts and missiles from the group at the base of the ruins. They were reforming, though, and the infantry was moving in, coming straight at the tiny band of defenders with bows and swords brandished.
Horial limped beside the druid, who had the sergeant's good arm wrapped around his shoulders. Dizzy with pain, Horial could barely tell how close they were to the safety of the crumbling walls, and he expected at any moment to feel the sharp pain of more arrows piercing his flesh from behind.
After what seemed like an eternity, the pair reached the wall. Adyan took Horial's other arm and helped Edilus bear him into the structure while the remaining defenders continued to fire their weapons at the onrushing foes.
"Where's the portal?" Horial asked, fumbling in his pocket for the shard of quartz. He drew the fractured stone out and tried to hand it to Adyan. "Lead the way," he told his companion. "Go without me," he added.
Adyan shook h
is head. "We're all going back together," the man drawled, the scar along his chin shining faintly in the light of Selune. "Not leaving you here for those bastards to tear apart."
A cry of pain arose just on the other side of the wall, and when Horial turned to look, Grolo came dashing in through the gap in the stonework amidst a shower of projectiles. The dwarf looked Edilus squarely in the eye and said, "One of your mates is down, and the other, the wee fellow, went scampering through the grass in a blood fury. I don't think we'll see him again."
Edilus nodded but said nothing.
"Where's the thrice-damned portal?" Horial asked again. "We're out of time!"
"This way," Edilus said, turning and guiding Horial toward a partially collapsed flight of stairs. "The archway at the top," the druid said, pointing as they moved.
Horial eyed the top of the steps, for it looked as though the stairway was hanging by will alone and would fall over at the slightest push. "You're crazed," the sergeant breathed. "That will never hold us," he told the druid.
"It will," Edilus replied, "if you go one at a time."
"That doesn't help me," Horial said wryly, still leaning against the druid. "I don't think I can climb fast enough." He grabbed hold of Adyan's hand and slipped the shard of quartz into the man's palm. "Get up there," he said. "Get through the portal." Adyan started to protest, but Horial talked right over him. "If I make it, I make it, and if I don't… Vambran is counting on us."
Adyan gave his friend one measured look, then he nodded and spun around. "Let's go," he said to Grolo.
The dwarf turned and followed Adyan at a distance, waiting until the sergeant was at the top before proceeding.
Beside Horial, Edilus had drawn forth a totem, a bundle of twigs, leaves, and beads all tied together with strands of vine, and was chanting something indecipherable, his face turned heavenward and his eyes closed. Horial snuck a quick look toward the gap in the stone. The first shadows of moving figures were there, risking glances into the ruins, wary of attack from the defenders within. A lone swordsman stepped inside and rushed to the base of another crumbling wall, using it for cover. The figure gave a whistle and motioned for others to follow.
The Emerald Scepter soa-3 Page 6
