The druid seemed to consider, then nodded. "We should both have another dose of my powder," he said, producing two more earthen urns like the one he had administered to the lieutenant the previous evening. "We do not want to become sick before we find a cure," he added. After the druid had sprinkled the contents on both of them, they were ready.
"Then let's get moving," Vambran said, rising. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be back." They left plenty of provisions with Elenthia-food and water they had procured from the pantry. She sat in a chair and watched them go, a brave smile on her face. At the door, Vambran turned to look back at her one last time, raising his hand in farewell. "Rest," he said, not knowing what else he could say.
"Come back," she said, her voice soft but earnest.
He only nodded then turned away.
Outside the room, beyond the woman's hearing, Vambran stopped and hung his head. "I can't believe I just left her there," he said, feeling the burden of failure wash over him. "Waukeen forgive me."
"It is the right choice," Arbeenok said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's her best chance of surviving."
Vambran sighed. "I feel like I'm leaving everyone to their deaths, lately." Then he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "Let's do this thing." And he walked out of the house, through the garden, and out into the street.
Arbeenok was close behind.
The streets of Reth were littered with the dead. Many were the destroyed remains of those unfortunates who had died, animated, and died again, but a small few had simply perished by other means, somehow avoiding the terrible affliction that would have turned them to unlife.
For a long while, as the two of them walked, no signs of the living were to be found. The morning was filled with haze, smoke from fires that still smoldered. It blew across their path, acrid and hot. Whenever they got near a particularly thick cloud, Vambran grew cautious, unhappy at the thought of something lurking inside it.
After a while, Vambran began to hear something. A commotion, perhaps, but definitely the voices of many people mixed together. As the pair neared the docks, the lieutenant could make it out more plainly.
"Do you hear that?" Vambran asked. "Something's going on up ahead. Let's go see."
But Arbeenok hesitated. "I will not be welcome," he said. "I am too different."
Vambran stopped and looked back, surprised for a moment at his companion's words. He had stopped thinking of Arbeenok as a strange creature. The alaghi was just a trustworthy friend to him. "You have a point. Can you transform into a dog again?"
"I could," the druid replied, "and I will if that is the best course. But perhaps we should use my abilities more thoughtfully."
Vambran cocked his head to one side and looked at the druid quizzically. "What do you have in mind?"
"We only waste time dealing with the people of this city right now," Arbeenok explained. "They do not understand our purpose, and they might fear that we carry the plague."
"I think it's pretty clear we don't," Vambran replied, frowning.
"But why waste time in proving it?" Arbeenok asked. "Our goal is to reach the water. Why do we want to mingle with the people?"
"Well, unless you have a better idea," Vambran said wryly, "walking to the docks is the only way I know of to get to the Reach. And in order to walk to the docks, we have to see what's happening."
Arbeenok smiled then. "I do, as you say, have a better idea," he replied. And he drank deeply of the morning air, sighed, and began to change.
The druid's arms snaked out, elongated and lightened, sprouting feathers. His face shifted and changed, rounding and enlarging, producing a beak where his mouth and nose had been before. His feet shortened and grew talons. His weight adjusted, redistributed, and his belongings vanished, melding into himself, becoming rich brown feathers. When the transformation was complete, Arbeenok regarded Vambran with a critical and very piercing eye.
The mercenary gaped for a moment, shocked once more by the feats Arbeenok was capable of. Then he smiled and said, "You're one damned large hawk."
Arbeenok squawked once in reply and leaped upward, beating his wings to gain speed and altitude. Swooping forward, the druid reached down and grasped Vambran by the shoulders, squeezing his talons together just enough to take hold of the man's armor without puncturing it and piercing his flesh.
Vambran gave a tiny yelp of surprise, but he did not struggle as they soared together skyward, Arbeenok beating his new wings furiously, hauling the extra weight up beneath him. For a moment, Vambran was aghast, but once he convinced himself that the druid would not drop him, he began to enjoy the moment for what it was.
The feeling of flying was exhilarating, and he reveled in it. The morning air was crisp as it whistled past him, cooling after the heavy smoke. Still, it was a long way down, and Vambran swallowed hard a couple of times, especially when the druid shifted and turned. He did not like to imagine dying such a death. Arbeenok circled about a few times, allowing Vambran a chance to study the ground as they rose higher and higher.
"This is incredible!" the mercenary shouted from below the druid.
The buildings of the city dwindled below them, and quickly, the pair was high above, able to see most of the settlement spread out below. Even the highest structure, the great tower of the Palace of the Seven, shooting upward near the center of the city, shrank beneath them. Much of Reth had burned in the night, and many fires still smoked. Bodies were strewn everywhere.
"There," Vambran said, pointing to the docks, and Arbeenok had to arch his head downward to see where the man pointed. "All those people. What's going on down there?"
Arbeenok swooped in closer, and Vambran could make out lines of soldiers holding a position, weapons readied. Crowds of people were strung out facing the soldiers, with a sizeable space between them. As the lieutenant watched, someone tried to run toward the soldiers, dodging and weaving. The soldiers fired bows and crossbows, and Vambran even saw a flash of magic. The runner went down, lying still. As they circled, Vambran realized that the soldiers surrounded the city. And they were holding the people inside.
They are preventing the citizens from spreading the plague, the mercenary thought. They won't let them leave the city. It made sense to him, though he was saddened by the soldiers' tactics. And when they swooped lower, the emblem on the soldiers' uniforms stirred anger in Vambran's heart.
They were men of the Silver Ravens.
The duo's shadow passed over a group of soldiers and the men on the ground looked up. Many began shouting and pointing. Though he knew that none of their weapons had the range necessary to be a true threat, Vambran feared a lucky shot. Nor, for that matter, did he wish to be a target for some wizard's clever magic. As if thinking the same thing, Arbeenok began pulling air beneath his wings with a few powerful strokes, and the pair quickly left the city behind, racing out over the open water of the Reach.
The arbor Patimi had spoken of was not far from Lobra's balcony, but in order to reach it, the two Matrell women and their prisoner had to descend a series of terraced flower beds that had been filled with numerous robust blooming plants, then cross an open lawn. Some of the flowers grew as tall as Emriana herself, and in addition, there were thick hedges, stands of swaying grass with razorlike leaves, and jumbles of thorny bushes. Beyond the flower beds, in the sliver of Selune that shone on it, the arbor loomed dark and forbidding, all overgrown and neglected.
At least we can hide in this mess, the girl thought as she shifted Lobra's weight and struggled down another level. No one would think to hunt for us in here.
On the other end of Lobra's limp form, Xaphira's labored breathing signaled to Emriana that her aunt was losing her energy quickly. That realization made her shudder, wondering what had happened to the older woman while she had been imprisoned in the dungeons of the Generon. After her own suffering at Lobra's hands and the bruises Xaphira sported, the girl's imagination lent itself to some pretty awful possibilities.
"You all right?" Emriana whispered as they shifted sideways to squeeze through a hedge. "You want to stop and rest?"
"No," Xaphira whispered back. "I'll be fine. Just winded."
"That's what I'm worried about," Emriana replied. "As much as I want to make Lobra pay for… this is a bit much. Maybe we ought to leave her here."
"No." Xaphira hissed, making it clear she wasn't going to change her mind. "She's the one advantage we have right now. I'll be all right. Keep moving."
Emriana started to argue, then snapped her mouth shut as she thought better of it. Xaphira could be as stubborn as Uncle Dregaul sometimes, and the girl sensed that it was one of those moments. That and the fact that I just casually mentioned that her own mother had died, Emriana thought, angry with herself. She must have a thousand questions, and we can't even talk about it.
Finally, the two of them reached the last terrace and stopped under the cover of a trellis heavy with some vine sprouting huge, sweet-smelling white blossoms. Emriana could feel Xaphira letting Lobra sag down to the damp, rich earth beneath them, so she did the same. They sat for a while, Emriana wondering what Xaphira was thinking. Finally, she leaned over and said, "I'm sorry."
Xaphira jerked her head around to peer at her niece. "Sorry?" she asked very faintly. "For what?"
"For whatever happened to you. For springing the news about Hetta on you the way I did. There's a lot to be sorry about."
"It's all right," Xaphira replied, and she reached out to find Emriana's hand with her own. Giving it a comforting squeeze, she whispered, "Hush. They'll hear us. Like you said, we'll talk later."
Emriana sighed but nodded, knowing her aunt was right. I hope there is a later, she thought, eyeing the open space between themselves and the trees.
After a moment longer, Xaphira got to her feet. Lobra was beginning to stir. "We've got to hurry, before she wakes up," the older Matrell woman whispered. "Come on."
Emriana joined her aunt and together, they hoisted the woozy woman up from the damp ground. Sticking her head out from the shelter of the shrubs, Xaphira surveyed the grounds, then motioned to Emriana that all was clear. They stepped out into the open.
The first several steps seemed the longest. Emriana's heart was pounding from her fear of being seen, but no one seemed to be about. When they were halfway across, she started to think they would make it.
Bells started ringing all around her.
The sound made her jump and yelp a tiny bit, and she felt Xaphira react in a similar fashion. Both women wasted no time trying to figure out the source of the alarm bells. They broke into a lumbering run, struggling to stay abreast of one another and not drop their prisoner.
In the distance, dogs began to bark. Emriana thought she could hear the sounds of horses riding closer at a gallop. The guards were alerted. They were being hunted.
"Go on," Xaphira said, trying to take the full burden of Lobra on herself. "Run ahead, get over the wall before they catch us. I'll be right behind you."
"No," Emriana said. "I'm not leaving you again."
"Em, there's no time to argue. Go!"
"I'm not leaving you!" the girl almost screamed, fear making her voice rise in pitch. "I lost you once already. Forget it!"
Xaphira didn't reply. The two of them just kept moving, managing to get in among the trees just as lights appeared around the corner of the estate, moving rapidly toward them. The barking of the dogs grew more feverish, more insistent, and louder. Emriana wondered if their masters had released them from their leashes yet. She didn't dare turn around to see.
The arbor turned out to be harder to maneuver through than it might have seemed at first blush. The arching passage was filled with downed limbs, waist-high grass, and brambles. Emriana imagined that no one had tended to the place in at least a generation. More than once, she or Xaphira tripped over something hidden in the undergrowth, falling to one knee or sprawling against the trunk of a tree. Xaphira hit the ground particularly hard at one point and just lay there for a moment, groaning softly. Emriana had to help the woman to her feet.
To make matters worse, Lobra was becoming more awake by the moment, and she was beginning to thrash in her bonds, making it difficult to hold her. Finally, Emriana put her mouth to the woman's ear and said, "If you want to live to see the light of morning, I suggest you stop wiggling. I don't have any compunction against slitting your throat and leaving you here to bleed out, do you understand?"
After that, Lobra was much more compliant.
When they reached the wall, Emriana eyed the barrier, which loomed a good ten feet high, uncertainly. "I've been climbing over too many of these lately," she muttered.
"Get up there " Xaphira said. "I'll boost her up to you once you're on top."
"No," Emriana said. "We go up together."
"Em, we can't! We can't both balance in the tree and hold her. The dogs are coming! You don't have any weapons to fight them! Get up there, now!"
Angry both at being scolded and knowing her aunt was right, Emriana scrambled up the closest tree and easily hopped to the wall. She turned and lay across the top of it on her stomach, then reached down. "Hand her up," she said. "Hurry!"
At the far end of the arbor, lights were bobbing about and men were shouting. The dogs were howling up a storm and charging through the underbrush right toward them. Lobra began to squirm, resisting Xaphira's efforts to heave her up to the younger girl. Xaphira planted one fist into the prisoner's gut, and Lobra crumpled. Xaphira slammed Lobra right up against the wall, and the bound woman let out a stifled grunt of pain. Then the mercenary got underneath her, gaining leverage, and shoved with her legs. Even with her effort, though, Emriana couldn't quite reach down far enough to grasp Lobra.
"It's no good," Emriana said. "We have to leave her."
"No!" Xaphira yelled, and with a final heave, she straightened her arms, pushing Lobra high enough.
Emriana grabbed hold of Lobra's shoulders, but she didn't have the strength to pull her to the top of the wall. "I can't lift her!" she cried. "I'm going to drop her!"
"Just hang on," Xaphira said, moving toward the tree. "I'll be there to help."
A dog lunged out of the grass, leaping right at Xaphira. The older Matrell woman spun and sidestepped the hound, which struck against the wall with a yelp and dropped to its feet. Spinning, it charged her again just as another dog appeared. Xaphira kicked out in front of her, catching the first dog on the nose, then she raked her heel back and out to the side, catching the second dog across its muzzle. Both hounds yipped in pain and scurried back, out of range.
Emriana watched all of it in dismay as she felt her grip on Lobra beginning to slip. "Xaphira!" she cried out. Lobra, she thought, don't you dare start squirming now. "Xaphira, hurry!"
With the two dogs cowed, Emriana's aunt spun and leaped to the lowest branch of the tree and began to clamber up. Below, another dog appeared, barking frantically as it danced around the base of the tree, as though it had trapped a raccoon. The lights were close, and Emriana could almost see the faces of the men carrying the lanterns.
Xaphira landed on top of the wall right beside Emriana just as one of the younger girl's hands finally slipped. Her aunt reached down and grabbed at Lobra's hair, pulling the woman up to the sound of a muffled shriek. Little by little, the two of them hauled their prisoner to the top of the wall while the dogs bayed below.
Just as the first of the Pharaboldi House watch arrived, Emriana and Xaphira managed to slip over the other side, their prisoner still in tow.
By the time more men from the estate worked their way around to the lane on the outside of the wall, the three women were gone, and the first pink rays of dawn were just beginning to spread across the sky.
CHAPTER 9
"This way!" Pilos gasped, turning and sprinting through a gap in a thick hedge. Behind him, Quill, the three mercenaries, and the druid Edilus scurried after him. Pilos's lungs burned and he thought he would collapse soon from exhaustion. The o
ther five men didn't seem badly winded, though the dwarf Grolo was huffing pretty hard as he charged along on his stumpy shorter legs.
I'm soft, Pilos realized. Temple life is too cushy.
When he could run no further, the young priest dropped in a heap among some ferns and plantain trees that created a dense tangle, shielding the world from view. Beside him, the others gathered around, and Pilos was at least thankful to see the men breathing hard, hands on hips or knees. They stood without speaking. Aside from a few distant and muffled shouts, no one seemed to be getting closer to their hidden location.
"I think we lost them," Adyan drawled in a quiet voice, twisting his head to look back through the foliage the way they had come. "I don't hear anyone anymore."
"Good," Pilos muttered, flopping onto his back. "Because if they were still back there, I'd have to surrender."
Don't you dare, Hetta said, displeasure radiating from the ring. Emriana needs you.
I know, Pilos answered. I wouldn't really. But I'm worn out.
"City folk don't know how to run," Edilus said, his scorn obvious. Pilos looked over at the druid and noted with displeasure that the woodsman was breathing easily, looking at the rest of them as though impatient for them to get moving.
"You're right," Horial said, speaking between hard breaths. "We're more civilized, and we've figured out how to use things like wheels."
That elicited a soft chuckle from some of the others, which only made the druid scowl more. Since he had met the strange woodsman, Pilos had not seen him smile. He wondered if Edilus was capable of it.
"We can't stay here," Horial said, rising to his full height. "They will find us. We have to get over the wall and out into the city."
Pilos groaned and sat up. "I can barely lift my feet, much less climb a wall. It has to be twenty feet high!"
"Maybe you have some trick up your sleeve that will get us over it," Horial suggested, looking askance at the young priest.
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