Taananzu called out a final command and lowered its arms. A moment of silence passed, broken only by nervous muttering from the men.
The earth elemental lumbered forward until it stood upon the far edge of the gorge. Thick black roots grew from its feet, boring into the edge of the rock escarpment as it latched on. The elemental bent at the waist, leaning forward across the rushing river below, and its hands, each one of which could hold a merchant’s wagon in its palms, slammed to the ground before Taananzu. More roots squirmed free of its blocky hands, burrowing deep into the ground. The creature’s rocky body rumbled and crunched as it straightened itself out. After a few moments, it remained still, forming a rocky land bridge with its massive body.
“Well done, Taananzu.” Nesnys turned to Colonel Cornix, who commanded his group of killers. “The way is clear. You have your orders—do not disappoint!”
The Butcher of Almanes nodded, a hungry gleam in his eyes. He turned and barked a curt order then strode forward and fearlessly walked across the elemental’s back until he reached the other side. His Hundred Scorpions, swollen into a cohort of a thousand men, streamed across behind him as they went to visit murder upon the Ketanian army.
Taananzu disappeared in a swirl of stinking green vapors. A moment later, the creature reappeared on the opposite bank. A few Nebarans cursed, astonished by the demon’s sudden appearance, and hastily stumbled away.
Nesnys glided across the gorge. The encampment lay about a mile ahead. Come the dawn, the king’s army would be severely weakened, perhaps even routed. The would-be fort at Ammon Nor would be destroyed, and the full might of her twenty-thousand-strong imperial army would be on the move to swiftly crush the remnants of the king’s army.
A wicked smile spread on her face at the thought of the burgeoning defeat of the Ketanians and her path to victory. With the destruction of the king’s army, the entire heart of Ketania would lie open before her. Nothing would be able to prevent her victory.
***
The alarm still hasn’t been raised. The city is done for. Creel stood peering into the thick fog toward the town, silently willing one of the guards to sound the bell. Occasionally, he could hear a strangled cry, a barking dog, or harsh laughter, but the Nebarans were mostly silent in their dirty work. He could only imagine half the garrison had been wiped out by now. King Clement would arrive to find Ammon Nor in the hands of the enemy.
He started when a bush rustled near his cage. Too late to play dead again. He tensed, ready to defend himself as best he could.
“Dak?” a voice whispered.
“Ferret?” He let out a relieved breath.
The girl dashed forward, grasping his leg through the bars, face pale with fright. “Oh, gods, they… they’ve…”
“Shhh. I know.” Creel knelt down and gripped her cold hand in his. He focused on her wild eyes, trying to calm her with his gaze. “Can you get me out of here?”
“Aye. That’s why I came.” Ferret swallowed hard and withdrew a lockpick from a pouch on her belt. Her hand was shaking so badly she dropped it. With a curse, she knelt and felt around on the ground.
“You’ve got stones, lass, for coming out here in this. The fog’s magical—how are you not rendered asleep by it?” He could hear her scrabbling desperately in the leaves and mud.
“The flophouse… It’s at the edge of town by the old ruins. The fog ended right there. Got it!” She stood back up, and this time, her hands were steadier. She jiggled the lockpick around in the big rusty lock. After a moment, it clicked, and she popped it open with a fierce look of satisfaction.
Creel shoved the cage door open and hopped down beside her. He took a moment to stretch his aching back and cramped limbs.
“What do we do?” she asked. “There’s enemy soldiers on the guard tower, so we can’t ring the alarm. I know—I checked.” The words came out in a frightened rush.
Creel placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. “You’ve done well, lass, but it’s too dangerous in the city. Head for the woods west of town. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
She was already shaking her head. “Nay, that’s a shite plan. I’m coming with you. You need me—I can help you! I freed you, so I want you to take me with you—that’s my condition.”
Sensing she was about to lose her fragile self-control, he gripped her shoulders tighter. “Aye, if that is your wish, you can come with me, but we’ll be lucky to make it out alive. You saw what happened on that battlefield, right? I might survive this night, but the odds aren’t so good for you. I don’t want that, and neither should you.”
Ferret’s lip trembled for a moment, then she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She surprised him by clutching him in a rough embrace for a moment before pulling away, looking embarrassed. “I can do this,” she said in a controlled voice.
Creel smiled as the lass undoubtedly had more courage than half the warriors in town. “Follow me and do what I tell you. No arguing, all right? The city’s best chance is for us to ring that alarm bell, or thousands will be slain in their beds.”
Ferret nodded. “Aye. After that, we’d best find Enna. And that orange-eyed boy,” she added after a moment. At Creel’s questioning look, she shrugged. “He seemed a good sort—bought me a mug of mulled wine.”
“Wait here.”
Creel walked over to where his guard lay sprawled in the mud. The sound of the Nebarans’ passage had receded a while ago. If a silver lining existed, it was that the whole damned army hadn’t come across the ford yet, but that wouldn’t matter once the city fell.
He took the fallen guard’s sword and dagger and returned to Ferret. “Let’s move. We go through the gap in the wall, then straight to the guard tower. You still have that rabbit-sticker knife? Good.”
They made it back to the palisade without encountering any soldiers. Ferret led the way through the opening and along the inside of the wall, as silent as a shadow. At one point, she motioned him back then pressed herself tightly against the wall, and a pair of enemy soldiers passed by in the direction they’d come.
Creel saw his chance. He lunged out and ran the nearest Nebaran through, sword punching through his back and piercing his heart. He dropped with a gurgle. The other guard spun, only to find Creel’s blade opening his throat. A loaded crossbow tumbled from his grasp, but Creel caught it by the stock with his left hand.
Ferret had a nervous smile on her face when he returned with the crossbow. “It sounded like two of them up there before. You shoot them off, and I’ll climb up and ring the bell,” she offered.
“Let’s take a look at what we’re facing first.”
They crept up to the guard tower. The soldiers were lost to sight in the mist above, but they could hear voices talking in a low murmur. Creel was tempted to climb up and attack them himself, but he couldn’t carry both the crossbow and sword while climbing. They would likely be on him before he could kill both of them, and fighting on a high ladder wasn’t ideal. From the distant voices, more soldiers were milling around near the gates a short distance away. Once the bell tolled, they would come running, and whoever was up there would be trapped.
Cursing silently, he realized they didn’t have any good options. He decided he would have to trust Ferret’s ability to keep herself safe. She would have to ring the bell so he could try to hold off the soldiers who came to investigate. “Start climbing. I’ll try to get their attention. Give it a few good rings, and then run. If we get separated, meet in the western woods like I said earlier.”
Ferret nodded gravely and then scurried up the ladder, as nimble and quiet as her namesake. She clung just below the platform, waiting for his move. Creel stepped a few paces back and gave a low whistle, crossbow aimed upward. A blurry shape moved in the mist, and he loosed a quarrel where he hoped the man’s chest was. A cry sounded, and a man plummeted from the mist, bolt lodged in his gut. He hit the ground hard, and the quarrel punched out his back with a loop of bloody intes
tine on the tip. He gurgled, and Creel crushed his skull with a swift blow from the stock of the crossbow.
“Moshi?” someone called.
Creel looked up, and Ferret was gone. He gripped his dagger, waiting for a target to present itself. A shape moved overhead, and he could barely make out the soldier’s boots and the tip of a loaded crossbow as the soldier tried to peer down through the mist. Before Creel could loose his dagger, the soldier gave a startled grunt and was then plummeting toward the ground, arms and legs flailing. Creel was forced to hop back a step. The Nebaran cried out before smacking the ground beside his companion. Creel silenced him with a slash of the dagger across his throat.
Then the bell began tolling, shockingly loud in the eerie stillness of the fog. Its peals resonated throughout the city.
Curses sounded near the gate. Boots pounded the ground, and a squad of Nebarans raced out of the mist to storm the guard tower.
“Run, Ferret!” Creel stepped forward to meet them.
He stabbed the first man through the chest as he tried to climb the ladder. The Nebaran slumped, falling back on his comrade who was set to follow him up the ladder. A shout of alarm was raised in the distance, all while the bell kept tolling.
Two more soldiers came at him from either side of the ladder. Creel dodged and spun to his left, parrying that blade aside. He slashed the man across the thigh. Four more foes rushed out of the mist, pressing him back. Creel fought like a cornered bobcat. He took shallow cuts to his sword arm and ribs, but he cut one man down and bulled another into the men behind, briefly entangling the three. But it was still five on one. A sword slashed for his head, but he ducked, and it thunked into the wooden support post of the tower. Creel kicked out, smashing the swordsman’s knee. A quick slash took an eye from the man on his right. On the backswing, he caved in another man’s helm.
Then a sword plunged into his ribs. Creel’s breath caught, and blood filled his lung. He staggered backward just in time to avoid another thrust of a blade. His back hit the palisade, the sword still in his side, and the man’s mouth twisted in a snarl as he sought to drive the blade deeper.
With his free hand, Creel gripped the crossguard, holding it at bay for a precious moment. He brought his own sword around and chopped the soldier in the neck. As the man fell, Creel pushed at the crossguard, and the blade slid free of his ribs. Another soldier took his place, blade stabbing in. Creel squirmed aside, just avoiding the thrust. He smashed that man in the jaw with the pommel of the sword he’d freed from his side. The Nebaran staggered momentarily, and Creel ran him through. The man fell to his knees, and Creel’s sword was trapped for an instant, just as another blade came down at his head.
He winced, ready to be struck down by the soldier with the ruined eye, but the blow never fell. The man’s good eye rolled back, and he tumbled facedown on the ground, blood welling from the base of his skull. Ferret stood behind him, bloody little knife in hand, looking as surprised as Creel was. The man with the wounded knee started hobbling away, but Creel drew his dagger and threw it, planting it between the Nebaran’s shoulder blades. He staggered a couple more steps and fell.
“We did it!” Ferret’s shock had turned to excitement.
“Aye, we did.” Creel winced, holding a hand to his wounded side. He coughed some blood to clear his lung. His chest was on fire, but he would survive.
Ferret looked at him anxiously. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Aye, lass.” He clapped his hand on her shoulder. “That was well done—you’ve some courage. Let’s get to the Disarmed Bandit.”
Ferret beamed. She gripped his arm, ready to put it across her shoulders to support him, but he gently disentangled himself. “I’ll make it on my own, but it would be best if you scout us out as safe a route as possible.”
***
Mira was shaken awake in the night, Kennitt kneeling over her. An alarm bell was sounding from Ammon Nor, she realized.
“Treachery is afoot,” the ranger said grimly. “Some sort of unnatural fog crept into the town. Not long after, Whisper could see Nebaran soldiers making their way across the ford and streaming into the town. A half hour or so after that, the bell began sounding.”
Whisper hooted as if in agreement from where she was perched on a tree limb above them, barely visible save for her golden eyes.
Mira rolled to her feet, a strange tightness in her chest. She felt a powerful draw, as if something were pulling her urgently toward the embattled city. Distant shouts arose from Ammon Nor. The alarm bell abruptly stopped, the sudden silence foreboding.
“He’s there and in danger,” she said. “We must go to him.”
Kennitt sighed. “I knew you were gonna say that. Already packed. Ready when you are.” His yew bow was strung and in hand.
Mira hurriedly crammed her bedroll into her pack. She took a long drink of water then took a deep breath, centering herself for a moment. She sensed her skills would be sorely tested this eve, at stake her Balance Quest and her very survival.
Kennitt summoned Whisper, stroking the owl’s head and speaking to her softly. A moment later, the bird launched into the night sky. “She’ll take a look around, but I told her to keep near the woods. Plenty of trouble in town already, and her eyes won’t help us in that damned mist.”
Mira shouldered her pack, and they started toward the city at a jog. They had given up the search the past evening, their attempts unsuccessful and the two of them weary from the swift pace of travel over the past days. With the inns bursting to full, they camped in the nearby forest with plans to resume their search in the morning. Kennitt’s relief had been evident in camping away from the crush of people in the city. Mira couldn’t help but think later the Weave had directed them to the forest that night, for the chance was likely they’d have been murdered in their sleep, had they bedded down in town.
The Weave provides for its own.
Ammon Nor lay across an open field from the woods although it was no longer visible. Instead, a massive wall of fog loomed up before them midway between the edge of the woods and the city wall. Goose bumps formed on Mira’s arms as she approached, for the fog was unnatural, like some menacing beast waiting to devour them. It pulsed with an orange glow in the distance, as if fires were burning within its bowels. As she plunged into the cold, clammy mist, she couldn’t help but feel as if they were rushing into the jaws of the Abyss.
Chapter 33
Taren slowly came awake in the night, emerging from a deep sleep filled with half-glimpsed nightmares. A bell was tolling incessantly somewhere in the city. For a moment, he panicked, feeling crushed in and unable to see in the surrounding darkness. Then as he shifted around, hay scratched his cheek, and the familiar smell of it filled his nostrils. A staggering sense of homesickness gripped him for a long moment, but with the bell’s tolling and distant cries, he remembered where he was and swiftly collected his thoughts.
The illness that had gripped him finally receded after he slept through much of that day, his sleep blessedly dreamless the past night. He’d gone over to the inn for an afternoon meal then returned to the loft to sleep some more, planning to be on the road to Llantry first thing in the morning. However, that apparently wasn’t to be, for the city’s alarm bell was sounding.
Is the Nebaran army attacking the city? The talk earlier had them still a couple days to the south.
Startled curses followed by the clatter of equipment and jingling armor interrupted his thoughts. The party of adventurers down below in the stable were making a racket as they scrambled from their bedrolls and hurriedly gathered their gear.
“The city is under attack,” someone said. “Time we get our arses out of here.”
“Nebaran bastards must’ve made a move in the night. You see anything out there, Rizich?”
“Nay, can’t see a damned thing. There be a fog, thick enough I could almost slice it with me axe.”
“Let’s be off, then. I’ve a bad feeling about this.”
The voices grumbled agreement. With a final clamor, the adventurers departed the barn.
Taren had a bad feeling about the alarm as well. The bell abruptly stopped, and the sudden silence was punctuated only by his heavy breathing. Listening, he could hear distant cries of pain or terror along with the clash of steel.
That group has the right idea—time to move.
He made sure everything was stowed in his pack and quickly clambered down from the hayloft. Horses neighed and snorted, shifting around nervously in the darkness.
Taren stumbled out of the stables and into a wall of fog so thick he could barely make out his hand when held out directly in front of him. He tried to get his bearings then moved toward where he thought the inn was. A startled shriek was abruptly silenced not too far off.
He shuddered, pulling his cloak tighter around himself and wondering if Elyas was out there fighting. He said a quick prayer to Sabyl that his cousin would be all right and not fall victim to whatever treachery was afoot.
When Taren shifted to his second sight, hoping to better discern the inn’s location, he gasped. The fog was magical in nature, oozing around him with a sickly gray aura. He could feel its spell dragging on him, trying to coax him to return to his bedroll. The devastating nature of the plan became clear, for the fog not only concealed the sneak attack of the Nebarans, but it caused a deep lethargy. Fortunately, the alarm has been sounded. He just hoped it was in time for an effective defense to be mustered.
Amber auras swirled through the mist as he extended his senses outward, the shapes of the Nebaran attackers and those startlingly few defenders rising up to meet them. He sensed the majority of fighting around the military encampment just east of town, and a desperate pitched battle was taking shape. A rough estimate put several hundred Nebarans in Ammon Nor, sowing murder and chaos, cutting down anyone in the streets, soldier or civilian, and even going door to door to carry out their bloody deeds.
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