Authors: Thomas M. Reid
was open ground. In order to skirt the water, the group would have to move into the open, but that wasn’t what concerned the two men. Pilos started to ask what was wrong, but they both shook it off and motioned for everyone to keep moving.
The six of them navigated the perimeter of the water and ducked back into the greenery, moving as quietly as they could. At one point, Edilus motioned for them all to freeze, then he slipped away, so silent as he disappeared that the young priest wasn’t certain he was touching the ground at all.
They waited, no one moving, and heard a voice not far ahead of them. A second voice joined the first, and there was the sound of a conversation, though the discussion was muted enough that Pilos could not makerit out. The longer they crouched in wait, the faster his heart beat.
Easy, Hetta said. You’ll send yourself to an early grave fretting like that.
Pilos was too worried to answer the elderly woman.
Edilus returned, motioning for the rest of them to follow him. Pilos got to his feet and kept close behind the druid as he led them the rest of the way through the dense foliage. They reached the edge of the protective screen of greenery and saw that a peach orchard stood beyond, the ground open and more visible and the trees aligned in nice, even rows. No one seemed to be near, and the light of dawn was enough to reveal a wall on the far side.
“Sets of steps lead up to the top in various places along the wall,” Edilus whispered to them, “and they are being watched by guards. But right there,” he said, pointing toward the section that Pilos and the others could see, “the spot is vacant. No one watches.
If we can get there without being seen, I can get to the top and we will be out.”
“And if we can’t get there without being seen?” Horial asked, eying the druid. “What then?”
“Then we fight,” the druid answered.
For a moment, no one said anything, then Horial shrugged. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Making sure that all six of them were ready, Edilus stepped out of the undergrowth and moved into the orchard. The druid crept from tree to tree, looking in every direction, watching for guards. The rest of the men trailed out behind him, using the trees for cover as he did. Dew coated the coarse grass growing in the orchard, glistening in the early morning light.
Pilos felt his hands shaking in apprehension, worrying that at any moment, someone would spot them. He kept waiting for a guard patrolling the area to come into view, to see him or the other men, and shout a warning to others.
When the young priest was halfway across the open space, as far from the protective canopy of the bushes as from the wall, Edilus signaled for everyone to halt and stay low. Pilos hit the ground, his heart thumping. He tried to look around to see what had startled the druid, but he didn’t see anyone else in sight. Finally, Edilus rose up and continued, and the others rose with him.
Somehow, they all reached the wall without raising the alarm.
As they gathered together in a clump, Edilus produced a small charm, something woven of bones, feathers, and green vines, and he began to murmur as he moved it in intricate patterns. Behind him, Pilos heard the sound of ripping earth and snapping
twigs, and he turned in time to see a rippling wall of plant growth rise up from the ground. The barricade of greenery twisted, wrapped, and thickened as it climbed, forming a nearly solid wall of protection against the rest of the orchard. It stopped growing when it was a good ten feet high, and it stretched between two of the closest peach trees, intertwining with their lowest branches. It formed an enclosure perhaps twenty feet long and about five feet wide with both ends open.
“That ought to keep us hidden for a few moments longer,” Edilus said, examining the wall.
“Can you climb it?” Pilos asked. Until he had reached the wall, he was never certain that he might escape. Standing at the base of it, though, he began to feel some sense of hope.
“Yes,” Edilus said, then he dropped to all fours and his physical shape began to alter. As Pilos watched, mesmerized, the druid elongated, his clothing and equipment absorbed into his form. His skin turned green and scaly. In the span of a breath, Edilus had become a lizard perhaps four feet long, not including his tail.
The lizard turned and scampered up the wall to the top. Once he was there, Edilus reverted to his human form and stood looking down at the men below him with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
That’s twice now he’s smiled, Pilos thought. Maybe he’s human after all.
The druid yanked a coil of rope from his shoulder and tied one end of it around his waist. Then he motioned for Pilos to start up. “You first,” he said, sitting down and bracing his feet as best as he could. “You’re the lightest, and you can help hold it for the rest of them.”
Pilos took hold of the rope and began to haul himself up, bracing his feet against the stone to help guide himself. It was not easy, for he was not adept at scaling walls, but he struggled to the top. Once he managed to swing his leg over and scramble to a sitting position, Edilus instructed him to sit behind him, grab hold of the druid’s belt, and lean backward. Pilos hurried to comply, and once he was in position, the others began to clamber up the rope, too.
Once all six of them had attained the top of the wall, they prepared to lower themselves over the other side.
Horial, Adyan, and Grolo made it down easily, and Quill prepared to work his way down the wall next.
“Hurry,” the druid hissed, looking back over his shoulder into the Generon. “Guards are coming. Go now, before we are spotted.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” a familiar voice called from nearby.
Feeling his stomach turn somersaults, Pilos’s gaze was pulled toward a movement to his side. Junce Roundface was on top of the wall, walking toward the three of them. He must have appeared there magically, for a moment before, they had been alone. Junce had a crossbow in his hands, and he was smiling, though the expression had a definite lack of joviality.
A scuffling of boots in the opposite direction caught the priest’s attention next. Looking that way, the Abreeant saw Laithe strolling toward the three men. She held a wand in her hands.
The wizard saw Pilos looking at her and smiled at him. “Looks like the rat is not quite out of the trap, yet, eh?” she said. “I owe you one,” she added, not smiling any longer. “For Lak and Borth.”
As the two thugs closed the distance, narrowing the gap, Pilos looked back and forth between the two of them in dismay. Beside him, Quill got to his feet and seemed prepared to pull his sword free, but Junce steadied his crossbow and sighted down it.
“I wouldn’t,” the assassin warned. “You’re not fast enough.”
The strum of a bow firing sounded from street level and a crossbow bolt zipped upward at Junce. The missile flew true and struck Junce in the ribs, right under his arm, but it bounced away. Grolo, who had fired the shot, swore.
Junce chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d actually get up here just so you could take target practice, did you?” and quick as a cat, he turned and returned the shot, sending the bolt right at Grolo’s chest. The bolt struck true and sank into the dwarf’s flesh, causing him to grunt.
As Pilos watched in horror, Grolo wavered on his feet for a moment, staring at the fletching on the end of the bolt, and his own crossbow slipped from his fingers and he sat down hard.
“Waukeen,” the dwarf muttered as he tipped over, slumping to the ground.
Junce’s shot had been quick, precise, but it had taken his attention away from the three men in front of him. That was all the opening anyone needed, and all around Pilos, chaos ensued.
Edilus freed the rope from his waist and was on his feet in an instant. Yanking his scimitar free, he turned and advanced toward Junce, not giving the assassin time to reload. The other man smiled again, tossed his empty weapon aside, and drew his own blade. At the same moment, Junce put something in his mouth and produced a loud, shrill whistle.
A signal, Pilos realized in dismay. Summoning the guards.
“Go on!” Quill said to the priest, leaping to his feet. “Get down!” And the mercenary was turning away, drawing steel, facing off against Laithe.
Pilos glanced around, seeing everyone moving at once, and hesitated. Adyan and Horial were both shooting at the wizard, but like Junce, the missiles bounced off. She seemed more concerned by Quill’s approach, however, and backed away as he tried to close the gap. Laithe brought up her wand and aimed it at the mercenary, and a blob of something sickly green streaked forth from it, fanning out until it was a spray. The droplets showered over Quill, who arched his back in pain and cried out, dropping to one knee.
Pilos winced, realizing the caustic substance must have been an acid, and wanted to go to the man, to soothe his pain with a healing touch. But Quill wasn’t done yet. Staggering, he managed to rise, and Laithe leveled her wand to give him another dose.
She wasn’t quite fast enough.
Quill threw himself at the woman, wrapping his arms around her just as her magical device burped forth another blob of acid. Quill smacked into the blob head-first, causing it to dribble on himself and spatter back onto Laithe. She screamed as she stumbled back, Quill still clinging to her.
In a dual cry of pain, the pair went over the side of the wall to the street below.
Horrified, Pilos could only watch the two combatants disappear. Then he realized that the two mercenaries were yelling at him.
“Come on!” Horial yelled. “Just drop!”
Pilos glanced over at where Edilus was still
fighting with Junce, and he saw a stricken look upon the assassin’s face. The priest realized that Junce had seen Laithe go down, too. In his distress, he did not keep his guard up, and Edilus managed a lucky strike, cutting into the man’s sword shoulder.
With a primal cry of pain and anger, Junce swung back at the druid, but his attack was awkward. Edilus bounced out of the way. With a curse, the assassin said something and vanished.
A crossbow bolt whizzed past Pilos’s ear, and he saw then that guards had drawn near the base of the wall on the inside of the Generon grounds. He noticed more guards running down the street from both directions along the wall, closing in on the fugitives’ position.
Jolted into action, Pilos tried to figure a way to lower himself down, but nothing prominent was available to anchor the rope. Just when he thought he might have to hang over the side and jump, Edilus was there. Thankfully, Pilos handed him the rope.
“No time,” the druid said as another bolt flew past them. Reaching out, Edilus grabbed Pilos by the collar and shoved, and the two of them tumbled over the side of the wall together.
Vambran watched the waves crash against the rocks below him, squinting as the morning sun made the water glint. The smell of salt carried on the fresh breeze was strong, and the humidity was high, but the mercenary didn’t mind. It felt clean to him.
Below him, among the rocks, Arbeenok prowled about, scooping up shellfish for a morning meal. The druid had a bundle of them already, and Vambran
doubted the two of them could ever finish what was in that bulging satchel, but then his stomach rumbled and he grinned at the thought of such a feast. He had been eating nothing but dried meat and breadwhen he wasn’t being fed bugs by the druids, of courseand looked forward to a different sort of meal. The majestic scenery coupled with the warm morning was almost enough to let the mercenary forget all the difficulties of the last few days.
Almost.
The two of them had traveled west and south ftom Reth, speeding along the shoreline, until they reached a point of land that stuck way out from the coast into the Reach. They weren’t far from where Lady’s Favor had gone down, Vambran had realized, noting the miles and miles of beach below them as Arbeenok had swooped closer to land. The lieutenant wasn’t sure what prompted his companion to alight on the outcropping of rock, but it seemed as good a place to start as any.
The next question, of course, was how to travel below the water effectively.
Vambran considered the possibilities, then settled down to pray to Waukeen while Arbeenok continued to gather food. The mercenary’s thoughts were troubled, though, for he didn’t merely want to ask for his goddess’s blessings in the form of divine power. He needed more than just spells. He needed some sense of understanding, some feeling of peace, for all of the horrors he had endured in the last few days. A tiny part of him wanted some answers from Waukeen, to understand why she would allow those tragedies to pile up around him.
Rather than dive right in and begin asking for solace, Vambran started slowly, settling into a
meditative trance. For a long time, he felt nothing but a growing sensation of tranquility, listening to the waves crashing against the rocky beach and the gulls screaming as they circled overhead. He imagined the sun bathing his face as his goddess’s glorious radiance showering down upon him, and he found a center. He began to look inward, for he often found that the best answers to his most spiritual questions welled up from his heart, from his own sense of faith. He hoped that would be the case that morning.
Why? was the question that had been plaguing Vambran. Why me? Why has all of this been thrust upon me? Did I in some way fail you? Did you want to see my life take such a turn for some reason I cannot fathom at the moment? Is this a punishment for some transgression?
Once the question was clear in his mind, Vambran began to mull it. Free of the guilt and the anger, able to draw back and examine every aspect of the circumstances with a calm eye, Vambran felt the understanding flood into him at last.
Strength.
You’re not punishing me, Vambran realized, accepting what he trusted his goddess was telling You’re asking me to take the burden because you believe I can.
That realization, that true understanding at last of what all of it had been about, flooded through Vambran like a wave of pure joy. He felt the tears flow then, not tears of sorrow for his losses, but tears of unbridled love for Waukeen.