Shadow of a Dark Queen (65 page)

The man's eyes narrowed and he said, “Over my cold body.”

Erik said, “Look, I do not want to fight you, but no one is going to build ships for the Emerald Queen. Do you understand?”

“Man, it's all I have!” said the builder.

Erik pointed with his sword to the distant bridge of white and green moving slowly toward them and said, “They will take all you have. They will rape your women and kill you, or make you slaves and force you to build ships for them, and they will sail them to my home and kill me and mine.”

“What would you have us do?” the builder demanded, as much a plea as a challenge.

“Take a boat and sail away, friend,” said Erik. “Get your sons and daughters and get away while you still have time. Go to the City of the Serpent River and hold there as long as you can, but if you don't leave now, I will kill you if I must.”

Biggo and two other men came running up behind Erik, and the sight of five armed men proved too much for the shipbuilder. He nodded and said, “We need an hour.”

Erik shook his head. “I can give you five minutes, then I start burning.” He saw a small sailing boat anchored in the estuary. “Is that yours?”

“No, it's my neighbor's.”

“Then steal it, and go.”

Erik motioned for the men to spread out, and as Biggo passed, one of the sons shouted, “No, Father! I'll not let them burn our home!”

Before Biggo could turn, the young man struck him from behind with a pry bar, bringing it straight across the large man's neck. Erik cried, “No!” but was too late. The loud crack told him Biggo's neck had been broken.

Roo charged the young man, bashing him in the face with his shield, knocking him backwards into his brothers and uncles. The young man lost the pry bar, which clattered away across the stones, and Erik looked down at the motionless form of Biggo.

The shipwright and his family stood motionless as Roo stood over the boy, his sword poised to end his life. Erik stepped over and grabbed his friend, pulling him away. “Why?” he demanded, as he leaned over the now terrorized youth. Grabbing him by the tunic, he lifted him by main force with one arm, until he was nose to nose with him. “Tell me why!” he screamed into his face.

The boy's face contorted with terror. Then Erik heard a woman's voice say, “Don't hurt him.”

Erik turned and saw a woman, who stood with tears streaming down her face. “He's my only son.”

Erik shouted, “He killed my friend! Why shouldn't I kill him now?”

“He's all I have,” said the woman.

Erik felt the anger drain away. He pushed the boy toward his mother and said, “Go.” The boy took a half step, then Erik screamed, “Now!”

Turning to Roo, he said, “Burn it all!”

Roo carried a torch and hurried into the home of the family, who stood watching helplessly. Erik said, “Get to that boat and sail away. Otherwise you will all die.”

The father nodded and led his band away, and Erik knelt by Biggo. Rolling the big man over, he saw his eyes wide. Suddenly he heard laughter and turned to find Nakor standing behind. “He looks surprised.”

Erik suddenly heard himself laugh, for it was true. No anger, or pain, but amazement was etched on the face of the big man.

Erik stood. “I wonder if the Goddess of Death is everything Biggo expected her to be.” Then he turned and saw Roo emerging from the building, smoke coming through the door after him.

“Come on,” Erik said. “We're almost out of time.”

Roo looked across the distant river and saw the bridge was now arching upward toward the midpoint of the river. Sounds of battle, screams and the clash of arms, rang from the north, and Erik knew the wall was likely breached or would be soon as the defenders ran in terror from the magic of the Emerald Queen and her army.

From the far end of the estuary, clouds of smoke rose, heralding the work done by Calis and his company. Sho Pi and two other men raced to the next building and set it ablaze, while Erik and Roo went down a series of stone steps to a low assembly point, a series of wooden sheds on a rocky point. These they quickly started burning. Nakor hurried ahead.

Reaching the quayside, they discovered the fire had spread to the other side of the street and was growing in strength. Erik ran along until he came to the next construction site and started setting fires.

As he moved back toward the main street, Erik noticed a flood of people running along, many carrying bundles, and he knew the enemy was somewhere inside the city. Roo tugged on Erik's sleeve and he said, “What?”

Roo pointed and said, “It's the Captain!”

Through the gathering press of men and women, Erik caught sight of Calis, Nakor, and de Loungville. Then they were swallowed up by the crowd.

“Head for the harbor!” Erik called out, in case any other of his band was nearby.

He and Roo made their way as best they could, Erik using his bulk and strength to push through the throng, Roo staying close behind him. He lost sight of the others.

Down a side street they overtook de Loungville. “Where's the Captain?” shouted Erik.

“Somewhere ahead up there.”

Erik noticed de Loungville had picked up a cut to his arm, and had hastily wrapped it. “You all right?”

De Loungville said, “I'll live for the next few minutes.”

“Where's everyone going?” shouted Roo.

“Same place we are,” answered de Loungville. “The docks. The city's about to fall and everyone is going to be looking for a boat. We've just got to get one before anyone else.”

Roo glanced over his shoulder. “At least we got the shipyards ablaze.”

De Loungville said, “At least we did that.”

Then it started to rain.

E
rik turned
.

“The fires!”

“What do you expect us to do?” the sergeant asked as increasing numbers of people swarmed by him.

Suddenly Calis appeared, forcing his way back to where the two of them stood. Then Nakor and Sho Pi were at his side. “We have to go back!” shouted the little man.

“What can we do?” demanded de Loungville.

“We have to keep the fires burning,” said Nakor. As if to taunt them, the rain increased in urgency, turning from a light sprinkle to a more insistent tattoo. “If we get them hot enough, only the worst storm will put them out.”

Calis nodded. They started moving toward the fires, and Erik looked around for Roo. In the faint hope he could be heard over the din, Erik shouted in the King's Tongue, “Back to the estuary! Back to the fires!”

Whatever else might be taking place in the city, there was a full-scale riot brewing near the waterfront. Soldiers sent to keep order were joining in the
general run for the ships. That the harbor mouth was now jammed by the hulks and only shallow-draft boats could manage to slip out seemed to be of no concern to the citizenry of Maharta.

Ships' crews tried their best to fend off citizens seeking a haven, and several captains raised sail to put some distance between the docks and their craft. A half-dozen horsemen rode furiously down the street, and men and women screamed as they attempted to get out of the way.

Erik shouted, “Get the horses!” and as the lead animal shied at the press of humanity before it, Erik leaped and took a hold on the arm of the rider, catching him off guard. Erik found surprising strength as he yanked the man from his saddle, given how beat-up he felt. With one crushing blow, he knocked the man unconscious, throwing him to the ground. It was probably a death sentence, as the crowd would trample the man, but Erik had no sympathy for someone who would ride down women and children to make good his own escape.

The horse's eyes were white with fear and its nostrils flared. It tried to back up and felt the horse behind, and without hesitation it kicked out. The flying hooves caught an innocent trader carrying his last half-dozen jars of valuable unguents, sending them flying through the air to smash on the stones as the stout man was knocked almost senseless. Erik spared a moment to grab the man and haul him to his feet with one hand while gripping hard on the horse's reins with the other. He shouted at the merchant, “Stay on your feet, man. If you fall, you die.”

The man nodded, and Erik let him go, having no more time to spend. He mounted and saw that Calis
and the others had followed his example, save for Nakor, who was being attacked by the one remaining rider. Erik kicked hard at the flank of his animal, and the frightened gelding leaped forward. Erik's sure hands guided him through the press to where Nakor struggled to avoid being skewered by a scimitar. Erik took out his own blade and with a single roundhouse blow took the rider out of his saddle.

Nakor sprang to the now-empty saddle and said, “Thank you. I grabbed the reins before I thought of how I was to get him to give up his horse.”

Erik urged his animal past Nakor's and took off up the street after Calis and de Loungville. The two remaining riders seemed content to let them keep the horses as long as they were allowed to keep their own, and did not try to interfere with their passing.

The bulk of the horses parted the swarming mob that would have swept away men on foot. Once they were back on the street leading to the fires, the crowd thinned out. The rain was steady, and as they rounded a corner alongside the estuary, they saw the fires were beginning to abate.

Erik kept as close to the flames as possible, as there he had the least trouble passing the throng running through the street. The horse continued to shy from the flames, but Erik's firm scat and short reins kept the animal under control.

At the end of the estuary, where the first fire was set, the large ship's cradle and hull were almost completely intact, save for some scorching, and the once brisk fire was now guttering. Erik saw an abandoned house across the street and rode there. Leaping from the saddle, he swatted the horse on the rump, sending it away.

Running inside the house, Erik found furnishings turned every which way. Looters, perhaps, thought Erik, or a family desperate to clear out their few valuables before the fire reached them. He grabbed a chair and ran across the broad street, to the top of the jetty that overlooked the fire and tossed the wooden chair into the flames below. He made several quick trips across the rainy street and every loose piece of furniture made its way into the fire. As Nakor predicted, once reaching a certain heat, the fire grew, despite the rain, which seemed to be leveling off at a steady drizzle rather than a serious downpour.

In the next house, Erik found more loose flammables and threw them into the growing fire. At last he felt certain the cradle and hull would stay alight, but as he looked down the quayside, his heart sank. His was the only fire burning strongly enough to withstand the rain, and there was only so much one man could do.

He hurried to the next fire, which was almost extinguished, and found a store across the street. The large wooden doors had been forced open, one hanging from a single hinge while the other lay on the street. Erik picked up the one door and carried it to the edge of the street overlooking the shipyard below. He tossed the wooden door as far as he could and it sailed down to land on the edge of the sputtering flames. If anything, it banked the fire even more.

Erik swore as he hurried back to the shop. The front of the store was almost intact; whoever had pried open the doors had taken one look and run off. The store was a chandlery, with nothing of value to a looter. Erik hurried through and in the rear he found yards of sail. More, he found scaling pitch in barrels. He quickly rolled one out through the ruined storefront, and across the street. There he picked up the barrel.
He threw it so it landed squarely on the flames. The barrel struck with a satisfying crack and quickly the pitch began to burn. Erik took a step away and then a fountain of flame sprang skyward.

Nakor ran up and said, “What did you find? That was a good ‘whoosh'!”

“Pitch,” answered Erik. “Inside.” He turned and the little man followed after. Nakor scurried around, looking at everything he could find. He came away with several smaller kegs and put them aside out front, then hurried inside. A moment later he came out, stooped over, pushing a barrel as Erik was returning from putting a second barrel on the flame.

Erik paused and turned to look at the western sky. The bridge of light was nearing the apex of its arc, the Saaur and mercenaries at the leading edge standing hundreds of feet above the water.

Nakor said, “Wish I had a trick, boy. If I could make that thing vanish”—he snapped his fingers—“that would be something, watching them all fall into the river.”

Erik got another barrel and side by side they rolled them down the cobbles, toward the third builder's yard. “Why doesn't some magician around here think of that?” he asked, nearly panting from the exertion.

“Battle magic is difficult,” said Nakor as he pushed the barrel along. “Magician has a trick. Another magician counters the trick. Third magician counters the second. Fourth magician tries to help the second. They're all standing around trying to best one another and the army comes along and
chops them up. Very dangerous and not many magicians willing to try.

“Surprise is the thing.” He paused as he reached the ramp leading down to the lower landing where the main building of the shipyard was ablaze, and let the barrel roll away with a guiding kick. “That trick there would be very easy to counter, if you gave a powerful magician the time to study it. Lots of Pantathians working together on that bridge. Lots of serpent priests concentrating together. Very difficult Easy to disrupt. Like unraveling a bag. You pull the right thread at the seam, and it all falls apart.” Erik looked at him expectantly. Nakor grinned. “I don't know how. But Pug of Stardock or maybe some Tsurani Great Ones could do it.”

Erik closed his eyes a moment, then said, “Well, if they're not going to show up to help, I guess we have to do it ourselves. Come on!”