The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (50 page)

Vaun shuffled to within twenty feet of the scaffold. He studied its sides, trying to find the door that led under it. In horror, he realized he was on the wrong side, and Rush was only moments from death!

Desperately, the Swordsman pushed through the crowd. He ignored the insults people shot him as he shoved past them. He glanced hurriedly at the scaffold in time to see the executioner move away from Rush. He paused, aghast at the sight before him.

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Rush stood with his hands tied behind him, looking at a spot just over the heads in the crowd fifteen feet below him. Despite the bruises and cuts on his body, he stood proudly erect, defiant of hi
s impending death, his ears deaf to the execution drum roll. He didn’t feel the rough cord of the rope around his neck. He didn’t feel any fear of his upcoming death, always accepting that his time would eventually come. This trait was a rare one for an elf, as they were a rather long-lived race. Rush himself was nearly two centuries old and still considered young.

Nevertheless, he allowed himself a small smile of triumph at the thought that, despite his capture, he’d still succeeded. He only hoped his companions remained in the city long enough to reap the reward his sacrifice would bring. Like Quiris had said earlier this morning, he expected his friends to attempt a rescue, and he also believed they would not succeed, just as the monarch did. The security surrounding this event was too good. Of course, people had said the same thing about rescuing someone from the prisons and stealing from the treasury, but even Dart would bet against the luck one would need to defy Mahal’s reputation so many times in a row.

No, Rush prepared himself to die, whispering prayers to the Great God in thanks for his life and the opportunities he’d been given to serve, and wished only that his companions had not yet fled the city. They could surely gain access to his body before the guards destroyed it, and then they could continue their journey with a weapon to use against the Dark Wizard. Resigned now and feeling victorious, Rush almost welcomed the noose around his neck. He’d done what he was called to do, and it was time for him to move on to another place.

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The drums built to a crescendo as Dart strung his bow and fitted an arrow with a quarter-moon-shaped head and two extra feathers to help stabilize its flight. From three blocks away on a rooftop, he drew the arrow back until those goose feathers tickled his nose. Holding the bow steady, he took careful aim and waited.

A gust of wind sprang up, causing the elf to have to adjust his aim. He squinted, bringing the fibers of the hanging rope into sharp focus. Distractedly, he admired the closeness of the weave. It was a strong rope but would part easily under the honed edge of his arrowhead.

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Building steadily, the drums rose in volume until the snow vibrated on the ground. Just as the wood under Rush’s feet reverberated the noise, the drummers pounded one strong beat and stopped. On that beat, the hooded executioner pulled a lever, releasing the trapdoor.

The noose around his neck grew taut an instant before Dart’s arrow sliced neatly through it, plunging Rush toward the spikes waiting below him. He faintly heard wood breaking; then Vaun appeared, catching him mere inches from the foot-long steel spikes.

“’Bout time you got here,” he said as Vaun lowered him safely to the ground and cut his bonds.

The Swordsman handed the elf his shortsword and drew his own. “’Bout time you told us where you were.”

They both heard the shouts and curses as the realization of what had happened passed through the crowd. Before they could turn around, three guardsmen appeared in the doorway Vaun had broken through. Both could see more guards behind those. Vaun’s side began to itch mightily.

Leaping eagerly to the attack, the guards charged Vaun and Rush. The space under the scaffold was large enough for almost half a dozen of the black and gold dressed guards, but the instruments of death scattered around hindered their movements. Unfortunately, they also hindered Vaun’s and Rush’s attacks as well.

Vaun jumped to his right out of the way of a guard’s lunge and slashed at the man’s back. He knew he’d cut the man but couldn’t feel it through the cold, dead steel of the shortsword as he did through his Vaulka. Although that feeling disturbed him, he found he missed it terribly. He could only rely on the jarring impact of steel on flesh or actually seeing it to know whether or not he’d hit his target. Since he rarely ever saw his blade make contact with anything, he wasn’t sure how well he’d survive this battle.

The guard gasped in pain and crashed into a shelf stacked with hammers and nails used to repair the scaffold.

Rush sliced one guard’s knee and rolled easily out of another’s path. He ignored the stabbing pain that brought to the wounds on his back, concentrating instead on staying alive long enough to escape. There didn’t seem to be any way for that to happen, though, as a host of guards blocked the only door. Suddenly, the wall behind him exploded outward.

Flinching under an overhead strike that would’ve split him in half had it not been for the low ceiling, Vaun charged with Rush through the hole Merdel had made. Glad he’d listened to Merdel about the swords, Vaun grabbed Rush and yanked him to the left, flinging them both headlong into the dazzled crowd.

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Quiris fumed. Never before had the same people thwarted his rule so many times. That elf had given no information about how many companions he had or what they wanted, no matter how they’d tortured him. He knew Merdel had wanted Gwyndar’s Wand but couldn’t think why. After all, the bearded mage had scoffed at it and said it held no power. Now it seemed as if a dozen or more people risked their lives to save this elf, and all for a completely useless wand. Once they were all captured and executed, Quiris would have to get Culvis to reexamine that wand. The fool wizard should be here now to combat Merdel’s magic, but he was far too squeamish to tolerate a hanging. His guard should still be able to capture these renegades without him, though.

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Merdel created another bright flash of light and thunderclap in the middle of the startled crowd. People scattered, screaming, hampering the efforts of the guardsmen who tried to restore order and capture their prisoner. Smiling in satisfaction, for he’d seen Vaun and Rush safely reach the street they needed, the mage bolted down an alley and headed for the stables. He hoped the Swordsman could remember the route Thorne had drilled into him the night before.

Rush finally gained his own footing and shrugged off Vaun’s grip. The youth had dragged him down half a dozen alleys before the elf could stagger to his feet. He and Vaun raced down a narrow street toward where Drath and Thorne waited.

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Shoving his guards in all directions, Emperor Quiris demanded the prisoner and his rescuers be captured and killed at once. Those who let them escape would find their own necks in a noose. Urged on by the emperor’s threats, which they knew not to be taken lightly, the guardsmen charged after the fleeing comrades. As his soldiers finally obeyed his orders, Quiris cursed the arrogance that had allowed him to neglect placing guards in the other squares and at the ferry at the same time that he justified it by recalling that no one had ever escaped the wrath of the Mahalian throne.

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All over the five blocks surrounding the Mahalian Gallows, large puffs of smoke and explosions sounded at odd intervals, marking the springing of another of Merdel’s carefully laid spell traps. As another flash of light flared brightly, followed by a loud boom and billow of smoke, Merdel smiled and slowed to a walk. He had left the immediate area of the courtyard, and running would look suspicious. Nevertheless, he walked briskly on toward the stables, raising his hood and trying to hide his agitation from the other guards stationed throughout the city. Even if they weren’t on alert to find him, a man who looked to be avoiding notice usually attracted their attention.

Despite the large number of people who had gathered to watch the elf’s execution, the bulk of the Mahalian population had carried on with the day’s business. This allowed the companions to converge on the stables lost amongst a crowd of thousands, but also slowed them down. Of course, it slowed down their pursuit, too, but the people more readily cleared a path for the black and gold of Mahal’s guard than they did for a few ragged outsiders.

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After loosing the shaft that had kept Rush from hanging, Dart had fired a rapid succession of the rest of his arrows. They landed sporadically, confusing the guardsmen as to where the archer hid and how many they faced. Even without aiming, the elf had wounded two guards, one severely. He then hastily unstrung his bow and all but leapt off the roof. Concealing his weapons under his cloak, the brown-haired elf walked first hurriedly and then more slowly as he moved farther away from the bedlam of the courtyard.

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Vaun gritted his teeth as yet another cart blocked his escape. Waiting impatiently for it to pass, which seemed to take an eternity, the Swordsman made sure no one was on his trail. Feeling wetness beneath his clothes, he glanced down and noticed his wound had opened. He pulled his cloak more securely around his body to hide the growing spot of blood along his side.

He and Rush had separated once they’d reached the crowded merchant district, and though they’d tried to stay within sight of each other he now had no idea where the blond elf was. He could have been captured again, could, like Vaun, be held up behind one of the many caravans that took up most of the broad avenues, or he could already be at the stables. Hoping the elf was safe, Vaun pressed on after the carts passed.

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Merdel entered the flow of traffic from an unoccupied side street and rapidly disappeared beneath the waves of people. He glanced about every now and then in an effort to catch a glimpse of one of his companions but saw only strangers. He trusted they could all avoid the regular patrols, and thanked the Great God again for the arrogance given to all Mahalian rulers. If Quiris had placed extra guards in the other districts or at the ferry landings, they would never escape. But he hadn’t, as usual, so the guards and alarm messengers from the execution courtyard would have to carry out the monarch’s wishes by themselves.

He knew all the city guards had probably been told to keep an eye out for him, and counted on the masses of people to hide his identity. He had deliberately chosen cloaks of a very common make and color. This spreading out of the party members was the most difficult part of his plan, but also the most essential, and he prayed it would work as he pushed past a large group of dancers entertaining a larger group of onlookers.

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Thorne shifted from foot to foot in nervousness. He held the reins of one horse in one tight fist and two in the other. The crowd thinned in the stable area, allowing the dwarf to see far down the street. Though he kept careful lookout, he’d seen none of his friends appear. Desperately, he glanced toward the wharf where the ferry waited. They had only a few minutes more.

Pacing himself and the three horses back and forth, Drath tried to keep from screaming. So far, word of the attack hadn’t reached this far, but a few people had noticed Merdel’s fireworks a few minutes earlier. They had mistaken it for a celebration of the death of the criminal. Drath had resisted the urge to laughingly tell them otherwise, but even if he had they might not have cared. Mahals rarely took an interest in things not directly happening to them, so the display had gone mostly unnoticed. Still, if the others didn’t hurry soon, they’d miss the ferry, and another wasn’t available for a while after that. They’d surely be caught if they had to wait.

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Rush nearly cried out in excitement and almost broke into a run when he passed casually out of the merchant district and into the stables. He caught sight of Thorne immediately, who visibly repressed the desire to wave frantically at him. Unhurried though impatient, and shivering under the gaze of a guard who had watched him enter the courtyard, the elf strolled toward the waiting dwarf.

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Merdel spied Rush emerging past the gates separating the main city and the stables, and noticed also the cold look of the guard who watched him. He didn’t look like he recognized Rush, so Merdel stopped mouthing the spell that would’ve knocked him out. Sighing with relief, for if he’d cast the spell he might have passed out himself, the wizard headed for Drath waiting on the opposite side of the street. He, too, walked as slowly as his nerves would allow and kept glancing back over his shoulder, searching for signs of pursuit and the other two.

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Vaun was glancing off to his left when he bumped into something rather solid. He had to raise his head to look into the helmeted face of one of the town guard. Dumbstruck and suddenly terrified, though for some strange reason his side didn’t itch, he stood with his mouth hanging stupidly open, waiting for the man to arrest him.

The guard frowned down at him. “You should watch where you’re going. If you trip and fall, you could be trampled to death.” He straightened his uniform haughtily. “Not to mention get in my way.”

“Yes, sir.” Vaun tried to sound like a simple Ramener who wouldn’t be familiar with such a large crowd and resisted the urge to jerk his cloak around to better conceal his wound and sword. He hoped it already hid them adequately. “I’ll be more careful from now on. Thank you.”