A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [87]
"Close the door!" he shouted, the moment he was through. "Close that door!"
Three armaragors sprang to do just that, snarling in fear at the cold smiles of the snakes rising to eye them, just outside. The door boomed shut, and chains raided as the door-bar was slammed down into place and its pins thrown to keep its stay chains in place.
"What now, Lord?" one of the knights asked as he turned away from the door, just a shade wearily.
"They're going along to that low window!" an armsman shouted fearfully, watching dark shadows surge past the windows of the gloomy hall they stood in. "They'll get in!"
"Then we'll outrun them," a grizzled armaragor grunted. "At least they're slower than boar!"
"Where's Loushoond?" someone shouted. "And Ornentar?"
"They got in by another door," someone said curtly. "Loushoond lost most of his bodyguard doing it."
"Any orders, Lord Tarlagar?" the armaragor by the door asked again.
"I-I don't know," the baron replied in a quavering voice. When the knights turned to look at him sharply, he pointed ahead into the darkness.
Three passages led into the hall they were standing in-and down the right-hand way armaragors were advancing, with swords out and determined looks on their faces.
When Tarlagar's armsmen moved to get a good look at the oncoming warriors, those knights broke into a run. "For Bloodblade!" they shouted. "For Aglirta!"
The baron sobbed and ran wildly down one of the other passages. His knights and armsmen looked at each other, shrugged-and burst into their own clanking runs, after him.
Bloodblade's charging warriors howled and ran faster, seeking to catch up to Tarlagar's men before they vanished from sight in the cluttered, darkened palace.
From somewhere not far off in the many dark chambers, there came a sudden roar of shouts and screams and the clash of swords as another band of Bloodblade's swords met with the forces of the Barons Loushoond and Ornentar-and began to hack them down.
Meanwhile
"Up, Flower of the Delcampers. Aglirta has immediate need of your watchfulness and keen bardic memory-to say nothing of that scepter you're clutching, too."
He knew that deep voice.
Flaeros rolled over to stare up at the man who must have just saved his life.
The Regent of Aglirta stood as tall and darkly handsome as ever, though his clothes were torn and full of holes, locks of white now ran through his raven-hued hair, and deep lines of pain marked his face and had left dark hollows around his eyes. He wore a wan smile, and a lone Dwaer-Stone circled in the air just above his brow.
"L-Lord Blackgult!" Flaeros stammered. "What happened to you?"
"I rode into one battle too many, as we all do," the regent told him, unclipping a rather battered flagon of chased silver from his belt and handing it down to the bard.
Flaeros took it eagerly, unstoppered and sniffed, decided it was fiery amberglelt of the very finest sort, and took a cautious swallow.
Ahhhh. The finest, indeed. He shuddered, sighed, and reluctantly handed it back-or tried to; Blackgult waved at him to have another swig.
Flaeros smiled. "And at that battle?"
Blackgult's smile was broader. "I won, then lost, then got caught in magic."
Flaeros let his second sampling of amberglelt trickle slow fire down his throat ere he dared say, "Lord Blackgult-Great Regent-you know that answer was a clever tease no bard can let pass. You defeated whom? Then lost to whom? Were caught in magic how? What magic was it, and who cast it?"
Blackgult held up a hand in a "stay thy words" gesture. "The priests of the Serpent whelmed their own host of mercenaries-from every far corner of Darsar I know of-and them I defeated, with my mercenaries, whilst riding to fight the army of Bloodblade Duthjack, who fancies himself King of Aglirta. The Snake-swords were a complete surprise to me-and they cost my Royal