A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [93]
For his part, Overduke Craer Delnbone had taken a step or two back, and was feeling in his boots and along his forearms, to be sure daggers were loose and ready in their sheaths. Seeing a Melted lying nearby half-crushed under a fall of stone, he plucked up the dead man's sword and hefted it calmly.
Tshamarra Talasorn had stood very still since Embra's glare, only her eyes moving to watch all the preparations for battle. "Is there anything I can get, Lady, to help?" she asked now, hesitantly.
Embra's eyes narrowed, but she paused for only a moment before pointing at a door in the far corner of the throne chamber-where, down the years, Hibar Quelver had stood guard, deciding who would be allowed passage to the River Throne, and who would not-and said, "The forehall beyond that door opens into three rooms. The one on your right has three suits of armor posed along the wall like guards, holding banners. Bring back the helm of the farthest one from us here."
Tshamarra bowed her head. "Lady, I will," she replied, and hastened across the littered floor.
Embra watched her go, thoughtfully, and then asked, "Raulin?"
"Yes, Lady Silvertree?" the bard answered eagerly, from beside her.
Embra took the bracelet from him and slid it up her arm to the shoulder, and then took hold of the shield in both hands, standing it protectively in front of her legs ere leaning on it. "Tell me-briefly, mind-what happened to the king. Who did what, and-"
She saw the Talasorn sorceress cautiously open Quelver's door, peer out, then slip through it, out of sight.
"-what part the lady sorceress who just left us played in it all."
"Uh, well, Lady," Raulin began, with as much smooth eloquence as most flustered young bards can muster when battle is about to break over them and they know it, "the four Talasorn ladies-uh, that one and her three sisters, who are all dead now-they-uh-" isf The bard's next stumbling words were lost in the crash of the door guarded by Craer and Sarasper booming open, and the clank and clangor of armed armaragors reeling into the room.
"Craer! Sarasper!" Embra cried quickly. "Not yet! Hold back for now!"
Craer nodded, giving way to stand back among the piles of fallen stone with borrowed sword in hand. "'you've been right thus far, Em," he called, as cursing, panting armored men killed each other by the door. 'Just let's not change that now, hmm?"
"Lady Embra!" the Baron Brightpennant called from behind the ruined throne. The Lady of Jewels turned her head-and Glarsimber tossed the wand smooth and straight towards her, underhanded, as Hawkril struggled to get the door closed again.
"My thanks!" she said, snatching the wand out of the air. Just as she remembered: a coppery dapple-sheen metal tube, capped at one end with a stylized flower. The rest of the matching filigree had been even more hideous. "Hawk, leave it! We may need a way to flee!"
"Or at least a narrow place to stand in, and defend," Glarsimber agreed, as beside him the armaragor straightened up with a nod, letting a huge chunk of stone thud back onto the shattered floor again.
Other doors were banging open now, all over the throne chamber, as armsmen and armaragors in the livery of Loushoond, Ornentar, and Tarlagar backed into the room, hacking desperately at ever-advancing warriors who were shouting, "Bloodblade! Bloodblade! Victory!"
With a purring growl the longfangs sprang down from the wall, slamming a handful of warriors to the floor and breaking the necks of others by the slaps and curling clingings of his long legs as he swept down. Ere blades could find him, he sprang up to promptly smash down another harvest of armsmen, biting throats and necks savagely before springing again.
Bloodblade's warriors were shouting in alarm now. "A longfangs! Wolf-spider!" and "With evil magic they summon monsters to fight for them! Slay them! Slay the longfangs! Flee Aglirta!"
Blades were hewing the wolf-spider's