Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [40]
Abruptly a hissing sound cut through the air. A flaming arrow sped from the window of an abandoned tower on the edge of the square, striking one of the ale seller's wooden casks. The ale seller himself was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Caledan looked up in time to see Mari, her face hard with concentration, loose a second arrow from her perch high in the derelict tower. The Harper's timing was as good as her aim.
The second flaming arrow struck another wooden cask. For a moment the arrows burned into the wood as the guards nearby stared in puzzlement. Then the casks exploded in a blossom of brilliant, fiery light. The towers around the square swayed on their foundations. A half-dozen guards flew through the air like strange, dark birds, and when they landed they did not rise again. The square plunged into chaos. Half of the guards were dead, the others stunned. Tyveris was cutting the prisoners free of their nooses and lowering them down to the ground, where they escaped easily in the confusion.
Caledan looked up to make a sign to Mari, but the window in the tower was empty. The Harper was already gone. Now it was time for Caledan's part.
Quickly he tossed down a coil of rope he had securely anchored to the bridge's balustrade. He slid down the line and landed on the platform. Tyveris, hood fallen back and robe in tatters, had just one more prisoner to free-Ferret.
"You know, this probably makes you a heretic in the Church of Cyric," Caledan commented.
"I can live with that," Tyveris replied. With his bare hands he snapped the rope around Ferret's neck. The little roan snatched away the sack that covered his face, then his beady eyes went wide. He stared at Tyveris, his nose twitching. "I must be dead already. Tyveris, you look like a monk!"
"I am a monk, you weasel," Tyveris bellowed, reaching out to catch the small man in an embrace. Ferret's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
"You're breaking me," he gasped. He wormed his way out of Tyveris's grip.
"Let's save the joyous reunions for later, all right?" Caledan told them. "We're not out of here yet." Some guards were regrouping and were getting ready to charge the platform. "All right, everybody, up the-" rope, he was going to say, but the pounding of hooves interrupted him.
Five iron-shod chargers thundered into the square. Astride four of them were Zhentarim warriors clad in the livery of the city guard, their short swords drawn and ready for violence. On the fifth horse rode a figure both Caledan and Tyveris recognized, a massive man with blood soaking through the large bandage covering his nose. The priest of Cyric.
"I guess I should have hit him harder," Tyveris grumbled darkly. Ferret, who needed no further prompting, scrambled nimbly up the rope.
"I'll bring up the rear," Caledan said. The big Tabaxi nodded and followed the thief, swiftly pulling his bulk up the rope.
One of the square's three exits had been blocked by rubble from the smoke powder blast. Now the four mounted Zhents moved to guard the other two arches leading from the plaza. As they did, the priest of Cyric gripped a hideously twisted amulet of dark, wrought steel that hung about his neck. He began shouting something in a harsh, foul-sounding tongue.
Ferret and Tyveris had reached the bridge above. Caledan leaped onto the rope and began hauling himself up, arm over arm.
A low groaning sound shook the air when Caledan was only halfway to the bridge. Suddenly there was a deafening crack. Caledan briefly wondered if it was another smoke powder explosion, then heard Tyveris shouting frantically. Caledan looked away from the rope and nearly lost his grip in his utter shock.