Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [27]
"On flesh or his leathers?"
"Leathers, lass, leathers. Harpers have to read 'em, mind, and they're apt to be as blind as the next cow, in the dark."
Sharantyr swiftly cut the two diagonally crossed inverted T shapes that warned of a trap, and then the circle bisected by a horizontal line, with a parallel line atop it, that warned observing Harpers to keep their bodies low.
Elminster nodded critically, laid the crossbow across the man's legs, and asked, "Head or feet?"
Sharantyr swiftly said, "Feet for me. Your turn for the blood."
Elminster wrinkled his nose. Together they lifted the body, swung it twice, and tossed it faceup into the oval of light. It passed through soundlessly and was gone. Sharantyr had to grin when Elminster bent to peek under the oval to make sure that the body wasn't just lying on the ground behind it. The grass was bare.
The wizard rose in a smooth pivot that brought him around facing the guard tree again. "Quick, lass. Show me the ladder," he growled, trotting across the grass again.
"The name's Shar, old man," Sharantyr told him, amused. He merely grunted. She raced past him with smooth strides in the darkness and laid her hand on the ladder. "Here."
"Right. Now find me the first tree in that direction ye can climb," he ordered, pointing west along the edge of the dell. Sharantyr gave him a look that he saw most of as she passed, but he merely grinned and followed her, taking out the wand that spat lightnings and muttering something over it.
The lady ranger turned, hand on hip, only her face visible in the darkness. "Here. Is that someone coming?"
"Undoubtedly. Take this"-he handed her the wand, butt-first-"and this." Into the same hand he put a strangling-wire taken from inside his boot.
Sharantyr frowned. "Where'd you-no, strike that. I don't want to know."
"Wise of ye. Take the wand up the tree and affix it there, somewhere sturdy where its aim won't slip with wind or working loose. I want it pointing squarely at the gate, and ye back down here, in a breath or less."
"Oh, yes, Lord," she said in mocking, breathless tones. Elminster grinned and patted some unseen part of her as she climbed past, stepping swiftly back to avoid a kick that did not come.
He bent his head to listen and heard again the hurrying thud of boots and creaking of leather and metal armor that meant death was swiftly coming up the track for them.
He got his other wand into his hand, just to be wise and ready. There was a thump beside him, and Sharantyr was coming back to her feet after her leap, breathing heavily. He took her hand. "Done? Good, come!"
Together, hand in hand, they ran east. Sharantyr was astonished to find the Old Mage's long, scrawny legs twinkling ahead of hers, as swift as any stag, tugging her along faster across the dell. Abruptly Elminster's hand jerked her to the left along the line of trees, to where the rocks of the mountain began to rise.
"Here! Quick and quiet, now," Elminster panted. "Let's get as far as we can without making any noise." Together, like two heavily breathing shadows, they slipped away along the line of tumbled rocks, creeping and crawling where they had to, cushioning each other to avoid noisy falls, and more than once ending up face-to-face, gasping the same air in the darkness. Behind them they could see the torches and flashing blades, and hear occasional shouted orders of the large group of men-at-arms who were searching the dell and the trees around it.
"What now?" Sharantyr whispered into Elminster's ear as the rocky tongue of a mountain hid the last glimmers of torchlight from their view.
"We go on, east, the length of the dale," the Old Mage whispered back and turned to continue. "If the castle was down that track, we started from about halfway along the dale."
Sharantyr squeezed