Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [39]
"I'm getting a little weary of all this bloodshed," Itharr said quietly. His voice was stronger.
Belkram nodded. "I'm not overfond of it, either, but a guard down is one less sword to hunt us. You sound better."
"I feel better," Itharr said, putting the second vial carefully into his belt pouch. "We're too close," he added, watching the flames leap higher. "We'll be well lit, soon."
"Aye," Belkram agreed, and they scrambled back into the trees. The dell, with its gate, was just a little way beyond.
Itharr looked toward it and then back at Belkram questioningly.
His Mend shrugged. "We've not found Elminster, and I know he came here. I can feel it."
Itharr nodded. "Aye," he agreed, "and these look like Zhent Blackhelms to me, from what little we've seen."
Belkram nodded. "Any work we can do against them is well done, whenever we get a chance."
"Whither, then?"
Belkram tossed the crossbow away and stared into the night for a moment. "Do you see mountains beyond?" he asked.
Itharr held up a hand to shield against the light of the leaping flames and said, "Aye. Not too far off, either."
Belkram nodded. "Come day, they'll be searching these woods for our our trail. The rocks this side are the natural place to hide, and for them to look. Why not take ourselves across to those, over there?"
"And spare ourselves much of the hunters' attention?" Itharr asked. "I like it. Let's use the road, and look for a stream to turn aside from it. Now, before the flames bring everyone out to watch."
Belkram nodded, and they hurried around the back of the blazing building, flitting like shadows from tree to tree. Below them, houses and shops-and beyond, a smallish stone castle-rose out of the night.
"Where are we, then?"
"A mountain pass?"
"Aye." Itharr nodded slowly. "If there's a cart road through the lowest part, there, I'd say yes."
"But where?" Belkram obviously did not recognize their surroundings.
Itharr yawned. "I'll think about it," he promised, "when we're safely hidden."
The two Harpers drifted into the night, seeking their stream.
* * * * *
"Bane curse us all," Nordryn gasped, too astonished for anger. "The barracks!"
"Now do you see," the Sword said in a voice of cold steel, "why I ordered the men to fall back there to make their stand? This is your doing, softskull!"
Nordryn stared at him, eyes glittering. "You would speak to me so?"
"Aye. Be glad I do not cut you down where you stand, mage. I'd be doing High Lord Manshoon a favor, if this is any example of the glorious bungling you'll inflict on his plans in times to come." He barked short, mirthless laughter. "I'd be doing you a favor, come to that, saving you from Manshoon!"
Nordryn stepped back a pace, raising his hand. The officer's sword slid out to float menacingly just above it, preventing the wizard from gesturing to unleash a spell. "Don't," the Sword suggested in soft, heavy tones of menace.
Nordryn stepped away again, a brittle smile visible on his face where the leaping flames lit it. "What if I told Stormcloak that the foray into the woods was your plan?" The Sword's eyes were bleak. "You'd be digging your own grave, wizard. Even if all the men who heard you giving orders were dead, and their bodies ruined past what dark magic can recall or speak to, there's this." He shook the gauntlet off his free hand and raised his fingers until Nordryn could see the heavy ring that glinted upon the middle one. "Look well," the soldier suggested. The wizard felt cold fear creeping down his spine. He knew all too well what that sigil meant: Manshoon. This cold-eyed soldier was one of the High Lord's personal agents. He swallowed and turned abruptly away to hide the fear he knew was showing on his face-fear, and something else. The man had to die before Manshoon heard of this or Nordryn Spellbinder's career would be short and painful… or long, cold, and frustrating, posted to all the worst places, with new magic forever denied to him, and under the constant, cruel eye of some watcher appointed by the High Lord.