The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [91]
Thorn held a wooden vial in her left hand. She pulled at it with her teeth, prying off the lid to reveal a delicate glass tube inside. With one sharp motion, she dashed it to the ground, never breaking her stride. The instant the glass shattered, the magical effect began spreading out behind her. This one temporarily transformed earth and bare stone into thick, sloppy mud, and Thorn heard a surprised screech as the first rat stumbled into the muck.
It bought them time, nothing more. The rats would soon make their way through the bog. But every second was valuable, and Sheshka seemed to have a destination in mind. They had left the heart of the city behind, but a building stood up ahead, a ruin painted in the multicolored light of the moons. It was a stockade made from stone—a few defensive walls set together to form a barricade, presumably an outer watch post for the old city. The walls were crumbling and shattered in places, but Thorn could see the silhouettes of guardians standing on the walls, the shapes of halberds and arbalests set against the night. No one was challenging Sheshka’s approach; it seemed that she had friends after all.
Thorn could hear the rats screeching behind them, claws tearing at the earth. The mud had slowed them down, but they were closing in once more. The women would reach the barricade before the rats, but then it would come down to battle. Thorn hoped Sheshka’s allies were good at their work. They gave no indication of being interested in the situation; the archers weren’t firing, and the halberdiers were standing steady.
A great gap yawned in one of the walls, and Sheshka leaped over the broken stone and into the compound. “Follow!” she hissed. Thorn saw that the structure wasn’t a fortress at all; rather, the walls were raised around a wide staircase that descended into the earth. Soldiers stood around them—hobgoblins and bugbears in full armor—but none of them moved or spoke as Sheshka darted through the troops and down the stairs.
The passage stretched down for at least thirty feet, and Thorn struggled to keep from tripping on the steep, curving steps. They reached a wide tunnel. Once, a gate had sealed the passage, but it had been knocked from its hinges long ago; all that was left were fragments of rusted metal and splinters of ancient wood. Soldiers stood around, but as before, they showed no interest in the intruders.
Sheshka spun around, gazing up the stairs. Thorn caught a brief glimpse of her glowing golden eyes as she turned, but it wasn’t enough to cause harm. Sheshka had sheathed her sword, and her bow was drawn back, one arrow to the string, two more clutched in her fingers. Thorn didn’t know what was going on, but she took a position at Sheshka’s side, ready to thrust with the tip of the silver spear.
“Wererats?” Thorn said. “Wererats?”
“I told you there were rats in the Crag,” Sheshka said. “I doubt they’ll have the courage to follow, but we should wait a few moments to make sure.”
“The courage?” Thorn said. “What is this place?”
“This is the Ossuary,” Sheshka replied, her eyes fixed on the stairs above. “And we’re here to look for a bone.”
The Ossuary was a goblin garrison, carved into the earth by the same masons that had hollowed out the tunnels of the Great Crag. It was built for creatures that could see in the shadows, and there was no source of light in the depths. Once again, Thorn was forced to rely on the vision granted by her ring, which cast the world in shades of gray. So it took her a moment to realize why the hobgoblins and bugbears around her still hadn’t reacted to her presence.
They were all made of stone.
“What happened to them?” Thorn said. Presumably, they’d been petrified, but something about the situation felt wrong. The Valenar soldier in Sheshka’s quarters, the rats in the white tower—they’d been caught in the midst of battle. By contrast, no signs of fear showed on the faces of the soldiers around Thorn—no sense that they’d seen this threat approaching. One of the hobgoblins had been petrified in the middle of speaking to his