Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [41]
The warehouse doors were open, revealing the confusion roiling out in the street as more mercenaries arrived and had to fight their way through the fearful crowds fleeing their homes. Lightning speared the sky, but there wasn't a storm cloud to be seen.
"These barrels get wet," Sonshal called out as he clambered into the back and sat, "all we're going to be doing is riding to our deaths. They get hit by that damned lightning those wizards are throwing around, and we'll go even quicker."
"I hear ye." Khlinat laid the reins across the backs of the horses in a practiced snap. The team hit the end of their traces at once, starting the wagon off quickly.
Sonshal cursed, warning about the barrels.
"Gangway!" Khlinat called at the top of his voice. The horses' hooves struck sparks from the cobblestones and the thunder of their passage cannonaded between the tall buildings on either side of Bindle Street. "Wild horses! Clear the street!"
People dived to the sides of the street, some of them just ahead of being trampled. Khlinat handled the horses expertly, slapping the reins and urging them to greater speed. The ironbound wheels whirred against the cobblestones.
Jherek braced himself, holding fast to his weapons and praying to Ilmater that their headlong rush hurt no one, and that they arrived in time to save something of Baldur's Gate.
* * * * *
Pacys's fingers twitched for the strings of the yarting. The music crescendoed in the old bard's head. He mapped the words and the rhythms, finding maddening pieces and partials of the lyrics that formed the song. The oppression and the sound of the battle didn't daunt his spirits or send fear into him at all. He felt more alive than he had in decades. His soul thirsted for the knowledge and the answers that he was certain lurked around the next comer.
He held his staff in both hands as he ran through the crowd in the street. He felt their pain of loss, their uncertainty of fear, and he worked it into the lyrics running through his mind as surely and skillfully as a silversmith working an intricate inlay assignation.
The music changed pitch, becoming the champion's song again when he heard the rough voice farther down the street.
"Clear the damned street, ye deaf lummoxes!"
The sea of people and mercenaries before Pacys parted. The music paralyzed him, stronger than he'd ever heard it before. He spotted the dwarf over the horses' laid-back ears as they pulled the wagon. Then his eyes rested on the young man beside the diminutive teamster.
Pacys knew he'd never seen the young man before in his life, but he felt he knew him with greater certainty than he'd experienced at any time in his long life. This was the one Narros had spoken of, the one who would challenge the Taker that brought death and destruction from the sea.
"Get out of the way, old man!" the dwarf roared, slapping the rumps of the horses yet again.
Getting his wits back about him, Pacys dived to the side, rolling to get more distance. The wagon thundered past him, and he memorized the cadence of the ironbound wheels across the cobblestones, figuring out how he could bring that sound to life with his fingertips against the yarting's bowl while strumming the strings with his thumb.
The wagon took the next corner and drove toward the harbor.
Pacys pushed himself up, watching as the wagon disappeared. Without a second thought, he pursued, running as fast as he could. When he turned the corner, he came face-to-face with the first of the sahuagin who'd battled their way farther into the city.
The bunyip roared out in the harbor as the lead sahuagin ripped trident tines toward Pacys's face.
* * * * *
Laaqueel followed Iakhovas through the darkness, the sounds of the battle out in the harbor far behind