Wings Over Talera - Charles Allen Gramlich [40]
“Get inside,” I shouted at them.
Someone among the villagers threw a torch at me. I caught it and threw it back, sending the first line of the mob scattering for a moment. Then they surged forward...and hesitated. Voices were raised, bitter and afraid, young and old, male and female. Their indecisiveness would not last.
I shifted the rapier to my right hand, dipped down to grasp the unconscious form of the yellow-clad swordsman in my left. I dragged him up under my arm. His body was dead weight but fear gave me the strength. The crowd saw, and growled. They surged forward again.
“Stay back!” I shouted at them. “This is Vohanna!”
The lie held them. For an instant. And I turned and ran, lugging the swordsman with me. The crowd roared, and came like a river breaking its dam. I saw Valyan standing above the tunnel, saw him release Kreeg’s arms to Diken Graye beneath. Then the Nakscherii warrior was turning, nocking an arrow he’d somehow found time to recover from the laith’s corpse. He sent that wicked barb zipping past my shoulder, followed it with two more as fast as I could blink.
I heard the crowd falter behind me and screamed at Diken Graye to catch as I slung the limp swordsman into the mouth of the tunnel. My glance met Valyan’s and I followed the rider’s body, dropping feet first into the darkness just as the green Llurn fired his last arrow and hurled his useless bow into the mob.
I landed hard on soft loam, twisting my ankle and sprawling. Valyan hit next, fell against me. I rolled, trying to get to my feet as a grating noise tore at my ears. Diken Graye had found the lever that worked the tunnel opening and the altar was closing over it. An arm came through, scrabbled at smooth stone, tried to jerk back as the altar pressed in. A horrified shriek sounded, then was lost behind a ton of stone as the door closed and a hand and wrist dropped squirming to the ground.
Valyan gagged, and even Diken Graye, the hardened mercenary, turned away. I rushed to Kreeg where he lay sprawled on the dusty floor. The sides of the tunnel were lined with torches every ten feet or so. By their light my friend looked dead. I dropped to my knees beside him, placed an ear to his chest. At first I could find no heartbeat, but then I felt movement. Kreeg was breathing. My friend was breathing!
I rose. Above me came the distant thud of hammering as the enraged villagers worked at the altar that closed us off from them. I glanced at Valyan and Graye.
“They may know where this tunnel comes out,” I said. “When they have a moment to think. Certainly those demon things know it. We better hurry.”
“What of him?” Valyan asked, jerking his chin at the still unconscious swordsman.
“Bring him,” I said. “But bind his hands. I’ll have some questions when he wakes.” I sheathed the man’s beautifully wrought rapier in my own scabbard.
Valyan nodded at my words, bent to scoop the man up and toss him over a shoulder. I did the same with Kreeg, though far less easily. With a sore ankle and on trembling legs, I followed Graye and Valyan as they forged quickly ahead, the sounds of the howling mob growing faint behind us.
No pursuit had found us by the time we reached tunnel’s end and discovered that it exited through the mouth of a natural cave in the side of a small hill. We went out cautiously but no foes awaited. Though still dark, the mist had cleared and three of the moons gleamed like lush fruit in the sky. With their light as a guide, we covered our tracks and it did not take long after that to reach the marshy place where our sabruns were tied.
I was grateful to lay Kreeg’s heavy frame on the ground and to kneel beside him, gasping for breath. Valyan merely dumped the swordsman, who was now beginning to stir. Then he dragged the fellow to a sitting position against a rough-barked chelaquin tree and reached for the cloth covering the man’s features.
“Let’s just have a look under here,” he said, grasping the yellow hood