Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [126]
“Aruget,” she whispered, “what—?”
Anything she might have said was lost in an incredible boom that sounded as if someone had thrown a massive bell against the wall of the fortress. It was followed by a tremendous crash of collapsing metal. A quavering shriek started up, stretching on and on without pause.
One of Aruget’s hands found hers. The other pressed itself over her mouth. Out in the passage, the big outer doors were flung open and booted feet raced by. The opening of the outer doors nudged the door of the storeroom a little wider and Ashi caught a glimpse of hobgoblin guards running for the kitchen with drawn swords. The open doors also drew warm air from inside the fortress. Suddenly she could smell smoke, weirdly scented and stinging.
“Go!” said Aruget. He released her and leaped for the storeroom door. She followed close behind.
Two unlucky guards lingered in the open doors. One saw them and opened his mouth to shout. Aruget’s sword took him across the belly and then back across the throat in two swift cuts. Ashi dealt the other one a hard punch to the jaw that spun him around and dropped him to his knees. Aruget turned and swung his sword a third time. The guard’s head leaped from his neck and rolled back into the passage. His body toppled to the side. Ashi started.
“Did you have to kill him?”
“Yes.” Aruget jumped for the doors, dragging them shut. “There’s an outer gate—open it!”
Beyond a jutting roof that gave shelter to the doors, rain came down in cascades, turning the small courtyard beyond into a vast black puddle. Ashi splashed her way through it. The outer wall of the courtyard was simple brick, meant to keep out trespassers more than to repel attackers. There were no guards—they must have all been huddled near the inner doors to stay dry. Heavy wooden doors in the brick wall were held shut only by a thick beam. Ashi grasped the rain-slicked wood, clenched her teeth, and hauled the beam free of one door before letting it drop. They didn’t need both doors open to escape. The freed door swung wide with only a tug. Aruget joined her and, side by side, they dashed through the gate and ran out into Rhukaan Draal.
The night was very dark. Wind-driven rain soaked Ashi’s clothes entirely. Aruget led her through a maze of sidestreets and alleys, always away from Khaar Mbar’ost but never in a straight line. Ashi flipped wet hair out of her face, wiped water from her eyes, and stayed with him. Once she thought she heard the sounds of pursuit, but they were gone as quickly as they appeared.
“What did you do in the kitchen?” she said.
“Korluaat poured inside a cauldron,” Aruget gasped. His breathing was more labored than hers, but he carried the weight of his armor and of a larger body. “Another cauldron jammed over top with noon paste to seal the gap. Set over the fire with a rag for a fuse.” He drew a ragged breath. “More pots piled around them. Kettle stopped up with cork and a bit of metal. Spice jars on the coals. No more questions.” He sucked in more air. “Bloody hobgoblins—not built for running!”
They splashed through puddles that stank like sewers and others that were already as deep as her shins. She stumbled over unseen obstacles and Aruget dragged her to her feet. They didn’t slow. Cold from her wet clothes numbed her skin, beaten back temporarily by the heat of exertion. Faces flicked past in the shadows beneath eaves and stairs—people without homes or simply those caught in the storm, seeking out any shelter they could.
It seemed like they’d been running half the night before the alley they followed opened onto a broad street running with water. Rain and shadow rendered it as anonymous as all of the others at first, but then Aruget slowed to a stumbling, wheezing walk and pointed ahead. Ashi looked—and a complex of buildings enclosed by a stout wall seemed to resolve out of the night. Beside tall iron gates, a crest depicting the head of a unicorn was illuminated by a muted but steady magical light.
The Orien compound.