Blood in the Valley Page 20

  Chapter Ten

  Flight through Shadow and Flame

  Not all of Eredynn’s citizenry had made for the docks. Some, either not having received word of Vohl’s plot or not trusting it, now thronged the streets and courtyard outside the Imperial Palace. The air rang with their pitiful cries, their pleas to be allowed into safety.

  As fires began to spread within the city, harbingers of the horde’s breakthrough, pathos became hysteria and the mob hurled itself against the thin line of Guardsmen deployed on the lower steps of the palace’s columned main entrance. With shields and heavy armor, even the weight of the mob should not have proved an insurmountable challenge to the guards. But hesitation betrayed their unease to draw steel against innocents, even as accusations and insults railed against their nerves and thrown debris pattered against their hunched helms.

  “I never asked you how exactly you planned to get us in,” Muddle growled over the din to Vohl, hovering at the rear of the mob.

  Vohl grinned. “We’re going to walk in the front door.” He pointed over the crowd to the steps and the beleagured guards. “Just force us a way through to the front.”

  Muddle grunted and shouldered his axe, preferring his hands for the work ahead. The undulations of the mob sent a middle-aged citizen stumbling backwards into him. Muddle grabbed the man by the shoulder and hurled him forward, parting the crowd with the impact and plowing forward into the breach, himself. Vohl followed with a shake of his head, never ceasing to be surprised at the brute’s simplicity.

  The half-breed’s bulk did much to open a path for the pair, the scarred mountain of muscle grinding boulder-like through yielding flesh. Seeing looks of shock and terror, Vohl knew it was their appearance, as well, blood-splashed and bearing naked, gore-caked weapons, that offered such easy passage. He tried not to see too much of those around them, drink in too much of the misery and doom; wild-eyed mothers with squalling infants, the elderly with haunted, craggy faces seeing through wisdom that death was near, the fat, finely-clad merchants, many hale enough to have offered service in their own defense, now facing that which they had connived to avoid.

  A tightening of the mob ahead and the flash of armor through gaps warned Vohl that they were near the front. A shield thrust forward by a Guardsman whose patience had withered banged off the skull of a citizen leaned forward into a shove. The stunned man flopped to the cobblestones of the courtyard, arms fanning wide at Vohl’s feet. Vohl stepped into the opening offered by the man’s fall and raised his sword high, bellowing, “The defenses are broken! I was there! The goblinoids are right behind us!”

  Shrieks of terror shivering out from Vohl like a shockwave. Those nearest froze, eyes going to Vohl. Even some of those struggling at the fore ceased their confrontation to hear. Muddle, clenching a particularly combative citizen by the front of his tunic, paused in his beating to throw Vohl a confused scowl.

  “Hear me!” Vohl roared. He gestured towards the Guardsmen with his sword. “Our only chance at safety is in there! They stand in your way! Their cowardly masters would hold you out! Get them!!!”

  Already quivering on the edge of madness, the mob bawled its fury and surged forward. Vohl dived in with the press. His course brought him to front, where a Guardsman struggled with a pair of citizens who’d gotten grips on his shield and swordarm. Vohl saw the thin line part and stepped into the gap, raised his sword and slammed it pommel-first into the temple of the Guard. The soldier dropped senselessly, the citizens swarming over him onto the steps beyond.

  A second Guardsman to Vohl’s right saw the opening, saw Vohl, and pivoted to deal him a skewering thrust. Muddle’s arm shot over the tangle of struggling bodies to grip the soldier’s shoulder and spin him halfway around to take the half-breed’s right-cross on the jaw. The Guard went down with the mob spilling over him and the breach in the line widening.

  Vohl vaulted up a few steps with Muddle a stride behind him before halting to look up. A reserve of Guardsmen deployed at the top of the stairs and began to descend in a single rank. Turning, Vohl cried to the mob below, now pouring through holes in the first line, “They’re all that stands between you! Come on!”

  The reserves tromped down the steps with a rhythmic clank of armor, drawing their swords. Vohl readied his, offered Muddle a grim smile as the two waited. If Aigann thought I was criminal before, I sure as the gods am now! The nearest Guardsman, only strides away, raised his weapon, eyes blazing outrage from under his helm.

  The mob boiled up the stairs past Vohl and Muddle, crashed into the reserves with a clatter of fists against shields, bodies against armor and occasionally the sickening scrutch of metal biting meat. Vohl grimaced at the scent of fresh blood and shouldered into the melee. A Guardsman bowled a citizen over and poised to drive home a killing stroke. Hurtling past, Vohl spun and kicked the man in the back. A second citizen coming up to aid the first ducked as the unbalanced Guardsman tumbled onto his shoulders then straightened, sending the soldier careening into the waiting arms of the crowd.

  The stairs lay open above Vohl and he dashed up them two at a time. Clear of the tangle, he glanced over his shoulder, sought Muddle in the chaos. A pair of Guards flopped away from a careening shape and the half-breed was through. The frenzy in his piggish eyes, Muddle spun and brought his axe up two-handed to finish one of them.

  Mighty hinges squalled at the top of the stairs. Vohl turned, saw a pair of Guardsmen laboring to draw the massive double-doors of the Palace shut. He mounted another stair, stopped, knowing he could never reach them in time, and spun back to the anarchy, hollering, “Muddle, I need your axe!”

  The half-breed froze halfway into his killing swing and looked up, his gaze losing some of its maniac light. Following Vohl’s frantic gestures, he raised his axe again, arms drawing the weapon backwards until it was level with his spine, and threw.

  The axe carved a pinwheel of lightining across the air. The Guardsman pushing the door to the right saw it coming and leapt back with a yelp just before the weapon planted itself quivering in the heavy wood inches from his face.

  Vohl sprinted up the last few steps and pointed his sword at the stunned Guards. “Stand aside.” The man to the left exchanged an uncertain glance with his comrade and reached for his sword grip. “You don’t want to be dead and I don’t want to be the reason why,” Vohl snarled at him. “Get out of here and save yourselves.”

  Breathing hoarsely, Muddle appeared to claim his axe with a yank that made the planking groan. He grinned at the Guard still there. The murderous eyes were enough to unthaw the man from his frozen stance and send him scurrying. The sight of his comrade’s flight convinced the other to do the same.

  “Through the front door, I told you,” Vohl began to say. But a great cry of dismay from behind drew their attention.

  Fires spread to the buildings flanking the Eredynn Way, walking up the route parallel to jeering goblinoid masses. The pillagers boiled up the hill, reached the walls surrounding the Palace and scuttled over them or poured into the courtyard through the gates left open by the citizens. Goblins fell upon the crowd in a jabbering wave of violent glee, tulwars and spears flashing and going red by the light of torches tossing through the air.

  Vohl winced and looked away, tried not to hear the fear and pain, the bite of steel, claw, and fang. He met Muddle’s tortured gaze.

  “There’s nothing left for us here but Dodso. Let’s go.”

  DANELLE CLENCHED JAYCE’S hand till his knuckles creaked as they watched the exodus commence around the River Imp. The squall of dock planking weighted down by desperate masses was lost in the cacophony of the refugees. Families parted by necessity set their cries to the heavens, shrill and agonized. Arguments raged at boarding ramps as captains insisted that they were loaded to the edge of dangerous as hulls sagged low to the waterline.

  Tev had had the Imp’s ramp drawn in after the light craft had taken on what was arguable more than its share, the First Mate now standing near the bow with a sledg
e hammer in his fists and a pair of armed sailors at his flanks to ward off the mobs bristling at the pier. Above the scene, inferno engulfed the city of Eredynn, churning the sky above into columns of yellowy-red and black and lighting the entire pitiful scene in shimmering crimson.

  Danelle put her face into her free hand to stifle sobs. Pleas from women and then children held up high so that their terrified faces could be seen echoed on the water. Jayce ground his teeth and tried not to let his gaze linger too long on any one figure.

  “We can’t take anymore!” Tev roared to the crowd. He gestured across the bay with his hammer. “There are other ships! Pull yourselves together and move on and you will find one!”

  “The gods forgive us, Master,” Danelle moaned. “Can’t we take on a few more?”

  “No,” Jayce replied, revulsion making his voice harsh. “We’ve got to wait for Vohl and Muddle and Dodso—if they find him.” He looked at his feet, better than seeing the faces. “Tev’s right. There are other ships. They need to realize that and move on!”

  “I can’t stand it.” Danelle’s grip on Jayce’s fingers grew unbearable. “It’s worse then at Edon Village. Maybe we should go and circle back when—”

  “Stop it!” Jayce yanked his hand free to put it on the girl’s shoulder and turn her to look him in the eye. “Control yourself, girl.”

  A shout came down from the Imp’s crowsnest. Jayce looked up, saw the lookout gesturing into the bay beyond, and turned his gaze that way.

  Fleeing craft trudged out onto the lake, met the swarms of goblinoid craft and began to bog down. Fighting began about the hulls, goblins hurling makeshift boarding lines to snag gunwales, some getting purchase and beginning to scuttle up the sides. Metal rang and harsh cries spoke of death. Most of the larger civilian craft plowed through, bulk giving them advantage and an eager wind now catching in their sails. But from the southwestern shores of the lake, torches betrayed fresh crowds of improvised goblin squadrons paddling across the escape route, further clogging up the narrow harbor mouth.

  “Danelle,” Jayce said and pointed to the crowsnest. “I want you up there. See what good you can do to clearing that blockade. You know how.”

  “I do?” Danele sniffled.

  Jayce touched her face and nodded. “You do.”

  Danelle wiped her eyes and managed to return the smile. She nodded and turned to begin scaling the mainmast.

  “That’s my girl.” Jayce watched her ascent with pride before the din of his surroundings reclaimed his attention. He let his eyes pan across the mayhem of the departures and the first tingle of fear began to enter his mind. Could they even expect Vohl to get through all that? Was he even alive?

  Hurry, Vohl. By the gods, hurry!

  THE RACKET OF BATTLE filling the upper levels of the Palace faded as Vohl and Muddle descended a winding, poorly-lit stairwell into the dungeon. It had taken more time to get this far than Vohl had anticicpated, having been forced to evade troops of Guardsmen rushing to contain the break-in at the Palace antechamber and keep ahead of conflicting knots of citizen mobs and marauding goblins. But as the stairs whirred by beneath their pounding feet, the acrid odor of urine, feces, and unwashed bodies increasingly choked the air and he knew they were close.

  A pair of guards came up the stairs below and froze at the sight of them, hands flying to their weapons. Vohl staggered to a halt and put up a hand to restrain Muddle.

  “Who the hell are you?” one of the guards demanded.

  “We’re from the City Watch!” Vohl gestured with his blade up the stairs. “Goblinoids have broken into the Palace! Every man is needed! We were sent to get you.”

  The guards exchanged a look. The first one asked, “Who sent you?”

  “Procurator Aigann, who else?” Vohl shook his sword, feigning frustration. “They’re in the antechamber! You’ve got to hurry!”

  Another glance passed between the guards. The first and apparently most senior nodded and waved his comrade after him. They hustled past Vohl and Muddle.

  “Not the brightest men,” Muddle murmured as their footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

  “Maybe,” Vohl said, resuming the descent. “Or maybe they’re smart enough to know all’s lost and this is their last chance at escape.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and a heavy, rusty-banded door, left partially ajar by the guards’ departure. Vohl swung the door back and stepped into the room beyond, a jailor’s office, cramped and dusty with a worm-eaten desk littered with half-finished meals. Another, reinforced door waited on the far side. A guard who’d had his back to them spun at their entry and brandished a cudgel.

  “What...?”

  “Open the dungeon!’ Vohl said, brushing past the man as if he belonged there.

  “What are you...” The guard shook his head. “There’s some kind of mischief going on in there. Ceson went in and hasn’t come out. I can’t—”

  “Quickly, fool!” Vohl roared. “The city walls have fallen and the enemy is breaking into the Palace. We need every man!”

  The guard threw Muddle a glance then began fumbling at his key ring. “They—they’re really in the Palace?”

  “Open it!”

  “Damn it!” The guard flung the keys to the floor and bolted past Muddle for the exit. “You open it!”

  “Let him go,” Vohl said to the half-hobgoblin and scooped up the keys. He began working through them, trying each on the dungeon door’s huge lock. He heard scuffling and hushed voices on the other side. Finally, a key caught in the mechanism. Vohl gave it a twist, felt the lock release and flung the door inward.

  Dodso and a ragged mob of prisoners looked up. They winced and blinked in the torchlight, Dodso clutching a key ring as he stood over the unconscious form of another guard. Confusion and fear became an exultant smile as he recognized their rescuers.

  “You old reprobate,” the gnome rasped. “I knew I’d be seeing you again!”

  Vohl took in the shaggy mob behind Dodso, noted open cells the length of a long, vermin-infested corridor. “It looks like you haven’t been idle, old friend. How did you manage it?”

  “No time!” Muddle growled. Shrieks and the clang of metal echoed down the stairs.

  “Right. The horde has breached the walls and is in the Palace.” Vohl waved for the mob to follow. “We’ve got little time!”

  Surging through the jailor’s office, Vohl and Muddle led the escapees to the opposite door where the flicker of approaching torches and voices heightened by terror halted them. Vohl stepped out into the stairwell to see a troop of Guardsmen in battered armor splashed with the black of goblin grue coming down. Kodror Aigann, his hair wild and his eyes wilder, tromped in their midst. The troop halted at the sight of the intruders and Aigann’s eyes met Vohl’s.

  “Bastard!” Aigann hissed.

  “Procurator, wait!” Vohl said, beginning to back into the door. “We can help one another!”

  Goblinoid jeers carried down the stairwell like the chatter of sewer rats, echoes magnifying their numbers. The troop turned as one. Its apparent commander said to Aigann, “They’re right behind us, sir. Perhaps we should—”

  “They’re criminals, you fool! They’re no better than the scum following us!” Aigann shrieked. “Get them!”

  Vohl leapt back through the door, Muddle slamming it behind him and fastening the lock. The halfbreed looked at Vohl. “What now?”

  Bodies crashed against the barred door. Vohl met Dodso’s gaze, then those of the shivering prisoners, many of them cadaverous and feeble from starvation and lack of water. Despair clamped its fangs into his bowels as another impact shook the door, shook rust loose from fatigued hinges. He took a breath and said, “All of you grab whatever you can find to use as a weapon.”

  “Wait!’ Dodso said, throwing up his arms. “Listen, there may be another way! There’s a window to the rear of the dungeon. It’s barred but it’s only a level up from the lakeside wall. If we can form some kind of a tether...”


  The door shook again, a hinge springing loose with a clang of a screw sent careening. Vohl nodded and waved the mob back into the dungeon. “Go! Go! Go!”

  As Vohl ducked past Muddle into the dungeon the opposite door shattered and the Palace Guardsmen with Aigann screaming at their backs burst into the office. The half-breed slammed the dungeon door just as they crossed the room. Pummeling resumed, now on the inner door, and shouts rattled the wood as Muddle snicked the lock secure.

  Dodso was already at work, directing the freed prisoners to collect links of chain, rope, and half-rancid linens to construct the “tether”. The window he had indicated was at the end of the corridor. “Muddle, your brawn would be needed, I think,” Dodso called.

  “Go,” Vohl said to the halfbreed. He took up a position there, listening to the clamor outside.

  Muddle tromped down the corridor to the window, dropped his axe and gripped the bars. Muscles stood out in chords across his scarred frame as he leaned back against the resistance. Metal groaned and loosened rust speckled sweating forearms. The half-hobgoblin paused for a breath then let out a bawl of fury as he strained again, the bars beginning to warp before his monstrous strength.

  Shouts and shrieks tore the air on the other side of the dungeon door. Steel sang and goblin voices cackled. A body thudded against the door. Aigann’s voice pierced the reinforced wood. “Rhenn, open the door, you traitor!”

  “Hurry up!” Vohl shouted down the corridor. Muddle’s roar of exertion was his only answer. The prisoners waited, clutching the lengths of their improvise line, casting furtive looks back and forth between the window and the door.

  “Rhenn, damn you—” Aigann’s ranting paused and the door shook with some unseen struggle. Men howled in pain. Blades crashed. A lone hand began slapping against the door. “Rhenn...Rhenn...I know we’ve had our differences...”

  “Hurry!”

  Muddle gave the bars a jerk. Masonry clattered free and the frame hung partially ajar.