Elfsorrow

He was looking to Yron's right. The captain twisted his head as far as he could and peered out of the corner of his eye. The curtains around the bed were moving. A long slender leg appeared, followed by the rest of a naked woman. For two glorious paces, she moved directly towards the screened-off area and then, as if feeling their eyes upon her, she stopped and turned gracefully towards them.

'Oh shit,' breathed Yron, and he moved, fast.

She was going to scream. Reflexively, she covered herself with her hands and arms, drew in breath and opened her mouth wide. Yron's punch took her square on the jaw and she staggered back, falling dazed to thump against the floor, head bouncing on the rugs. She yelped once and lay still.

A groggy voice sounded from inside the curtains and they moved again. Dystran's head appeared. He took in the woman sprawled on the ground and Yron standing over her and very close to him.

'Oh, no,' said Yron.

'What the fu-'

Yron's fist swung again, swiping into the side of Dystran's head. The Lord of the Mount grunted and sprawled but remained conscious.

'Erys, get in here. He needs to sleep very deeply.'

Dystran dragged the curtains aside.

'Guards!' he barked, before Yron got a hand over his mouth.

Erys was casting as he came, Protectors only a couple of paces behind him. A touch from the mage and Dystran stopped struggling and slumped. Yron laid him down gently and faced the two masked warriors, both of whom had axes ready.

'He's not hurt. Just sleeping. Please.'

'Your time is short,' said one. 'Run.'

'See me go,' said Yron. 'Erys.'

Yron sprinted from the chamber, Erys a beat behind him, and clattered down the stairs.

'Erys, which way at the base?'

'Dystran'll have a pulse out. The college will be waking,' said Erys.

'Don't tell me how bad it is; tell me how we get out.'

'Straight through the front of the Tower and head right to the long rooms. Let's go for the west gate.'

Yron nodded. It made sense. They could lose themselves in the artisans' quarter of the city more easily than anywhere else. He leaped the last step, slid by the Protectors in the oval room and kept on going, rounding the bend, tearing the curtain aside and racing towards the front door of the Tower.

As he headed across the marble entrance hall to the door, it opened and a pair of mages strode in. Yron ran straight at them while they dithered, shouldering one aside hard, sending him crashing into a wall. There was a crack behind him as Erys straight-armed the other.

They burst into the night, seeing torches and lanterns waving all over the college grounds as their holders ran towards the Tower. Going right, they raced round the base of the Tower, Erys dragging Yron right again and down the side of the first long room. Erys now leading, they turned behind a lecture theatre, along the side of the refectory and into the press of narrow passageways around the barracks and stables. Beneath a stone stairway to a hayloft, they stopped to catch their breath.

All around them, sounds of pursuit echoed in the dark. Harsh voices organised search parties and doors banged open near them, feet clattering down stairs and across cobbles.

'No one's going to open a gate for us,' said Yron. 'Any ideas?'

'The postern door by the west gate,' said Erys, breathing hard. 'It's small enough. I can focus a ForceCone, probably crack it.'

'Probably?'

'Definitely,' said Erys. 'It may not burst but a kick should finish it.'

'You'd better be right,' said Yron.

'Your turn to trust me.'

Yron waited while Erys gathered himself and formed the shape of a ForceCone in his mind. His eyes moved under closed lids, his hands teasing at the mana Yron would never see. The captain was in awe of mages; they were blessed with a vision he couldn't imagine and an ability at which he could only guess. Erys opened his eyes.

'Let's go,' he said, voice elsewhere as he concentrated hard.

Yron led off, pacing evenly down the passage, keeping himself hidden in deep shadow. Twenty yards ahead, a team of soldiers ran across their path. Yron slowed further, approaching the crossway. Beyond it a short run and then the open space by the west gate. It might be full of men and mages. There was only one way to find out. He listened at the crossway. All was quiet in the immediate surroundings. Offering a short prayer, he hurried across the space, Erys behind him. His ears strained for the shout that would tell them they had been seen but he heard nothing.

He began to hope. Dangerous, he knew, but he did it anyway. At the end of the passage he could see flickering lights and hear more voices. He crept up to the corner; the walls to left and right were the mana bowl and the infirmary. Three paces from the end and a figure strode into the passage, tall and masked. Yron's heart sank and he drew his sword.

'Keep behind me, Erys,' he said.

The Protector marched towards them, axe and sword ready. He stopped in front of Yron, looked at him briefly, and walked on.

'Now or never,' said Erys over Yron's relief.

The postern gate was a forty-yard run directly across the marshalling area for the Xeteskian cavalry. Only a few soldiers were there and all were moving to join the search.

'When you start, keep ru

Yron nodded. He didn't want to leave Erys but there was no choice. 'Don't get caught,' he said. 'Ready? Let's go.'

The two men sprinted into the yard and had covered ten yards before the shouts went up. Left and right, soldiers ran in to cut them off. Yron pushed harder. Crossbow bolts skipped off the ground at his feet. He heard Erys slide to a stop.

'Good luck,' he breathed and, giving Erys clear sight of the door, ran on.

The air was full of torchlight and shouts for him to stop. Behind him, he heard Erys's command word, felt the shadow of the spell rush past him and saw the postern gate buckle outwards, hearing timbers creak and snap. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the mage surge to his feet and chase after him.

Left and right, his former colleagues closed in, yelling warnings, urging him to give himself up. Fresher and mostly younger, they were gaining fast, and he knew if he stopped at the gate he'd be caught. Already feeling the pain he was about to experience, he ate up the last few yards and shoulder-charged the spell-weakened iron-bound oak gate.

As he struck he didn't think it would give, but, with the crack of splitting timber, the gate gave way and he sprawled out into the streets of Xetesk. His shoulder shrieked in pain as he dragged himself to his feet, sparing a glance back inside.

'Come on, Erys!' he shouted.

The mage was ru

Three cells were combing residential areas, two were around the markets and three studied the college itself, including Auum's. But for once he had not chosen the right place. From where Merke, Inell and Vaart were hidden, overlooking one of the gates of the college, they had seen an extraordinary sight.