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He groaned once, twisted, and then sighed into senselessness beneath it. The overdukes were already racing on, through the door on the far side of the guardroom and along another passage.
This way, at the narrowing end of Stornbridge Castle, had no half-towers on its courtyard side, and its wall of windows let an ocean of bright silver moonlight into the room. That cold radiance highlighted some frowning portraits of presumably dead former owners of Stornbridge, none of which so much as moved-let alone attacked-as the overdukes ran past.
Then came another door, unguarded this time, and entry into the gate-tower, where voices coming up its two stairwells-which lacked doors of their own, opening directly into the chamber they now crouched in-told the suddenly cautious overdukes that folk were awake and about.
"Look, Chalance," an exasperated voice was saying. "If they try to flee, they have to come to South Tower, Storn Tower, or here. I can't see high-and-mighty overdukes willingly plunging off battlements or bursting through windows to plunge into the moat-nor can I see them getting all the way around the castle to the other gatetower without word coming to us, and every cortahar we have being flung against them, first. So they'll be along, fear you not. Our task is to wait with our bows, keeping quiet and out of sight, firing when we see the chance and only when we see a chance, until the blood price of coming down this stair is so high that they take the other one-into the arms of the priests. We're to try to leave one of the ladies alive but unable to cast spells-break her wrists and fingers, or cut out her tongue, or suchlike. The Champion was most insistent about that."
"My, what a surprise," Embra muttered sarcastically. "He was the one I wanted another long look at, too."
"If I'd been mounting this guard," Tshamarra whispered into Embra's ear, "I'd have put a spying eye up here, so they can see our arrival and which stair we take."
"Serpent-priests have a pet spell that hunts the spying eyes of others, so they think everyone else does the same," Embra breaDied back, falling silent and using the Dwaer to mind-talk. "There'll be an eye somewhere, all right-my bet 'tis above the other side of yon arch, to warn the priests if we use their stair. I don't think they care what happens to the archers-and the archers know it."
"And so?" Craer asked, touching Tshamarra's hand to join the silent discussion.
"River of flame down the archers' stair, all of us scream like we're in agony, and then quick and quiet back out through that door and close it quietly-and wait for them to come to us."
Blackgult shook his head. "Good plan if there weren't dozens of Storn crawling around the castle behind us. I'd say we send a false Dwaer flying down the priest's stair, our own spying eye after it, but give a gout of flame up above the arch first to take out their spying eye. Then Hawk with shield up and Embra behind him down the archer's stair, flame at every turn in it to take out bows before they can fire. Get to the bottom, big rolling fireball, and then back up to join us and we go down the priest's stair after all, knowing how many priests are waiting to hurl doom at us. Keep looking at the ceiling, Hawk and Craer-Serpents love to use a spell that drops biting snakes on heads."
"Ugh. I hate snakes in my hair," Tshamarra a
"Agreed?" Blackgult asked. Their mind-touch flared with accord, and they hastened.
The priests' eye was just where Embra had thought it would be. It vanished in an instant, to the accompaniment of shouts from below-shouts that rose into an excited crescendo when the Dwaer-Stone sailed into view. Spells and hurled weapons surrounded it in a cloud, snarled orders making it clear that at least one Serpent believed an invisible Embra was flying and holding a Stone she couldn't hide with magic-and by then flames were roaring on the other stair, and archers were ru
"Behold, tower stairs," Blackgult gasped, after what seemed an eternity of ru
"Down," Craer growled, hefting blood-drenched daggers.
"Up," Embra panted, "because it gives us more choices of ways on, and because the Serpents will be up high. Priests prefer to be above, looking down, in command. You're a thief, and so think of skulking-"
"Lady Silvertree! 'Procurer,' please!" Craer protested, in mimicry of a scandalized matron. "Agreed: up 'tis."
"Where we'll meet them teeth to teeth," Blackgult said in satisfaction, "and get our first strike at our real foes."
"Conjure a shield first," Tshamarra panted. "One for each of us, to float and flank Hawk's real one. There may be bows ready."
Embra nodded, and they hurried up the stairs with unseen shields shimmering before them.
The uppermost passage was deserted, but the Lady of Jewels urged them on. "If we can get to yonder room first and make ready by its doors, they'll be coming through in haste, thanks to all the fires we've set, and we can-"
The door at the far end of the passage burst open, and armaragors in full battle armor clanked hastily through, swords out. Seven-no, eight-knights, with shields at the ready, forming a neat, practiced-and menacing-wall. Craer whistled and gri
"Embra! Shields high, on edge, and fly them forward," Tshamarra hissed. "We might just be able to break a Serpent-worshipping neck!"
The Lady of Jewels replied with a smile and nod, as Blackgult and Craer hurried to flank Hawkril, and the two groups of armored men hastened to meet each other.
Coming through the door behind the Storn armaragors, as the overdukes had expected, were the Tersept's Champion, in gleamingly magnificent armor, and a haughty-looking man in robes adorned with wriggling serpent designs. Champion Pheldane drew his sword with a flourish and stood guard before the priest, who raised his hands dramatically and began to intone a loud, slow incantation.
"Lady look down, he's trying to impress us to death," Tshamarra murmured. Embra chuckled at that as their unseen shields flashed over Pheldane's shoulders… and struck the priest's throat, edge-on, from two directions at once.
They did not behead the man-quite-but broke his neck in an instant, leaving a gurgling head to loll on suddenly blood-spattered shoulders, ere the corpse toppled headlong.
It struck Pheldane's arm, and he whirled, aghast-at about the same time as Tshamarra snatched the magic of the invisible shields into a new spell, using the Dwaer to send lightning crackling through the Storn armaragors, a step or two before their swords reached the trio of overdukes.
Hawkril and Blackgult sprang back, swearing, but the Lady Talasorn's spell had been precise: their foes were still alive-barely-but quite helpless. To a man, the Storn armaragors crashed to the passage floor and lay there, twitching uncontrollably.
"Safe to proceed?" Craer called. Tshamarra shouted reassurance, and the three overdukes rushed over the stricken knights to confront Pheldane, who licked his lips, backed away, and then turned to flee.
Craer raced past him, eluding a wicked side thrust as he went, and spun in midair to fetch up barring the door with his blade raised. "Is this a Tersept's Champion I see before me?" he taunted. "Or a craven coward?"
Pheldane snarled and hacked at him furiously. He must hew down this little thief before the two armored overdukes reached him, and get out that door!
Craer deflected one mighty blow. The force of the next bent the procurer's parrying blade and drove him to the floor, where he overbalanced onto his back. The glittering point of the Champion's blade drew back to slay.