Even in the bowels of the sub-basement, the sounds of battle filtered down. The guards had been running to the various outposts in the sewers, and James had a rough idea of the enemy’s deployment in the city. The fires raged through the center third of Krondor, and fighting in the eastern segment was light and sporadic.
The bulk of the enemy waited behind the flaming wall as the fires burned out. The one scout who had braved a look said thousands of armed men waited amid the burned-out cinders that were the westernmost third of the city. The palace was a mound of charred stone, still smoking, and James knew that his brother-in-law was dead. Gamina had confirmed that she could not reach William with her mind speech. While it was limited in distance, normally, with her family the question of range was less restrictive. She had found her husband from miles away.
James held his wife as they sat upon the stone floor of the damp and dark room. Those inside had fallen into long silences, as the sense of approaching doom grew. The escape plan required a lot of luck, and everyone was feeling short of luck at the moment.
James gave instructions to the scout who had found a way to the west, and the man hurried off to do as he was bid. Gamina dozed against her husband’s shoulder while he waited, and at about what he judged was sundown, the scout returned.
Something in his manner alerted everyone in the room, and all listened attentively as he said, ‘M’lord!’
‘Report,’ instructed James.
‘Ships are attacking the invaders.’
Gamina closed her eyes and said, ‘Nicholas isn’t there.’
James said, ‘Then it’s Lord Vykor’s fleet from Shandon Bay.’
He patted his wife’s shoulder, and stood up slowly. ‘I’m too old to be sitting on these cold floors.’
He helped Gamina to her feet and said, ‘It’s time.’
‘What do we do?’ asked Lysle.
‘Try to stay alive,’ he said, looking at his wife. He said, ‘Lord Vykor had a fleet in hiding down in Shandon Bay, and he was to link up with whatever was left of Nicholas’s fleet after it came through the Straits, and follow the invaders. Once the invaders’ fleet was at anchor, they were to hit them as hard as possible, firing as many enemy ships as they could, while we set the city to the torch.
‘As you can see, things didn’t work out quite the way we planned. But if the bulk of their army, the key corps, are in the western third of the city waiting for the fires to subside, we can let loose the naphtha in the old sewers. That will blow the entire city under them, and with their ships afire, they’ve got no choice but to burn.’
‘You say that with a certain amount of glee,’ said Lysle.
‘It’s my city,’ said James through clenched teeth.
‘So, what first?’
‘Watch my men and stay out of the way,’ said James as he signaled to his soldiers.
With silent efficiency, six of them moved to a large pair of wooden doors and opened them, while two opened the outer doors. As these outer doors to the sewer swung wide, the six men on the other side were rolling barrels out of a huge storage area. Another two were attempting to work an ancient, rusted iron lever.
‘Make your lads useful and have them put some weight on that,’ said James, pointing to the stubborn lever.
Lysle waved a hand, and four of his thieves hurried over and added their muscle to the effort. The lever began to move and they could hear the sound of running water.
James said, ‘There’s an ancient cistern behind that wall, and that lever will drain it, setting off a very quick flow out to the harbor.’
Lysle watched in fascination as the six black-clad soldiers began rolling barrels of naphtha down the ramp leading into the water. The current of the stream was noticeably taster, as the barrels were Boating away from them at a good pace. One of the rolling barrels struck the side of the door and cracked. The smell of Quegan oil filled the air. ‘A little on the surface is a good thing,’ said James with a grim smile.
‘If you say so,’ said Lysle. ‘Now tell me again about the getting-away part of this plan of yours.’
‘As soon as the barrels are all moving toward the docks,’ he said. ‘We have an hour or so. Let’s just hope the fleet’s taking care of their part of things.’
Lord Karole Vykor, Admiral of the King’s Fleet in the East, shouted, ‘Fire!’
Another dozen catapults from the nearest ships lofted their flaming cargo high into the air, to come crashing down on the ships in the harbor.
‘Mr Devorak,’ said the Admiral.
‘Sir?’
‘Wasn’t it cooperative of the bastards to tie all their ships together in a gigantic mass for us?’