Then a fire was ignited and another. Suddenly the barricade was ablaze. Von Darkmoor, he thought. Young Erik was thinking fast on his feet.
The dead stumbled into the flames and noiselessly they flailed about, until they collapsed upon the ground. The few that managed to gain a purchase on the burning barriers were pushed back by spears and poles.
Then Nakor heard the sound of a war engine firing and in the darkness he could see something flying over the camp to land near the diamonds. A minute later another missile came flying overhead and landed closer to the barricade. Nakor could see a barrel explode upon impact, sending oil in all directions, which ignited when some struck the barricade. The pool of fire engulfed those corpses stumbling toward the barricade and soon they were falling.
Pug, Tomas, Ryana, and Miranda suddenly appeared next to Nakor.
Pug said, “Gods!”
Nakor said, “Those corpses aren’t the problem, Pug. Erik von Darkmoor is taking care of them as needed, but there is where you must go!” He pointed northward. “Find the source of that energy, and you’ll find the one you need to destroy.”
Battle horns sounded, and Fadawah’s army started to march forward as the fires began to abate.
Tomas asked, “Where can I best serve?”
Nakor said, “Killing those soldiers here does no good, but ending the problem up there may save the West.”
Ryana shifted her form and suddenly the huge dragon towered over them. “I will carry you all.”
They climbed on her back and she launched herself skyward. Those soldiers who happened to be glancing toward the treeline as Ryana struck a mighty beat of her wings and gained altitude were astonished, and many shouted and pointed, but as the battle built in fury and the advancing army of Fadawah bore down on the abandoned diamonds, most were too preoccupied with survival to notice the dragon.
She circled once and headed north.
Dash heard the drums from the Keshians in the field. He knew he’d see what they had in store later; the darkness hid the Keshians’ deployment as sunrise was still hours off. As best the watchmen on the walls could tell in the dark they were facing only cavalry and mounted infantry, with no heavy foot or war engines; Dash assumed they had infiltrated fast-moving companies for weeks now, and that slower-moving units had been avoided. With even half the normal garrison here, Kesh would never risk an attack on this scale. So the news was mixed good and bad: they were only facing swordsmen and horse archers, but they were facing a lot of them.
Dash expected this meant the escaping Keshian officer Duko wrote of in his message to Patrick had successfully reached his army with the news of Krondor’s weaknesses. The only good news in the message had been the fact of Jimmy being alive and Malar being dead.
The word from the palace was equally mixed. Patrick, Francie, and her father would recover—though Lord Brian might have lasting effects from the poison. Lord Rufio was dead, and several of the other nobles of the area as well. Two officers had recovered enough to take up positions on the walls, but Dash knew they were woefully undermanned to hold off the Keshian army for more than a few hours, a day or two at best.
There were still too many weaknesses in the defense of the city. There were ways into the city that you didn’t have to be a Mocker to find. The dry aqueduct along the north wall had more than a half-dozen entrances if one simply took the time to probe. Dash wished he could have repaired the sluice gates and flooded it, but he would have filled a hundred cellars full of water by doing so. Suddenly an idea struck Dash. He called out, “Gustaf!”
The mercenary appeared and said, “Sheriff?”
“Take two men and run to the city armory. See if we have any Quegan fire oil. If we do, here’s what you do with it.” Dash outlined his plan, then called to Mackey, “Hold things here while I’m gone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Dash hurried off the wall and ran down High Street, to the intersection of the North Gate road. He cut through burned-out buildings until he reached the cleverly cleared alley and he hurried through it, despite the predawn darkness.
He jumped fences and ducked under obstacles, risking injury to reach his goal in as timely a fashion as he could. He found the door he sought, a root cellar entrance from all appearances, but really a cover to one of the Mocker-controlled tunnels leading toward their headquarters.
He hurried down stone steps, as lightly as he could while keeping up a good rate of speed. He grabbed a stone wall corner with his left hand, steadying himself as he swung around.