Beyond, Arcturus could hear the hammer of weapons against the main doors of Vocans. Holes were appearing in the planking, casting beams of light across the courtyard. He had but a few minutes.
He slashed again in desperation, and missed completely, instead sinking the blade into the wood itself. It bit deep and was almost stuck, the water-rotted wood splintering easily beneath the cold edge of his steel.
“Wood,” Arcturus whispered.
He wrenched the axe free and chopped down once more, hacking in the dark at the wood that surrounded the hinges. Behind him, there was a snap as Sacharissa’s teeth parted one of the taut ropes holding the bridge in place. It lurched to the side, and he fell to one knee.
“Arcturus!”
His name drifted on the wind—someone in the escape party had noticed he was missing. No time for that now. The first hinge broke free from the surrounding wood with a crack, loosened by the shifting bridge. He began on the next one, swinging with wild abandon.
A bolt fluttered past his head, so close that he heard the thrum of its passing loud in his ear. As the atrium doors fell apart, men were firing through a large gap in its center.
Arcturus sent the wyrdlight flitting there, even as the next man aimed through the hole and fired. The light danced in front of the shooter’s eyes, dazzling him, while Arcturus was shrouded in gloom once more. The bolt went wide, clattering into the courtyard wall to his right. Arcturus swung again.
The wood of the second hinge crumbled and the jolt sent Arcturus sprawling, just in time to avoid another bolt that might have skewered him through the shoulder. He crawled for the last rope, where Sacharissa had gnawed it through to the final twisted strand. The platform was in the moat now, but held half floating in place by this last pulley.
“No!” a rebel yelled, seeing what Arcturus was about to do.
Arcturus swung one last time, and felt the bridge was afloat. He sprawled face-first to balance it and sent an order to Sacharissa, who dove into the black water and gripped the edge of the drawbridge with her teeth. Even with his weight alone, the water seeped over the edges and onto the front of his shirt. It would not bear the weight of more than a man at a time without sinking.
Sacharissa ignored the pain of her injured ribs, pummeling the water with her feet. Slowly, the long, flat piece of wood floated to the side, out of reach from where someone might pull it back into position and slowly crawl their way across. Arcturus slung his axe, and when they had floated a long stone’s throw away from where the bridge had been, he leaped across, soaking his breeches as he scrabbled against the steep edge of the moat and pulled himself up by handfuls of weeds and grass. Sacharissa clambered out beside him, shaking herself dry in a spray of murky water.
The last-ditch efforts of the crossbowmen thudded into the grass where he had been before, and Arcturus laughed at the screams of rage from within Vocans.
Then he was gone. Into the darkness.
CHAPTER
51
IT WAS EASY ENOUGH to find the group’s trail—too wet and exhausted to concentrate and pick up the scent, Arcturus simply followed Sacharissa.
He caught up with them within a few minutes, for they had been slowed by Elaine. She was being carried by a big-boned soldier, and fighting tooth and nail to go back and get Arcturus.
“Easy there,” Arcturus said as she jumped free and hugged him tightly. But soon he had to pry her away and take her hand, as the group had not waited for their reunion but continued their flight across the rolling hills of southern Hominum.
They were traveling in pitch darkness, for torches would make an easy beacon for any pursuers to follow. So they cursed and stumbled on, skinning their hands and legs on loose rocks as their route twisted into the untamed countryside, away from the pastures and fields.
Finally, Ulfr gave them a brief respite, lying down on his back and waving at the others to take a breather. The dwarf had pushed himself hard, for his shorter legs made him a poor runner.
“Where the bloody hell were you?” Sergeant Caulder panted as Arcturus and Elaine caught up with him.
“I cut loose the drawbridge,” Arcturus said, collapsing beside the veteran soldier.
“Damned fool thing to do,” Sergeant Caulder replied. “You’d have died if they’d made it through before you’d finished.”
“It bought us more time than we had,” Arcturus said, finally managing to pry his hand away from Elaine’s. “It will take them a while to get enough men across—and I reckon they’ll need to wait for at least fifty before they’re confident they could beat us. We might have a half hour’s start on them, depending on the number of swimmers they have.”
“We’ll see,” Sergeant Caulder grunted. “The dwarf won’t tell us where we’re going. But he says we’re close. I’ll believe it when I see it though. Even if we go underground, the dogs can follow us in. They’ll catch up with us eventually.”
“Could we head for Corcillum instead?” Arcturus asked. “They can’t have more than a dozen horses in Vocans’s stables. Enough to catch up with us, but not to beat us.”
He gestured at the thirty-odd soldiers sitting around them, groaning with exertion. They had been carrying their heavy shields, spears and crossbows, as well as the mail and surcoats they wore as part of their uniform. It slowed them down, but made them a formidable force.
At this rate, the lightly armored and armed rebel foot soldiers would catch up to them eventually. Sergeant Caulder’s words mirrored Arcturus’s thoughts.
“We’re traveling too slow; even their men on foot will catch us before we reach the capital. As for the cavalry, they’ll ride by us, and tell every damned rebel in Hominum to watch for our entry on the city’s edge.”
“So we’re going to be caught either way?” Elaine asked.
“That’s the long and short of it,” Sergeant Caulder said. “But maybe the dwarf can pull off a miracle for us.”
Arcturus didn’t have time to contemplate that, as Ulfr led them toward what appeared to be a steep hill, its side so sheer that Arcturus wondered why they didn’t go around it.
But then he saw it, as the cloud blocking the moon above finally drifted aside. A cave entrance, as wide and high as two men were tall, its depths shrouded in the darkest shadow.
“This is where we’re hiding?” Zacharias announced skeptically. “We’ve left enough footprints for them to follow us, even without hunting dogs. We might as well be sitting in an open field.”
“Just follow me,” Ulfr snapped, stomping into the cave. “And keep your mouth shut if it’s only going to spout idiocy.”
Zacharias gazed after the dwarf with malice, but did not respond. For a moment the soldiers hesitated, staring into the blackness. Then a light flared, a beautifully warm orange that drew the wet and freezing Arcturus forward like a moth to a flame. Ulfr held a torch high above his head, and in embrasures alongside him, other torches were held in sconces. He lit these with a sweep of his arm and motioned for the nearest soldiers to pick them up. Then he hurried into the tunnel.
“Come on!” Prince Harold ordered. “They could be on us any minute.”
“You trust this fool?” Zacharias moaned. “What are these sneaky dwarves up to, hiding torches in caves. They’re as bad as the rebels.”
“Then you can stay here and enjoy the rebels’ company instead,” Arcturus said harshly, taking a torch of his own and following Ulfr into the cave. He didn’t wait to find out what Zacharias would do. Instead, he relished the warmth that the flame gave off and ran headlong behind the dwarf.
Long, blunt cones of stone grew from the ceilings and floors, some even combining to form strange, middle-pinched pillars scattered along the way. Soon the escape party was straggled in a long line in the cave, following the glow of light from those ahead and slowing to make sure that those behind could still see theirs.
The path split more times than Arcturus could count, and Ulfr led them unerringly one way or the other. It was apparent he knew this place, though for what purpose, Arcturus could only guess.