Part 24 (2/2)

The young officer came alongside him. 'Sir, I'm supposed to take you to the Palace. The Captain ordered . . .'

'I'll explain to your Captain, young man,' Hawklan replied resolutely. 'It seems to me that that,' he pointed ahead to the smoke-filled horizon, 'is somewhat out of the ordinary and very serious. I imagine that most people at the Palace will be too busy to deal with visiting envoys at the moment. Whether we arrive an hour or so late will be of no consequence. On the other hand, I am a healer, and healers will be needed at that fire, don't you think?'

The young man hesitated, but Hawklan kept increasing his pace steadily, leaving the man little choice but to follow. He heard Serian chuckle. The other horses were breathing heavily and beginning to sweat, but Serian was taking the long uphill way into the City effortlessly. High above, Gavor flew ahead, spurs unsheathed, maintaining the silent vigil he had kept since they left the village.

When they entered the City proper, Hawklan found himself badly disorientated by the numerous streets.

'Which way quickly!' became his watchword to keep his escort on the move and prevent their having time to think.

The two great columns of smoke now filled the sky and were spreading out at a great height to cover the sun and throw the City into a premature twilight. The sun drifted in and out of view, round and sickly yellow. As the group neared the fire, the streets became more crowded and the noise of the blaze could be heard. But it was mingled with another noise fighting. Hawklan looked at the crowds milling round.

Some seemed to be running away from something, while others seemed to be running purposefully towards it.

He leant down from his horse. 'What's happening?' he shouted to a man running by.

The man, breathless and red-faced, pointed back the way he had just come. 'The Mathidrin,' he said.

'They're attacking the people.' Then with a fearful glance at Hawklan's escort he ran off before Hawklan could speak to him again.

Hawklan looked at the young officer who shrugged off his unspoken inquiry, though he was beginning to look decidedly uneasy.

At the end of the street they came to a large square, and a scene unfolded before them like a waking nightmare. People were running in every direction, shouting and screaming. Faces flickered in front of Hawklan, faces alight with terror, with rage, faces blank and lost with bewilderment and shock. The healer in him reeled at the pain. The jangling of the alarm bell filled the air, echoing from rooftop to rooftop, but above it rose the crackle and roar of the blazing buildings, even though they were still some distance away and could not be seen. The whole was pervaded by a retching smell and a sinister half light formed by the unnatural cloud.

As he surveyed this sight, Hawklan felt the jarring impact of two concussions and looking up he saw a misshapen ball of yellow fire climbing rapidly up the white column like some fearsome escapee. It bathed the crowd in a s.h.i.+mmering jaundiced hue and for a moment there was silence as everyone turned to watch its scrambling ascent. Then the noise broke out again, louder than ever.

Hawklan was uncertain about what to do. Looking at the milling crowd, he thought he saw some pattern, some order to it, but it was too fluid for him to define. A cry by his side made him turn. One of the Mathidrin was holding a hand to his forehead, blood running between his fingers. Then a stream of missiles engulfed them, and a section of the crowd closed around them roaring and shouting.

'The Lords, girl. Where are they?' The Mathidrin officer's tone was icy. Sylvriss looked up at him, her voice frozen within her by the menacing presence of the three men. The Mathidrin closed his eyes briefly as if looking inwards for patience. Then opening them, he peered into the darkness of her hood. 'The Lords, girl. Where are they?' he repeated slowly and distinctly, as if to a foolish child. 'They're to be moved to safer quarters and no one's bothered to tell us what room they're in.'

Slowly Sylvriss began to gather her wits. Luck was running both for and against her. These men were strangers here. They took her for one of the servants in her grey cloak. She could escape unrecognized.

But they were going to remove the Lords and then everything would be lost. A desperate resolve formed in her mind, and nervously she pointed a shaking finger towards the key in the door.

'In here?' asked the man. She nodded. The Mathidrin pushed her to one side and, turning the key, opened the door wide. Two of them walked in, leaving the third in the pa.s.sage. Sylvriss followed them.

The four Lords stood up as the Mathidrin entered.

Before anyone could speak Sylvriss, standing behind the two Mathidrin, threw back her hood so that the Lords could see her, then drawing her knife she cried, 'Lords. Kill these men now. This will be your onlychance of escape.' And she lunged with the knife at the back of the nearest Mathidrin.

But the surprise on the Lords' faces betrayed her and the man was turning even as she spoke. He stepped to one side, seized her hand in a pitiless grip and, with a slight twist, brought her down on to her knees. The knife was taken from her effortlessly and levelled at her throat.

Crying out, the four Lords moved forward almost as one, but the first guard struck Arinndier a back-handed punch in the midriff that doubled him up, impeding Darek, then reaching quickly round Eldric's head he gripped the back of his hair and swung him round to block Hreldar's advance. The guard holding the Queen watched, his face concerned. He spoke to them urgently in a language that Sylvriss did not understand and the Lords froze in surprise. Sylvriss found herself released and the hand that had held her so easily on her knees reached out and helped her gently to her feet. She was shaking and bewildered. 'Majesty, forgive me,' said the guard, offering her knife back to her, hilt forward.

'What's happening?' gasped Sylvriss, looking from face to face. 'Who are these men, Lord Eldric?'

'I don't know what's happening, Majesty, but these men are Goraidin,' he replied. 'This man is Yatsu, the others I don't know yet.'

'It would appear you both came to rescue us at the same time,' said Darek.

'Lords, Majesty,' said Yatsu urgently. 'We've no time for debate. The City's in turmoil, but it's only a matter of time before the Mathidrin reserves get here. We bl.u.s.tered our way in through the confusion, but the longer we delay the more likely it is we'll have to fight our way out.'

Eldric raised his hands to his temples as if to shake his bewildered thoughts into order. Then, 'The Queen, Yatsu, what of the Queen?' he asked.

Sylvriss answered before Yatsu could speak. 'I'll return the way I came, Lord Eldric. I'll be quite safe.

You go, quickly.'

Eldric looked uncertain.

Sylvriss ignored his doubt. 'Go now, quickly, or we'll all be doomed. You must escape while you can.

Dan-Tor must be fought.'

Eldric still hesitated. Abruptly he fell on his knees and took the Queen's hand in both of his. Words formed on his lips but he could not speak them.

Suddenly there was the sound of running feet in the pa.s.sage and the third guard entered. 'The others are here,' he said urgently. 'Hurry. We've not much time.'

Eldric rose to his feet and after a quick glance around the room signalled the others to follow.

As they hurried out, Sylvriss took Yatsu's arm. 'Goraidin Yatsu. Secretary Dilrap and the young servant are to be trusted,' she said. 'But that knowledge is for you and the Lords alone. They're in continual danger.'

'Majesty,' said Yatsu, concerned. 'You're certain you'll be safe?' She nodded confidently and ushered him after the others. He hesitated for a moment, his face anxious, before bowing and striding off rapidly down the pa.s.sage. Sylvriss rubbed her wrist ruefully as she watched him go then, throwing her hood forward, she walked quickly and silently back the way she had come. On the journey she pa.s.sed two dead Mathidrin.

It was Serian, rather than any decisive horsemans.h.i.+p by Hawklan, that led Hawklan and Isloman from the crowd. He had reared and screamed as if in panic, and then charged straight into the mob, splitting it open before him like wood under a cleaver. Isloman's horse followed suit down the widening cleft, its rider contenting himself with hanging on desperately. Eventually they came to a halt in a narrow and relatively quiet street.

Hawklan leaned forward. 'Thank you, Serian,' he said breathlessly.

The horse chuckled again. 'Great fun, great fun,' he said.

'Don't do that again,' said Isloman, riding to Hawklan's side. 'You frightened me to death.'

Hawklan shrugged. 'It was the horse's idea,' he said. 'Left to our own devices that crowd would've had us down very quickly.'

Isloman grunted at this disclaimer. 'What did they attack us for?' he asked.

'I don't think they were attacking us,' Hawklan replied. 'I think they were attacking those Mathidrin.

c.o.c.kroaches, they were calling them.'

'Good name,' said Isloman, who had reached the same conclusion about the Mathidrin as Hawklan during their journey.

'Still,' Hawklan continued, 'we could have been badly hurt in all that confusion. We're well out of it.' He patted Serian's neck.

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