Thribble screamed, “The roof! The domed roof of the prisoners’ compound! The walls seem to be thick stone, but the roof must be made of weaker, lighter material. If you could fly onto that, you might be able to batter your way through."
"That sounds like a better plan,” Erik said, “unless they have bows or guns."
"I have seen no evidence of such weapons,” the imp replied.
Shakkar nodded. “That does seem a more harmonious option,” he said. “Let us fly now."
Thribble scurried onto Erik's shoulders, and the soldier bent his back so that Shakkar might catch hold of his webbing. The titanic demon grunted, launching himself into the sky on whispering wings.
Grimm scanned the domed roof with wondering eyes, assessing the possibilities. He thought back to his confrontation in the Pit at Yoren, and his clumsy, but successful, attempts at flight.
"Putting off the moment, eh, Questor Grimm?"
The mage started at the voice of General Quelgrum, close behind him.
"What do you mean, General?"
Quelgrum shrugged. “Let's face it, Lord Baron; you lost a lot of respect after you had your little breakdown. We're into a damage limitation exercise, now. You've got to try to convince these people that it was just a momentary blip, and that it won't happen again. You really can't put it off any longer. Staring at the ceiling won't help you."
Grimm did not take his eyes off the dome high above him.
"That wasn't what I was thinking about, General,” he said. “I just thought that ceiling looks pretty thin-relatively thin, anyway. I can fly, after a fashion, and I reckon I might be able to break through. It might take a lot of my energy, but, once outside, I should be able to summon my staff, Redeemer, assuming they haven't put it in some iron vault."
The old soldier sighed. “And then? The Revenants can flood this place with gas; I've used it myself, on occasion, and I can promise you it works pretty fast. And what if they have put Redeemer in an iron vault?"
"They'd have to get here first, General,” Grimm said. “Up on the dome, with the aid of the strength I've stored in Redeemer-or even without it-I should be able to do something before they arrive. If I fall, Guy can take over."
"And then?"
Quelgrum sighed. “Look, Lord Baron, I'm pleased you're trying to think of ways out of this hole, but I do think we ought to be aware of the whole situation before we act. By the sound of things, Uncle Gruon can last a time before he needs another dose of blood from us. It might be better to bide our time and wait; at least we know they'll feed us well in the meantime."
"A woman is going to die tomorrow, General Quelgrum!” Grimm snapped. “Don't you care? And then there'll be another, and another, until we admit defeat and become happy little slaves, measuring out our lives in generous meals designed to enrich our blood for dear Uncle Gruon's delectation! I say we try something-anything-while we still can!"
"If you're determined,” Quelgrum said with a shrug, “then I suppose I can't stop you. But it sounds like a hare-brained plan to me. None of us, except perhaps you and Questor Guy, has any weapons."
"I've spent a lot of my life thinking, General. The essence of being a Mage Questor is to act! Are you with me or against me?"
Quelgrum raised his eyes to the slate-blue dome above him, and back to the young mage. “All right,” he said. “I advise you against it, but I won't balk you if you're determined to go ahead. I'll get the others."
"Thank you, General Quelgrum. That's all I can ask of you."
Despite his confident tone, Grimm felt far from convinced of his chances of success. His first and only attempt at flight had been a clumsy balancing act, a semi-controlled tumble to the ground, and he had been able to draw on the aid of Redeemer to sustain him. Even assuming he managed to rise smoothly to the centre of the dome, he would still need to break through the structure.
The middle of the ceiling could be opened from the outside, to allow the Sacrifices to be extracted. Perhaps the opening mechanism was accessible from inside the rotunda. Then again, if the roof was reinforced with pure iron, like the walls, his magic might be nullified. His bare hands would never suffice to break through the structure.
As the General moved off to discuss the plan with the other warriors, Grimm continued to stare at the ceiling, considering his options.
"So Dragonbluster, here, thinks he can get out of here and take on the whole of Brianston?” Guy said, snorting. “Let him try it, say I!"
"I never said I could fight all of them, Brother Mage!” Grimm protested. “But I do feel we should do something, while we still can!"
"Something?-such a lovely word!” The Great Flame's voice dripped with contempt. “Perhaps this marvellous something will take us all to paradise in a golden carriage! Perhaps we can all-"
Grimm raised his hands in exasperation.
Can someone shut up this big-mouthed, self-opinionated-?
At that moment, as if in answer to Grimm's prayer, he heard a thunderous thump, high above him. He looked up to see the wooden chair swaying in sympathy with the loud, rhythmic noise.
Breeders began to run from their chambers, staring in wonder at the vibrating dome, some screaming in terror. Now, a fine tracery of cracks could be seen, running through the slate-blue ceiling. Fine dust fell with each dull, pounding sound, and the chair, hanging at a crazy angle, crashed to the ground. Larger shards of material began to crumble away from the cracks, and Grimm saw the dome begin to deform and quiver with each thump.
"Get away from there!” Quelgrum cried, waving frantically at the milling Breeders. “I think it's about to-"
With a crunching, tearing, groan, the very centre of the dome fell in a tangle of wood, rope and tackle, and Grimm could see a pair of grey, black-clawed hands tearing at the rent in the structure, widening it.
It's Shakkar! the mage thought, his heart leaping in his chest. I don't know how he found us, but thank the Names he's here!
Further lumps of metal and stony material tumbled to the floor, sending the Breeders scurrying away to the walls.
The onlookers stood, open-mouthed and silent, as a huge, grey-green figure thumped to the floor of the rotunda in a welter of dust, blue shards and metal. Shakkar fell heavily, landing on top of the remains of the chair, shattering it into splinters with a tumultuous crash.
For a few moments, the demon lay still, atop the pile of debris, and Grimm feared that Shakkar had been hurt. However, the netherworld titan was no vulnerable construct of frail, human flesh and bones, and he soon staggered to his feet, shaking his head and raising a veritable dust-storm of detritus.
As the dust began to clear, Grimm ran over to the dust-clouded Seneschal and crowed, “Shakkar! It is so good to see you!"
Shakkar offered a clumsy bow from within his attendant cloud of grey-blue motes and shards. “I apologise for my-aah… aah… CHOW!-for my lateness, Lord Baron."
Grimm turned to the open-mouthed older Questor, trying to give the impression that this destructive spectacle had been planned from the start. “It's Seneschal Shakkar, Questor Guy. Aren't you pleased to see him?"
The Great Flame's mouth worked to no effect, and Grimm smiled.
"Don't stand like that, Brother Mage,” he chided. “Somebody might mistake you for a fish and reel you in on the end of a line."
Crest, Harvel, Quelgrum, Numal and Tordun, overcoming their astonishment, rushed to greet the towering apparition.
"Shakkar! You couldn't have come at a more…"
"…I was just saying…"
"…needed a miracle…"
"…answer to our prayers!"
"…so glad to see you!"
Only Guy Great Flame remained aloof from the joyous, impromptu reunion, seeming to have regained his customary sardonic composure.
"A hole in the roof-how splendid!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure we all needed a little extra ventilation. How does that get us out of this place?"