Linsha felt as if someone had just kicked her in the stomach. Lanther was coming! By all the absent gods, how did he get here this fast? Her anger blew high. He was not going to deprive her of those eggs. Not when she was this close.
“Now!” she bellowed. She, Hugh, and Lord Bight threw themselves to the ground as a flight of arrows flew past them. The three Tarmak guards and the priest were killed instantly. Linsha rolled over and unstrapped the two swords she had carried behind her back. She tossed one to Hugh. Behind her she heard shouts and the clash of weapons. Bows twanged and someone screamed. There was a rumble of wooden wheels on stone paving, and she knew the wagon was on its way. Half a dozen freed Legionnaires and the elves ran out of the darkness and joined them.
“Come on!” she yelled to Hugh and clambered to her feet.
“What about him?” Hugh shouted, pointing to Lord Bight, who stood quietly on the street.
Linsha grinned. “He’s busy.”
Linsha and Hugh dashed into the building, followed by the men and elves. They met immediate resistance in the long central hallway where the guards and priests were charging out of various rooms and side halls. The small company fought well, but there were more Tarmaks than Linsha expected and this was taking too long. She ducked into a side room and signaled to her forces to fall back.
“Down!” she yelled. “Take cover!” Then she shouted out the door, “Now, Crucible! Now!”
The fighting abruptly stopped as a large draconic head appeared in the door. The Tarmaks and humans alike gaped in surprise. The dragon inhaled, and the humans and elves dropped to the floor. A brilliant white light shot down the hall and exploded on the Tarmaks. Once, twice, and again Crucible fired his breath weapon over the heads of the attackers, wiping out clusters of Tarmak warriors and priests. Smoke curled from the walls and the hall filled with the stench of burning wood, scorched stone, and cooked flesh. The hallway became silent.
More of Linsha’s men ran in the door. “The guards are dead outside,” a Legionnaire reported.
“Let’s get the eggs,” she said tersely. “Lanther is coming.” She caught Hugh staring at Crucible’s form just outside the portico.
“Where did he come from?” the knight asked in astonishment.
She just laughed, a sharp, edgy sound of tense humor. “I’ll tell you later.”
The company of egg hunters continued through the building to the stairs that led down to the vault. More Tarmaks attacked them, but there were very few warriors left, and those were disorganized and scattered. The Legionnaires and the few militiamen spread out to find the remaining guards while Linsha and her group hurried downstairs. They entered a stone hallway and found the way barred by half a dozen Keena priests. The black-robed Keenas held round bucklers and short swords.
This would be good time for some of Afec’s sleeping powder, Linsha thought. Without that, they would just have to do it the hard way.
“Back away!” she yelled down the stairs. “All we want are the eggs!”
A priest yelled something back that Linsha did not have to translate to the others.
The elves fired a barrage of arrows down the steps that wounded a priest, killed another, and scattered the rest. Under cover of the arrows, Linsha and her men charged down the stairs. The remaining priests fought zealously, but they were outnumbered by the ferocious rebels. The fighting was hard and bitter in such close quarters, and when it was over the priests and four of Linsha’s company were dead.
Cursing, she plunged her sword into the throat of the last priest and stepped over his body. She drew out of the key and thrust it into the lock, praying it would work. It did. The key turned, the lock opened, and the door swung open. A wave of heat washed over her. She caught a glimpse of firelight and glowing braziers when a hand reached through the door and grabbed her sword arm. A second hand clamped to her face and wrenched her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.
Pain exploded in her head.
Eggs in One Basket
19
Linsha gasped, her head reeling. Tie pain seared through her, shaking her resolve and stoking her fear. She tried to see who was speaking to her, but her vision was blurred and unsteady. All she could see was yellow light and a dark arm extending away from her. Sweat poured down her face and into her eyes, making her vision worse.
“I am Shurnasir, Priest of the White Flame and guardian of the dragon eggs,” a voice snarled at her. “Who are you that you dare disturb the peace of this sacred place?”
She gritted her teeth and fought back her fear. This was not Lanther. This was a mere priest, a second rate Tarmak, and like the Keena at the imperial palace, this priest did not have the same skill or strength that either Akkad had shown. The pain ebbed a little. Perhaps Afec’s belt was interfering with the magic that pounded at her head. Linsha did not know why the pain would be abating, and at that moment she did not care. She forced her hand upward to the three dragon scales that hung around her neck. They were heavy and sometimes irritating to her skin, but never had she been more grateful for them. She focused on the inherent power within each one and drew it forth, leeching out the magic of three different dragons.
“I am the Drathkin’kela and those eggs are mine!” she croaked.
Her other hand dropped the sword and clamped around the priest’s wrist. His eyes opened wide with surprise. His spell snapped and he fell back, crying with pain. She held onto him, bending his hand back in an unnatural angle, forcing him to his knees. Her green eyes turned to flint.
“How many eggs are here?” she snapped.
His face screwed up in agony and his reddish skin turned pale. “Nine,” he croaked. “The Akkad-Dar took two with him.”
“That bastard,” she swore, unconsciously putting more pressure on the priest. Something snapped. He moaned and flopped to his side. Linsha let him go, for at that moment she noticed the eggs. “They’re different! These are darker and duller,” she said. “Where are the brass eggs?”
She hauled the priest to his feet again and shoved him close to a hot brazier that glowed under a metal tray containing a layer of sand and one egg.
“We’ve been treating them,” the priest admitted. His eyes rolled back to see the brazier and his hands plucked nervously at her wrists.
“Treating them? Treating them with what?”
There was a tremendous shout in the corridor and the door slammed open. Sir Hugh and the rebels charged in prepared to rescue Linsha. When they saw her, her expression fearsome and her prisoner well in hand, they skidded to a halt in relief and surprise.
“What have you been treating them with?” Linsha repeated. She glanced at the soldiers around her and nodded. Several hurried away.
“I don’t know,” the priest gabbled. “A mixture the Akkad-Dar gave us.”
Linsha threw up her hands, shoving him aside. “Kill him,” she said to Sir Hugh. “He won’t cooperate.”
The knight drew back his sword to strike the priest, but Shurnasir cowered down. “All right! We’re treating the eggs with a special potion to make them hatch faster.”
Linsha couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that possible?” she asked the elves.
The four Qualinesti studied the eggs for a moment, looked at each other, and shrugged. “We have never heard of such a thing,” one said.
“But they do look as if they are ready to hatch,” commented the elder. “I have seen a clutch of brass eggs at this stage and they hatched within days.”
“Why would you do this?” Linsha demanded. “Those eggs aren’t supposed to hatch for years. You could be destroying the embryos.”