Large watery eyes focused on Tilda, pink pupils in deep sockets, and it gave a snorting roar that flecked thick white spittle into the yard. It lunged its head through the open gate, banging the iron door against the side with a resounding clang, and the wall started to break inwards along the mortar lines.
“Back inside!” John Deskata bellowed, as he had just appeared in the back doorway of the house, and now disappeared just as fast. Tilda backpedaled and threw her dagger as the hulking demon drew back for another push. The blade flung true, but bounced off the monster’s pink, piggy snout, getting no more than an irate snort.
Tilda turned and ran for the door, heard the crack of a shot from above, and the ping of a lead ball off the stones at her feet. She looked up as she ran and saw a demoness perched on the edge of the roof, all in black leather and with wide bat-wings spread out behind her against the gray sky. She was holding a smoking pistol and cackling. Then Tilda was back inside with Amatesu right behind her. John slammed the back door just as there was a crash of tumbling stones from the fence.
“This is a problem,” John said.
“You think?” Tilda sputtered at him. She drove a dagger into the frame of the door and stomped on it with her heel, but if the stone wall had not held back the demon the back door was not going to do much better.
“Upstairs!” John yelled, hammering his sword on his shield and running back into the next room, where Heggenauer and Zeb were holding a doorway with mace and axe. Uriako Shikashe stood behind them and ready to relieve either. Claudja and Phin, both looking pale and with their eyes wide, rushed up the stairs with Nesha-tari walking behind them.
Boards splintered in the middle of the back door and the silver spearhead jabbed into the room, poking wildly about. Shikashe ran in and brought his katana down on the shaft behind the head, but the spear was all of one shining piece and the weapons rang as they hit each other, staggering back the surprised samurai. The spear was quickly withdrawn and the giant pig-ape bellowed, managing to spray more spit in through the gap in the door.
“What the hell?” Zeb yelled as he ran in from the next room. Blood was running down his face from a slash on his scalp.
“Stop saying that!” Heggenauer shouted, backing through the door with John Deskata, their shields locked together and ringing with thrown hand axes.
“Upstairs!” John yelled again and Tilda went next, with Zeb right behind her. She ran into a room where Claudja and Phin huddled against a wall while Nesha-tari frowned out the back window.
“What about the front stairs?” Claudja asked her, and Tilda ran that way. She reached the stairs just as a snarling hobgoblin was pounding up them and jerked her buksu from her back. She clubbed the thing’s helmet three times before it fell back down the stairs, bowling over several of its howling fellows.
Zeb ran in behind her, panting and wincing.
“Are you all right?” Tilda asked.
“This? Just a head wound. I fell down the stairs a while back.”
The rest of the party filed in, stumbling and knocking weapons against the wall. Deskata slammed the hall door to the back of the house behind them and Shikashe took Tilda’s place at the head of the stairs. Squealing and snarling erupted from below. There was a pained scream from a deep-throated hobgoblin, followed by banging and bashing as the remaining hobgoblins cleared out of the house. A satisfied snort came from below.
“Back door again?” Claudja asked.
“There is a demoness with a pistol down there,” Amatesu said quietly, leaning against a wall. Her voice was slightly strange and as Tilda glanced at her she saw the shukenja was holding her limp right arm by the elbow. Heggenauer pushed his way toward her.
“Are you shot?” he asked, and Amatesu nodded.
“I think it has broken both bones. And I cannot heal another wound today.”
Heggenauer put his shield aside and let his gory mace hang from his wrist as he pulled off his gauntlets.
“Allow me, sister,” he said. Tilda had forgotten for a moment that the man was a cleric as well.
John was frowning in deep thought, his eyes on the stairs up which the snorts of the big pig demon still sounded. He looked at Nesha-tari, then at Zeb.
“Does she have enough juice to blow up that thing?”
Zeb stared at him. “Juice?”
John waved his hand holding a bloody sword.
“Magic, spells, whatever. Can she knock that thing down, at least long enough for us to kill it or run away?”
Zeb asked Nesha-tari, who looked back at him and shook her head.
White light flared from Heggenauer’s hands, each clasped tenderly against Amatesu’s forearm. The shukenja sighed and gave a pretty smile, and nodded thanks at the cleric.
A horn sounded from outside, several long blasts, and everyone tensed. Claudja peered out a front window between the shutters.
“The hobgoblins have fallen back to the bridge, but they are not charging.”
“That is a signal horn,” John said. “They are calling for reinforcements.” He looked around at the others. “We can’t hole-up in here. We rush the demons now, or we are trapped.”
The party looked at each other, tired, worn, and beaten down, with no one showing much confidence. The Circle Wizard, Phin, cleared his throat. He still clutched the heavy satchel and now he slowly withdrew a thick book from inside.
“There are teleport spells inscribed within this,” he said quietly. “I may be able to cast one.”
John’s fierce eyes snapped to him. “You said they don’t work through the veil around the city.”
“They don’t,” Phin said, and he looked around with an expression Tilda wanted to read as confident, but really was not even very hopeful. “They might, however, work inside the city.”
The others stared at him.
“Maybe,” he said again.
*
The Shugak had driven the merchants away from the front gate of Vod’Adia when Black Danavod ordered her Magdetchoi in to pursue the Wizard. The bullywug shaman Kerek, the Mistress’s most special favorite, thought the merchants had set up again further down the main street, but he did not much care. He had deployed his hobs and wugs around the entrance plaza to ward all the streets from behind barricades. While the adventuring parties still entering the place were allowed to pass through, all those seeking exit were to be stopped and thoroughly examined. Those were his orders from Danavod.
Kerek himself took up residence in a smoke tent set up in front of a building which a band of Shanatarian priests had cleaned for use as a hospital. The clerics had been shooed out of the plaza with the other humans and such, and Kerek used some extra cloth bandages they had left behind to keep his braziers burning, puffing foul smoke about the plaza. He was within the lodge, cross-legged and meditating among the fires as he awaited any new word from his Mistress, when alarm croaks and hobgoblin shouts roused him. He uncoiled his legs and hopped out of the tent flap just in time to see two running men in armor disappear into the mist-shrouded passage through the towering black gatehouse.
“What was that?” he croaked, and a chorus of answers came from roofs. Nine people had appeared in the middle of the plaza as though by magic, then raced out of the gate before any of Kerek’s slack-jawed minions had managed to do anything but point at them.
Danavod was not going to be pleased.
“Chase!” Kerek croaked.
*
Phin was more surprised than anyone, for he had hardly committed the plaza to memory when he had passed through it four days ago with Claudja and the unlamented legionnaires. He knew he would have a better chance of teleporting into the small house where he had spent the first night in the city, but that place was still far from the gate. Even worse, given the building’s size and the fact that he would be teleporting a full nine people, Phin was sure that he would have put someone into a wall, with results he did not want to consider.