Malthooz whispered, "Stop."
Lifting his shaking hand, he pointed to the top of a ladder that showed just above the edge of the dock. They moved over to it and Vadania scrambled down. She stopped halfway and shifted to the side, hooking one leg around the ladder to brace herself. Mialee helped Malthooz get his foot on the top rung.
An arrow whistled past the wizard's ear. The gnolls were advancing down the row of ships. At their head was the packmaster, urging them on while holding Wotherwill's staff high above his head.
"Gnolls! Hurry," Mialee cursed as she watched Malthooz drop from sight.
How he found the strength to cling to the ladder, she didn't know. She leaped down, bypassing the ladder entirely, to land on a heap of rope on the lower dock. Despite Vadania's help, Malthooz lost his grip and the two of them crashed down as well.
The three of them struggled back to their feet and stumbled, dragged, and pushed themselves to the end of the dock, where a ship's boat was tied up. Vadania jumped in, then cushioned the fall of the half-orc when Mialee pushed him over the edge of the dock. Water sloshed into the small craft as they tumbled against the gunwale.
Arrows flew overhead and thunked against the sides of the boat or skipped erratically off the dock. The gnoll leader stood at the top of the ladder, waving the staff. His troops milled to either side of him, disorganized and disoriented but still dangerous. Spittle flew from the commander's snout as he barked and shouted at his pack. His words were incoherent, but the gnolls needed no encouragement to keep firing on the rowboat.
"If you have any ideas at all, do something quick," urged Vadania.
Mialee heard the druid's words, but only as background noise. Her fingers were already rummaging through the pouch at her belt with practiced familiarity. Vials and coins were hastily pushed aside or flipped out onto the bottom of the boat until she found what she was after. Mialee's hand brush something smooth and cold, and her fingers snapped around it. She yanked the bone scroll case from the bag and struck it against the side of the boat. The case split into pieces, letting the scroll spill into the wizard's waiting hands.
With the scroll clutched tightly, Mialee dropped to the bottom of the boat and rolled onto her back next to Malthooz. She ignored the arrows flying overhead, and the howls of the gnolls who thought they'd shot her, and she started reading from the scroll.
The magic tingled as it welled up in her hands. The words on the scroll twisted, blurred, and flowed together. She repeated the words seven times as the spidery, magical script faded from the face of the parchment. Fire coursed through the elf's veins as she raised herself up and stretched her arms toward the clustered gnolls. The used scroll fluttered into the harbor, sending out a series of concentric ripples as it settled on the surface of the water.
A spot of fire appeared in the air at the edge of the wizard's hand, looking like the pea-sized light of a firefly. The luminescent bauble streaked up the length of the dock and struck the pack-master in the chest.
The gnoll commander stared in wonder at the tiny light, unsure whether it was getting closer, or moving at all. As it hit him, his eyes grew wide with comprehension. A slight tremor ran through the air when light and leather met. The bead of magic drew oxygen in around itself, then let go. Fire and heat erupted into a blazing sphere of destruction.
Howls from the dying creatures could be heard above the whoosh and hum of the ball of fire. The cloud of flame engulfed the row of gnolls. Mialee flew back against the side of the boat as a wave of heat and flame passed overhead. She smelled the pungent stink of her own burning hair, singed by the searing graze of the flames. The scene at the end of the dock wavered through blurring and distorting lines of heat.
In the space of a few breaths, the pack was reduced to twisted, ashen shapes on the scorched planks. Their charred remains smoldered and crackled. Small piles of melted, misshapen arrowheads marked where quivers of arrows had burned away. Small embers still glowed, showing dots of red light along the length of the wharf. The tar-soaked timbers kept them alive, feeding them with a steady trickle of fuel.
Mialee pushed herself to her feet. She climbed out of the boat and stumbled down the dock, tripping over an embedded arrow.
The smell from the gnoll commander's body was overpowering. Mialee held her hands across her nose as she rolled the blackened corpse over with the toe of her boot. Wotherwill's staff was still clutched in the creature's skeletal hand. As she took hold of the artifact, the bones of the gnoll's fingers disintegrated. A quick shove with her heel sent the foul corpse tumbling into the bay. It sank slowly, leaving behind a sooty slick.
Vadania called to Mialee from the rowboat.
The wizard looked around and saw that the dock was rapidly coming to life and moving in her direction. She sliced the rope holding the craft to its mooring, hopped in, and used the staff to shove off from the dock. Vadania already had the oars slipped into the locks, and the two of them worked together to maneuver the boat out across the harbor. Mialee put her aching back into the work, watching the staff roll from side to side across the bottom of the boat.
21
Lidda stepped around the corner in time to see the barbarian crash headlong into the ranks of the gnolls. Those in his path were bowled to the ground and the rest scattered in all directions, trying to get beyond the reach of his sweeping axe.
She moved in the half-orc's wake, using the uproar and the darkness to hide her passage. The confused gnolls were too concerned about the possibility of Krusk turning back and charging them again to be aware of the small shape passing by in the shadows. Slowly, Yauktul pushed them back into a pack and they started moving again, toward Vadania, Mialee, and Malthooz. They weren't moving fast, the rogue noted, least of all Yauktul. The leader of the pack muttered to himself under his breath as though he was engaged in an argument with someone unseen. His jaw snapped from side to side as he engaged himself in dialogue. Lidda was not sure who was winning the debate, but she had no time to find out. Farther ahead, she saw Krusk jog to the far end of the alley and disappear around a corner.
The others would have to deal with the gnolls, Lidda decided, and she sprinted off in pursuit of the half-orc. They hadn't noticed her passing. She hoped the others would be as lucky.
The rogue rounded the bend at the end of the alley only to see Krusk turning down another street. At each corner it was the same. The barbarian wasn't pushing himself, but his legs were much longer than the halfling's. It was all Lidda could do to keep track of his twistings and turnings. She knew that even if she lost sight of Krusk, she could follow him by the heavy boot prints he left behind on the snow-dusted road and by the spatterings of red blood that also marked the trail. Clearly, at least some of the blood on his armor was his own. He probably didn't even know he was bleeding, Lidda thought, or if he did, he didn't care. He would not stop until either he or Flint was dead.
Lidda pushed herself harder, hoping to catch up to her quarry. Storefronts and inns raced past. From out of nowhere, a stooped form materialized directly in the rogue's path. With a yelp, Lidda slammed into the man. The two of them tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Lidda felt the chill of slush oozing across her chest as they slid to a stop. She lifted her head and saw Krusk receding into the distance. At her side, the man cursed her, shaking his fist. She jumped to her feet in one swift movement and ran on, but she took a different turn than the one Krusk had taken.
Lidda had little doubt where the barbarian was heading, even though he seemed uncertain of the route. There was a quicker way to the thieves guild, and the halfling intended to take it. Either Flint was weaving through the streets trying to shake Krusk's trail, Lidda thought, or the barbarian had already lost it and was desperately looking for the guild himself. Either way, the rogue knew that she could get there ahead of him. She cut across a wide junction of streets and passed into an alleyway. If she was wrong, Krusk would pay the price, hut she would never catch up to him the way he was moving.