D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch (37 page)

Rudi wheeled his horse about, knocking a pair of soldiers over with the beast’s powerful shoulders. He flung his bow over his back and jumped down, abandoning his mount, then fought his way to Blossom’s side. Together, they cut a bloody swath to the marble porch of the mayor’s house.

Garett did his best to rally the garrison soldiers. He estimated their number at twenty. Twenty plus the four of them, against unknown scores. From the corner of his eye he saw a black-clad kick a soldier in the stomach and raise his sword for a deathblow as the man sagged. Without thinking, Garett ripped the throwing star from his left arm band and let fly. It caught the black-clad forcefully in the side of the throat, and blood fountained.

“Nice!” said a voice just behind him.

Garett risked a glance over his shoulder. It was another garrison soldier, a sergeant. As he watched, the man blocked an attack with his blade and quickly sidestepped to smash a black warrior’s nose with his sword pommel. Instantly, he followed through with a fatal thrust.

“"You’re not bad, either, Sergeant!” Garett complimented, turning to face his own foe. They traded a swift exchange of strokes. A sudden thrust passed just under Garett’s right arm as he leaned away from it. He brought his foot up with all his speed and might into the foe’s groin and brought Guardian whistling down. “Look me up if you ever want a job in the watch,” he added as the sergeant whirled around and they blocked a pair of blows together.

“You must be Garett Starlen,” the soldier said. “I hear you’re always trying to recruit from the cream of the garrison. We train ’em, and you take ’em away!” He dropped downward almost to one knee and chopped unexpectedly at his foe’s unprotected shin. The black-clad screamed as the blade went to the bone. The sergeant thrust upward, slamming his point under the chin to silence the scream.

“Is the mayor still inside?” Garett demanded when he had breathing space.

“We moved him to the Citadel earlier tonight,” the sergeant answered, wiping his forehead with the back of a sleeve. “It’s the safest place.”

“Not from birds that can fly over any wall or through any window!” Garett shouted back. “Let’s not waste lives defending this place then. Run for the Citadel!”

Garett turned and ran along the west side of the estate, calling to Blossom and Rudi as he went past the corner of the porch. Burge and the sergeant were close behind, followed by those few garrison troops who were able to disengage. Through a grove of lemon trees they raced, and over an open lawn. A low ridge rose before them. Scrambling up it, they emerged in another garden and finally into Wizard’s Row.

At the end of the road, the broken tower of the wizards’ guildhall loomed against the night sky. On either side of it, Kule and Raenei floated, burning and full, pouring silvery light upon the world. Necropolis! Garett thought with a silent curse. Nothing seemed more evil to him than those two full moons and that dark ruin of a tower.

“They’re coming up the ridge!” Burge warned, looking back over his shoulder.

Garett could .see nothing, but then he didn’t have Burge’s elven eyesight. He led the way at a run, back toward the Processional. A pair of blue-cloaked night watchmen lay dead in the middle of the street, blood pooling rapidly around them. Garett bent down and snatched up one of their swords, and Burge took the other.

Sounds of combat could still be heard from the High Market. The garrison troops must be holding their own there, Garett reasoned. He turned his party northward and raced for the Citadel. It was the strongest fortress in the city, and the seat of much of Greyhawk’s business and government. The city’s treasury was also secreted in vaults far below the barracks. It was natural that an enemy would try to take it.

“Didn’t think there’d be so many, Cap’n,” Burge managed to shout as they ran up the Processional.

Garett hadn’t expected it, either. A small force, he’d figured. Enough men to come through the sewers, maybe take a few key points and open the outer gates. He’d alerted gate posts for possible trouble, never guessing the trouble was already inside the city.

Suddenly, the Processional was littered with bodies. Citizens, Garett realized. They were cut and bleeding. Not all were dead yet, and their groans and weeping were pitiful to hear. But Garett could not stop to offer comfort. The sounds of fighting he heard now came from the Grand Citadel, and it was terrible indeed.

He rushed through the massive gates, which were halfclosed. Someone had tried to shut them, but too late. Black-clads were everywhere. So were garrison troops and watchmen. A few men fought naked, or in trousers only. Those were day-shifters who had been sleeping in the barracks when the fighting began. A couple of St. Cuthbert followers were also there, swinging their cudgels left and right with consummate fury. They called the name of their deity with every stroke.

A sword came hurtling down out of the shadows at Garett’s head. Reflexively, he brought up both his swords in a classic cross-block and caught the descending blade. He kicked out, finding soft flesh, as he drew back with Guardian and thrust. He barely had time to look at the dead man before another warrior was upon him. Garett met the foe and fought intensely with every dirty trick he knew.

A loud crack and the crashing of wooden timbers filled the air, rising even over the noise of the battle. Then another sound, a new tumult of voices, caused Garett to turn and stare toward the Citadel’s gate.

Led by watchmen and garrison soldiers, the citizens of Greyhawk surged into the courtyard. They attacked with knives, clubs, rakes, and shovels, with heavy skillets and broom handles. Watchmen fought alongside known thieves, and soldiers beside prostitutes. Yes, even the women fought to defend their city. A huge Rhennee bargeman grabbed a black-clad, lifted him overhead, and flung him with bone-cracking might against the battle wall. An old woman from Old Town flung herself, weaponless, onto the back of another warrior and gouged his eyes as she shrieked with anger.

The tide of battle turned against the black-clad army. The people of Greyhawk forced them to the walls and butchered them mercilessly, and the courtyard ran with blood.

It was then, in their moment of victory, that Garett felt the ground tremble ominously under his feet and Guardian began to shine like a star. His heart thundered with renewed fear. Desperately he turned, raising the enchanted sword high as he sought the source of the powerful magic.

And somehow, through the light of his sword, he saw Kentellen Mar high on the Citadel’s roof, his arms outspread as the wind swept through his hair and lashed his robes. A fiery energy surrounded him, an energy that rushed down and stabbed into the heart of the earth itself.

Garett ran to the Citadel’s entrance. The doors were sealed. No amount of tugging or pulling would budge them. On impulse, he stood back and struck at them with Guardian. Emerald light flared, and the blade passed through the wood as if it were vapor. When Garett tried the doors again, they opened at his touch.

A mighty wind swirled suddenly around him and swept into the Citadel, extinguishing every torch, every lamp or candle or lantern, leaving darkness in its wake. Utter, frightened darkness. But Garett was not frightened. With Guardian’s light to guide him, he went inside to confront Kentellen Mar.

Garett raced headlong through the corridors of the

Citadel. Not a lamp burned anyplace. But for the

light of Guardian, he would have been lost and helpless in the absolute dark. Up a flight of stairs he ran, taking them two at a time, and up another flight. Through the stone tiles under his feet he felt the tremors that threatened the city. Tiny streamers of plaster dust cascaded in delicate plumes from the ceiling. He did his best to ignore it all, thinking only of Kentellen Mar.

Higher and higher he went until he came to a wall and a ladder. At the top of the ladder was a trapdoor that opened to the Citadel’s roof. He climbed the rungs and set his hand against the door. He hesitated for only a moment, then pushed it open and sprang out.

The two moons, Kule and Raenei, burned spectacularly in the heavens, huge and bloated, more frightening than beautiful as they bled their gleaming light onto the rooftop. They hung poised over the Citadel, like eyes dispassionately watching the battle.

The wizard stood with his back to Garett at the edge of the roof, before a low parapet, his arms high, his hands working mysterious gestures as he wove a cone of energy. The wind blew fiercely at this height. It snatched Garett’s cloak and nearly flung him back into the hole from which he’d emerged. He crouched lower against the gusts.

The energy cone rippled suddenly, and coruscating lines of red-orange force lanced groundward. The Citadel gave a violent shudder, and the sound of screaming rose from far below.

Kentellen’s wide back presented itself. This was no time to think of honor, Garett told himself, not with a city at stake. He ripped his last throwing star free and hurled it with all his strength. Even as he let fly, a blast of wind caught his arm, and he knew he had missed his mark. The wizard gave a cry of pain and surprise, and lurched forward, clutching at the missile as it sank deep just under his right shoulder blade. With another loud moan, he sagged down onto one knee, and the cone of power dissolved.

Only then did Garett see Ellon Thigpen, bound hand and foot, gagged, bared to the waist. The mayor lay stretched precariously upon the parapet. He dared not even squirm for fear of falling over the side to the earth far below. Wide-eyed, he shot a look of terror at Garett. The wizard clutched at Ellon’s arm as he hauled himself to his feet and turned.

“Heirarch!” Garett shouted furiously, moving forward, raising Guardian to strike. It was not Kentellen Mar, he told himself. Kentellen could not have lived so many years among the people of Greyhawk and kept this kind of power hidden. Nor even if he had gone to the Shield Lands could he have learned so much during his time away. Whoever this man was, he had to be one of the great masters of the Horned Society.

The wizard’s mouth opened in a snarl. He flung out his hand, and a stream of fire leaped across the roof. Garett hurled himself aside to avoid its searing heat, rolled, and came to his feet again. He gripped Guardian in both hands and ran forward. The wizard’s brows knitted together in a hateful glare, and Garett bounced painfully off some invisible wall. The air rushed out of his lungs as he fell backward. Guardian clattered across the rooftop, out of his reach.

Something darted out of the shadows. Cavel! Garett had forgotten the little blond child. The boy snatched up the blade and aimed a blow at Garett head. As he did, he opened his small mouth, and the shrill, high-pitched cry that issued forth was nothing human. The cry was of a savage, angry bird.

Garett rolled aside, dodging the stroke, and scrambled to his feet. As the child delivered a second blow, Garett caught his hands and jerked Guardian from his grasp, reclaiming the sword as his own. In an instant, Cavel was on him, scratching and clawing, screeching that unnatural sound. Somehow, the boy got his legs wrapped around Garett’s waist. His young fists thundered and beat at Garett’s face.

A red haze of pain flooded Garett’s thoughts. Enraged, he flung the boy across the roof and turned again to advance on the wizard.

“Heirarch!” he called again in challenge. Again the invisible wall held him back, but this time Garett raised Guardian above his head and sliced downward through the restraining force. The sword flared, and a greenish rift formed in the air, then faded. The barrier gone, Garett advanced again.

“Stop! ” the wizard called, placing a hand on the chest of Ellon Thigpen. “Or this fool goes plummeting over the side!”

The mayor stared in horror at Garett and shook his head frantically. Garett debated within himself, but he stopped, his sword still held at the ready.

The wizard turned only slightly away, grimacing with pain from the throwing star still deep in his shoulder. He mastered himself, though, and drew erect. Keeping one hand on the mayor, he made a gesture with the other and shouted some foreign word into the wind. Just beyond the parapet, the strange cone of energy began to swirl again.

“If I can’t rule this city,” the wizard snarled at Garett, “then I’ll destroy it!”

“You’ve made a good start already!” Garett cried over the rush of the wind, trying to distract the wizard from his work. “First, it was the seers, because their powers might have detected your coming!”

The man who looked like Kentellen Mar threw back his head and laughed, but the laughter was tinged with pain as he winced suddenly. “Yes, the seers!” he barked. “I was very creative there, striking at them through their own scrying devices!”

The cone rippled like a snake swallowing its dinner. Lines of force shot downward from its heart and struck the earth, and the Citadel quivered and shook.

“Then it was the wizards!” Garett shouted again, stalling as he desperately sought a way to get to his foe without sacrificing Ellon Thigpen’s life. “Prestelan Sun nearly beat you. I saw you then, in the form of a giant bird!”

“Hah!” The wizard sneered. “You do not know everything yet, Garett Starlen.”

“I know you’re a Hierarch of the Horned Society!”

The wizard’s eyes narrowed as the cone rippled and the Citadel shook again. Only the hand upon his chest kept Ellon Thigpen from falling off as the parapet shivered under him. “Do you?” the wizard challenged. “Am I?”

“I know you’re not Kentellen Mar!” Garett answered, screaming. “You captured or killed him, probably while he was on the border of the Shield Lands.”

The wizard’s eyes crinkled with horrible mirth. “Yes, that was convenient, though my plan would have worked even without him. Soldiers transformed into birds! A magical work of genius! Who would have expected such a surprise attack?”

Garett advanced a step closer. Before he could do anything, he had to pull Ellon Thigpen from that wall. If he leaped fast enough, he might be able to do it. Then he could deal with his enemy. Time. He had to buy time to get closer.

“But it wasn’t a surprise, was it?” Garett taunted, taking another small step while, at the same time, ripping off his chin strap and casting his helmet aside, hoping the wizard would watch the motion of his hands and not his feet. “Some of us were prepared. I guessed enough of your plan to stop you.”