|
"I like
your plan. Let's get out of here."
The leader
of the dwarves planted herself in the doorway in response, her grim
smile seeming to indicate that she looked forward to Gaven's attempt to
get past her. Gaven spat a few arcane words, sheathed his body in
crackling blue flame, then lunged toward the dwarf who had knocked him
down.
"That's
right, knock into me now," he said with a grin.
As he had
hoped, the dwarf avoided his lunge, which provided Gaven the opening he
needed to reach his sword. He lifted the blade and swept it in a wide
arc that forced the dwarf back another couple of steps. That gave Gaven
room to reach the desk and pick up the box with the Heart of Khyber in
it.
He glanced
at Senya, who was still on the defensive, warding off a flurry of cuts
and jabs. "Come on," he said. He jumped onto the desk and threw himself
at the window.
Heavy
shutters splintered around him, and he fell. Another syllable of a spell
brought his fall under control, and he floated gently from the
second-story window to the street below. He looked up just in time to
see Senya hurtle out the window, somersaulting in the air and landing
hard on her feet nearby.
A crossbow
bolt bit into Gaven's shoulder, and he glanced around. He hadn't seen a
crossbow on any of the dwarves upstairs, which meant there was at least
one more waiting here on the street. He heard one of the dwarves follow
Senya out the window, and he knew the other wouldn't be far behind.
Shaking his head, he broke into a run.
Rain hissed
into steam as it made contact with the flames wrapping his body, and he
laughed as he ran. He felt the wind at his back, and he willed it to
carry Senya along with him, and it obeyed his will. His feet barely
touched the ground--he felt the cobblestones brushing the soles of his
boots as he ran. Then the cobblestones ended, and it was rocks and grass
that kissed his feet as he ran along the river out of the city. He let
the fire wash off his body and felt the rain splatter on his face and
drench his clothes. No more thought of pursuit entered his mind. He was
the wind, carrying Senya as he blew--he was the rain, dancing in the
wind and pattering on the ground. He was the storm.
When he
finally stopped running, he stood with his face to the rain, his arms
outstretched, and laughed. Senya collapsed on the ground at his feet,
and still he laughed. |
