“How many guard Lalila and the child?”
“Three, the last I saw.”
“Do you know where my ax is?” Kwasin said.
“The ax and Hadon’s sword are kept in my father’s apartment.”
“Such luck!” Kwasin bellowed.
“Ten men guard them,” Hadon said. He went into the entrance room and took a numatenu sword. It wasn’t Karken, the Tree of Death, but it would do.
Hadon told the others what to do. Awineth put the dagger in her belt and chose an infantryman’s sword. Hadon said “You hang back, but if you see anybody in trouble, you may help him.”
“I am not a man,” she said, “but I have trained with the sword since I was a small child. Bhukla has had many sacrifices from me.”
Hadon went into the next room, the others behind him. This was twice as large as the bedroom, being a hundred feet long and forty wide. In its center was a sunken marble bath ringed by statues of the beasts and heroes of the nine-year Great Cycle. Its gold-plated and jeweled door was at the far end, which was a good thing, since it had kept the guards from hearing the noise within. They passed through this, opened the door, and went into another large room. On the left as they stepped into it was the door which gave entrance to the corridor.
Hadon said, “Call to them, Awineth.”
Awineth rapped on the door with a heavy golden knocker. A voice came through the thick oak bronze-bound door. “What is it, O Queen?”
“Your officer has had a fit, one probably brought on by the fear of the quake. The Divine One has seized him.”
There was a moment of silence, then the soldier said, “Your pardon, O Queen. But we have orders from Minruth himself that no one is to open this door but Major Kethsuh.”
“How can he do that when he is jerking and foaming at the mouth?” she said. “But I do not care, even if no one now guards me.”
“Do they know of the shaft exit?” Hadon said.
“No.”
“Then they won’t be worried that you will escape.”
The guard outside said, “One of us will summon an officer, O Queen, and he may decide what to do.”
Hadon whispered to Awineth. She said, “Just a moment. I think that the major is reviving. I will see if he is capable of staying on duty.”
“As you wish, O Queen.”
Hadon was relieved. He did not want any more soldiers brought to this end of the palace.
“We won’t be able to get any of them in here,” he said. “So we’ll go out after them.”
He unbarred the door, waited a minute to assure himself that the others were in position, and then shoved the door outward. It struck one of the guards; the other was standing back a few paces, facing Hadon. He brought his spear up, but Hadon’s sword sheared it and on the return stroke cut half through the man’s neck. Paga fell on the soldier on the floor and stabbed him in the eye. Kwasin leaped over the two and charged down the long hall, the bard and the scribe behind him.
There were two soldiers before the door at the end of the hall. One ran, doubtless to get help; the other stood his ground. Kwasin bellowed and hurled the ax, and it rotated, its butt striking the fleeing soldier and knocking him down. Kwasin swerved after the fallen man, leaving Kebiwabes and Hinokly to deal with the lone sentinel. This man began shouting an alarm. The felled man got to his feet and picked up his spear, but Kwasin smashed it aside and split his bronze helmet and his skull. Hadon ran to help the scribe and the bard. Before he arrived, the scribe had cut through the spear and Kebiwabes had chopped down on the man’s arm. The soldier staggered back against the door, then slumped down as Kebiwabes cut through his neck.
Hadon burst through the door, causing Lalila, sitting on a chair, to scream. Abeth came running through the door beyond, then halted to stare white-faced at Hadon. A moment later, both were weeping, laughing, and hugging him. Hadon freed himself, looked at her bruised face, and said, “No time for that. Come with me.”
He halted. Awineth stood in the door, her large dark-gray eyes bright. “So this is the way it is?” she said.
“She has never said she loved me,” Hadon replied.
Kwasin entered, saying, “Let us go after our weapons, Hadon.”
“We have five men against ten,” Hadon said. “All ten are professional swordsmen, and three of us are unskilled with the sword. The odds are too high against us. Besides, the men in the shaft will have told Minruth what has happened, and he will know at once where we are. We must get away before he sends more men up here.”
Kwasin said nothing. He stuck his sword and the handle of his ax in his belt and lifted a long and massive oak table. Holding it vertically before him as if it were a shield, he walked through the door.
Hadon cursed and said, “My duty is to see that the women are gotten out of here. Yet I feel—”
“That you are deserting him?” Paga said. “No such thing. He is deserting us for his own mad reasons. You have no reason to feel that you are a coward, Hadon.”
“I know,” Hadon said. “But if we were at his side, perhaps…”
He stopped and then said, “Back to the room!”
“I wish that I could witness that battle,” Kebiwabes said. “The last battle of the hero Kwasin! What a scene for my epic!”
“You would have to be alive to sing it,” Paga said, “and you won’t be if you stay here.”
Hadon did not think that Kebiwabes would ever sing of anybody, but he thought it wise not to say so.
He led them back to Awineth’s apartments, where they barred the doors behind them as they proceded to the entrance room. Here he stationed the others behind him while Awineth pulled on the lever. The section could be released slowly or quickly. Awineth disengaged it so that it fell suddenly, and with a crash it hit the floor. A soldier who had been clinging to the rungs on the outside also fell in. Hadon cut his arm off and leaped up the slope of the wall to the entrance. The head of another man appeared. Hadon smote through the helmet and skull. The man fell straight down, dislodging two below him. They fell screaming past the torchlight below and into the darkness.
Cautiously Hadon stuck his head out. But there was no one above him.
Ten men were still on the rungs below. He carried the bloody body of the man he had first struck down and eased it over the side. It struck the top man, and three hurtled together down the shaft. The others began to climb down. Hadon went into the bedroom, seized, a heavy chair, brought it back, and dropped it. Three men were knocked off. That left two desperately climbing back down. Paga and Kebiwabes brought in another chair and a heavy marble bust. Hadon dropped the bust, after which the chair was not needed.
“There are still men in the horizontal shaft,” Hadon said. “How many, I don’t know. I will soon find out.”
Hinokly entered the room, saying, “The king’s men are beating on the door.”
“If we pile heavy tables and some of those statues against the door, we can delay them,” Hadon said. “And it would help if we could fire the room. Awineth, have you any flammable materials?”
Awineth did not answer for a moment, because the palace shook and rumbled. More objects struck the dome far above them. When the palace had quit shaking, Awineth said, “There is a charcoal fire always burning before the image of Great Kho in the chapel beyond the reception room. You can set the draperies on fire with that. And perhaps the furniture will catch fire.”
Hadon went into the reception room, which was noisy with the crashings of a heavy object against the door. Then there was a pause, and he heard Kwasin’s bellow.
“Let me in, you fools! It is I, Kwasin!”
Hadon hurried to draw the massive bar. Kwasin entered, looking disheveled and sweaty, but his expression was triumphant. He carried the Ax of Wi and Karken.
“Here, stripling!” he shouted. “Here is your sword, which you were too timid to go after!”
Hadon shot the bar and said, unbelievingly, “Ten numatenu slain, and in so short a time!”
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Kwasin put his ax down and began to pile chairs, tables, and statues before the door. “Ten numatenu! Ten ghosts! They were all gone! Evidently Minruth had called them to his side. So I broke down the door with my table and went in for my ax. There were two swordsmen inside, making sure, I suppose, that no assassins sneaked into the apartments to surprise the king when he returned. I slew them and then hunted for my ax. I found it, and with it your sword, which I brought along for you, though I should have sent you after it. No thanks to you that we have our beloved weapons! But when I came back, I looked down the great staircase in the northeast corner, and I saw that a horde, an ant stream of men, was swarming up the steps. I ran into a room and dragged out four heavy tables and put them at the head of the stairs with a marble statue of some king or other. When they had rounded the last landing and were coming four abreast up the steps, I raised the oak table above my head and launched it at them. It crushed scores and knocked down many more.
“Then, as the survivors behind came over the table and the pile of corpses, I threw the second table at them. And when the next wave came, I crushed them with the third table. By then they had decided to retreat, but I dropped the statue on more and hastened their flight. I ran down to this room then, only to find that you had locked me out. I was breaking down the door with another table, and cursing you for your lack of foresight, when you opened the door.”
“I thank you for the sword,” Hadon said.
He helped the others tear down draperies and pile furniture, and he dumped the brazier of coals on several papyrus rolls. These blazed, presently the draperies were afire, and the wooden furniture began to smoke. A moment later, axes crashed against the door. They ran to the entrance room, where Hadon climbed out onto the first rung, with Kwasin behind him.
When he reached the sixth rung above the opening of the horizontal shaft, Hadon tied the end of the rope to the rung. He then untied the end attached to the bottom rung and hauled it up. Holding his sword in one hand, and the rope in the other, he launched himself down and out. The rope carried him in an arc which brought him within the opening. He released it and swooped in against five startled soldiers. His feet knocked down one torch carrier, and he fell heavily on his back. The pain of the impact on his raw back almost tore a scream from him. But he was up quickly and laying about the others before they could bring their swords into play. Two fell, and two retreated to spread out as far as the tunnel would allow them. Hadon whirled, kicked the torch carrier in the face, knocked him against the wall, and cut his head off. He whirled again, but he did not charge. In a moment Kwasin hurled in, fell forward on his face, cursing and skinning his knees, but he retained his hold on his ax. At sight of him the two soldiers fled.
Hadon and Kwasin picked up the two torches. When Paga came down the rope and was drawn in, Hadon handed him a torch. Kwasin held the other while they went after the soldiers. These had gone into the shaft leading to the shaft above the cell. The last one was just going down a ladder. Kwasin ran bellowing into it, dragged up the ladder as far as it would go, and banged it around. The soldier screamed as he fell.
Kwasin chopped off the ladder level with the floor. Hadon pulled the rest on up until its end hit the ceiling. Kwasin chopped three more lengths, after which the pieces were dropped down the shaft to discourage the soldiers from looking up it. Hadon said, referring to Paga and the others, “They must all be near the bottom of the lower ladder. Let’s go.”
On returning to the big shaft, they saw by the torchlight that Hinokly and Kebiwabes were still climbing down. The rest were at the foot of the ladder, looking anxiously upward. Hadon and Kwasin climbed down, the latter holding the end of the torch between his teeth. When they got to the bottom, Kwasin took the lead, and they followed him down a shaft running at an oblique angle. They came out into an immense tunnel fifty feet wide which ran straight into the darkness. They stood on an apron of stone holding, as Hinokly had described, a number of long slim boats and barrels of supplies. They broke open the barrels and put food and some extra weapons in the two boats. Seven boarded one; Kwasin took the other. The torches were inserted in sockets near the prow, and they shoved off into the dark stream and began paddling.
The stone walls were smooth for a while; then openings appeared, out of which sewage poured. They had just skirted one of the noxious cataracts when Paga said, “We are being followed.”
Hadon looked back and saw four lights in the distance. He said, “Paddle faster. And be prepared for trouble ahead, too.”
The shaft abruptly began to narrow, and its roof angled downward. Hadon had expected this, since there would be no other reason for the overhead runners. In a minute the wooden strips were scraping against the stone overhead, and the boat was pressed downward. They dug their paddles into the water and shoved, forcing the boats ahead, the wood grating against the stone. The water rose almost to the wales, making Hadon wonder if the boat was not overloaded.
Suddenly the tunnel enlarged, and they saw the opening about sixty feet ahead. It was lit by torches and by a light beyond them the nature of which they did not comprehend at once. As they paddled closer, they saw a fiery mass splash into the bay, and they smelled brimstone.
“Khowot explodes!” Kebiwabes said.
Hadon had anticipated guards here. There was a platform of stone about ten feet above the water level, and torches flared there. But the guards had deserted their post.
It was no wonder. As they emerged onto the choppy waters of the bay, they cried out. Another flaming object was falling from fire-lit skies, falling toward them.
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There was no time to change course. Their fate was in the hands of Kho. The mass struck between the two boats with a roar and disappeared with a great wave and a cloud of steam. Hadon’s boat reared up, up, so high and at such a steep angle that he thought surely it would fall back and turn over. But it suddenly leveled and plunged downward. A moment later they were paddling ahead again.
The volcano was spouting flame. A many-miles-broad sheet of bright red flowed down its side toward the city and the area to the northwest. Flames of sulfur filled the air, causing them to cough violently. Flames and smoke arose also from the buildings on the shore and up the hills. What Minruth had not burned, Khowot was now destroying.
Hadon gave the order to drive straight ahead. He had planned to go along the shore northeastward until they came to the entrance of the canal which ran down from the lower lake near the coliseum of the Great Games. But that was too close to the volcano. By the time they got there, the lava might be filling the upper part of the canal. It would be better to go much farther north, past that canal which ran straight to the bay from the larger upper lake. And perhaps, when they got there, they would find that they must continue their flight on the water. The buildings beyond the upper canal were burning here and there, though the whole area was not yet afire.
“At least, we can get lost in the confusion!” Hinokly called to Hadon.
Hadon hoped so. The bay was swarming with boats and ships, all heading toward Mohasi and Sigady islands. A naval galley passed them on their left, its gong master beating a tempo that indicated the depth of desperation and panic of those aboard.
Hadon glanced behind him again and saw three boats full of men paddling after them. Their bronze armor and helmets gleamed dully in the red light. An officer standing up in the prow of the lead boat was pointing at them and shouting. At least, his mouth was open and working. The rumblings and the explosions overrode everything, even the yelling and screamings of the panicky mob ashore.
“They’re not going to quit their chase!” Hadon shouted back. “Faster! Faster!”
The waters were becoming increasingly choppy, no doubt agitated by the quakes. They were shipping water, and though Hadon hated to lose any paddlers, he ordered Kebiwabes to help Abeth bail with helmets.
Presently, with the chasers drawing nearer, they passed the mouth of the lower canal. People swam toward them, shouting fo
r help. Behind them was a horde, heads bobbing in the waves, arms waving. On the shore was a mob rushing into the water. Behind them a wall of flame ravened.
Hadon directed the boat outward then, because he did not want to be slowed down while beating off the swimmers. If several managed to cling to the boat, they would pull it under. His heart ached for them, especially for the children he saw among them. But trying to save even one would cause all aboard to perish.
Ashes were filtering through the smoke now, ashes that burned and stank. Those on the boats became gray, as if they were ghosts, and the surface of the water was thick with gray. For several minutes the visibility was so limited that they could not see their pursuers. Hadon hoped that now they could elude them. But after five minutes, the ashes suddenly became less, and the first of their chasers, phantom-gray, solidified from the cloud. A moment later the second boat emerged. The third, however, seemed to be lost. Perhaps some of the swimmers had grabbed it and overturned it. In any event, the odds were now cut down.
It was a long pull under such conditions. By the time they reached the mouth of the upper canal, only Hadon and Paga had any strength left. Their boat slowed down while the pursuers continued at an unremitting, though slow pace.
The shore here was the closest point to the eastern end of Mohasi island, which accounted for the greater number of swimmers here. To try to put ashore would only bring the boats among them. Yet they could not paddle much longer.
Kwasin, who had been looking back frequently, suddenly turned his boat around and came at them. Hadon ordered his paddlers to steer away. Kwasin bellowed, “Lalila! I will stop the soldiers! When I come back alive, I claim you as my reward! I am doing this for you! You will be mine!”
Lalila tried to yell at him, but she was too tired. She said weakly, “I will never be yours.”
Hadon shouted, “Kwasin! You may do what you wish, but Lalila is no cow to be bought and sold! She loathes you!”