Dragonsight by Paul Collins Page B

help.
    ‘That won’t hold him for long,’ Jelindel said. ‘We have to hurry. My plan will only work as long as we have surprise on our side.’
    They peered out the door. No guards. They stepped out and hurried along the corridor.
    Without warning, Fa’red attacked.
    Zimak and Osric crouched in the shadows, conversing softly.
    ‘They’ve been gone a while,’ Zimak said.
    Osric nodded. ‘You say Jelindel is a great mage, and that she has bested this Fa’red and his deadmoon warriors before. Why then has she not displayed her magic? She was easily caught by Rakeem and his men.’
    Zimak remained silent for a moment. ‘There is more than meets the eye with that little vixen,’ he said finally.
    ‘You think she is a traitor?’ asked Osric.
    ‘I think she loves to be underestimated.’
    Osric considered this. ‘According to Daretor, she could have fled ere now, but stayed to free you both.’
    ‘He’s bound to say that,’ Zimak scoffed. ‘Daretor’s in love with her. People in love say anything.’
    ‘Why, then, are you so anxious?’
    ‘I just don’t like waiting. Besides, she’s never really gone against Fa’red directly. He usually sends his lackeys to do his killing.’
    ‘I suppose we just wait then.’
    ‘As usual,’ Zimak said sourly. ‘But wait for what? If they fail, Fa’red’s guards will be swarming over these grounds like ants.’
    ‘Perhaps the only way to win is to lose,’ Osric said.
    ‘Osric, I hope that was meant to be a joke.’
    Osric shrugged and settled deeper into the shadows. ‘I am going to call S’cressling now. If all goes according to Jelindel’s plan, there will be a sign shortly, and we must be ready.’
    Zimak rolled his head, stretching his neck muscles.

    There was some cause for Zimak’s unease. Jelindel and Daretor had run along the corridor and burst into a large dimly lit hall. No sooner had Daretor closed the door, than seven deadmoon warriors rappelled from the ceiling, encircling them with startling speed.
    Jelindel spat out binding spells reflexively, and three deadmoons collapsed instantly, their chests constricted so tightly that the air was almost squeezed from their lungs. The others launched a coordinated attack. Jelindel pivoted on her right foot, sending a spinning side kick into the jaw of one assassin. The other flicked out his arm and barely missed crushing her larynx. She feinted, dropped, and managed to knock him off his feet with a leg sweep, but he sprang up again as though on a trampoline.
    Daretor was faring slightly worse. He managed to wound one attacker with an underhand knife throw, causing him to limp. But he fared worse with his next attacker, who sliced skin from Daretor’s forearm. Daretor locked the deadmoon’s arm beneath his own, and smashed his opponent’s nose with a head butt, dropping him instantly. Cursing his carelessness, Daretor retrieved the deadmoon’s blade from the ground. Blood was dripping from his arm.
    The skirmish was all blurred arms, legs, and feet, each a lethal weapon. Jelindel could utter no more binding spells till the others released their victims and returned to her. Suddenly blue trails of energy warped the air and returned to her. The sorceric blast from her mouth sent the last deadmoon warrior hurtling against the wall, stunning him senseless.
    Jelindel and Daretor leaned against each other, gasping for breath when, with an air-warping flash and a foul stench, something materialised in front of them. Even before half of its body could emerge from a paraworld, Jelindel was dragging Daretor away.
    ‘Do something,’ he shouted as he was dragged backwards.
    ‘I am,’ she wheezed. ‘I’m fleeing. Why don’t you join me?’
    They sprinted across the hall, into an auditorium. The creature’s pursuit was evident in the clattering echoes of its stampeding feet. Doors on the far side of the chamber opened onto a large courtyard.
    Racing across the marble floor, Jelindel and Daretor reached a stone