Frostborn: The Broken Mage by Jonathan Moeller Page B

that matter, perhaps it would have been better to slip away rather than fighting the scouting party.
    What was done was done, and he had to think of a better plan. Calliande had not come all this way only to die a few miles from her goal because Ridmark had failed to anticipate the movements of his enemies. 
    Another pillared gallery opened on the far end of the Dormari Market. A strange fiery glow came from the gallery, and with a shock Ridmark realized the light came from narrow troughs of molten stone that flowed behind the pillars and vanished into hidden channels. He wondered why the heat did not cook them alive, but remembered that the dwarven stonescribes could use their magical glyphs to channel and bind lava, that a combination of the dwarves’ engineering prowess and the lore of the stonescribes used the lava to heat their cities and power some of their machinery. It seemed at least some of those ancient glyphs still functioned in Khald Azalar. 
    “A pity we don’t have any bacon!” said Jager, breathing hard. “We could cook it on spits over those streams of molten stone.” 
    “There is no need, master thief,” said Antenora. “I can summon sufficient fire to cook meat at need.”
    “That was a joke!” said Jager. 
    “I see,” said Antenora. “You were attempting humor.” 
    Morigna coughed out a laugh, but her laugh came to a sudden halt as they reached the end of the gallery.
    They were in trouble.
    The pillared gallery opened into a large courtyard of gleaming stone, lit by a moat of lava across the far wall. Three of the walls were smooth and unadorned, polished so well that Ridmark saw his companions' distorted reflections. The fourth wall was buttressed, and came to a halt a few yards above the rocky ceiling in a battlement-crowned rampart. A narrow stone bridge crossed the moat of lava, reaching to a massive gate of dwarven steel in the rampart.
    A gate which was closed. It looked to have been badly damaged, its surface scarred and charred, and the stonework around it was chipped and broken. 
    “We had better go back,” said Arandar.
    “Too late,” said Ridmark. “We’ll get back to the Market just as the Mhorites arrive. Caius. Thainkul Dural had a secret door. Is there one here?”
    “I doubt it,” said Caius. “Look. There’s no place to stand below the wall. Anyone trying to cross the moat would burn alive in the molten stone.”
    The sound of running boots echoed up the gallery behind them.
    “We could climb up the wall easily enough,” said Jager. “We have rope and grapnel, and I doubt there are any guards atop the ramparts to stop us.”
    “Not enough time,” said Ridmark. They might have no choice, though. Perhaps Antenora could conjure a wall of flame, or Morigna could work a wall of sleeping mist to hold off the Mhorites. If the Mhorites had additional shamans, they could dispel the magic. If Mournacht himself had come, he could shrug off any magical attacks with ease. “Mara, Antenora. Is the gate enspelled?”
    “Considerably,” said Mara. “With powerful magic. I have never seen spells like this before.”
    “I have seen spells of this nature,” said Antenora, “though none with such skill. They are glyphs of locking and resistance and defense, wrought to bind the gate in place. Though they appear to be quite damaged.”
    “Damaged,” said Ridmark. Perhaps Gavin and Arandar, using the strength of their soulblades, could pry the gate open. He dismissed the thought at once. The massive slab of dwarven steel had to weight thousands of pounds. “Caius, is there any way to open the gate?”
    “From the outside? No,” said Caius. “That kind of gate was designed to be opened quickly, to let defenders sortie out and withdraw quickly. There should be a lever on the other side.”
    “That does us little good,” said Kharlacht.
    “We can climb over the wall and open the gate,” said Jager. 
    “Not enough time,” said Ridmark. “Mara.”
    She shook