quick.” Al’An paused. Then, “Wisnewski, I think we’ve got him. And he may have a grenade. Be ready. I’m on the south end of the main building, proceeding west along a corridor. I’m keeping the line open.”
“This way, Al’An!” Swan turned the corner of the passageway through which they had run, raising her skirts higher now as she started down the stairs.
“Is this the stairway that you saw?”
“He is two levels below us, moving toward the entranceway to the great hall through which all who come here must pass.”
“He’s heading for registration on the main floor. Don’t move on him yet, but be ready. He’s wearing a pig mask with tusks, got a sword, a bag that’s probably got the device in it. And he may have a gun on his sword belt. Black cape, grey thing like a sportcoat Christopher Columbus could have worn, grey tights,” Al’An told his magical advisor.
“Your enemy quickens his pace, Al’An.”
“If he detonates a fragmentation grenade in the main lobby, Brownwood could kill dozens of people. You stay back well behind me by the stairs. Don’t get anywhere near me. I mean it, Swan!”
When they reached the level one above where the evil one trod, Swan fell back, letting Al’An stride past her. But she would not let him battle his evil foeman alone. Magically breaking the peace bond which secured her sword, she ran down the stairs, in Al’An’s footsteps.
Al’An was a fast runner, and a good jumper, Swan observed. He was bounding down the stairs three at a time, then leapt the final five treads, breaking into a long-strided run. She could hear him still as, once more, he spoke with his magical advisor. “I see Brownwood heading for the doors. It’s a grenade. Wait for him outside. Move! Move. Move now, Wisnewski! I’ll be right behind him coming fast!”
As she ran, Swan tried picturing in her mind what a bomb must be like. This “grenade” thing must be some sort of bomb, as well. It would be an explosion, an eruption of great force and energy, like—
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Swan could see both Al’An and his black-caped foeman. The evil one was walking determinedly past a small group of people. Brenda, the half-cat, half-female, stood among them.
Brenda called to the evil one. “Hey, Wilton! Where you been?” Brenda reached out to him. He shrugged away. She stepped toward him. He pushed her to the floor.
The young man Swan had earlier seen—the one dressed as a courtier—jumped toward the evil one, fists clenched and ready.
Al’An shouted, “No! Don’t touch him!”
Al’An’s magical advisor fell from his hand. In its stead was an object such as she had seen earlier worn by a passerby on the stairs. Gardner had told her that it was a laser pistol, and explained its use. But Alicia had told her that a laser pistol was not a real weapon, only a toy. Al’An needed a real weapon, a sword, and Swan was about to make hers appear magically in his hand, but things began to happen too quickly.
The courtier threw a punch and missed, then smashed his body against the evil one. The evil one stumbled back, raised the hand which held the grenade and cried aloud, “I’ll blow up everybody!”
Al’An did not use his laser pistol weapon, but instead hurtled himself against his foeman, Al’An’s upper body colliding with the evil one’s chest, both Al’An and the evil one falling to the floor. Al’An grappled with the evil one, Al’An’s knee hammering against the evil one’s face and chest, Al’An’s hands struggling to pry the grenade thing from his foe man’s grasp.
Swan ran forward to join the fray, brandishing her blade in the air above her head. “Give way! Give way!” Swan commanded, the crowd of people in the great hall splitting asunder before her.
Swan stopped, a few spans from where Al’An and his foeman writhed in combat, her sword clasped in both hands beside her right shoulder, its blade readied to arc downward and cut the life
“This way, Al’An!” Swan turned the corner of the passageway through which they had run, raising her skirts higher now as she started down the stairs.
“Is this the stairway that you saw?”
“He is two levels below us, moving toward the entranceway to the great hall through which all who come here must pass.”
“He’s heading for registration on the main floor. Don’t move on him yet, but be ready. He’s wearing a pig mask with tusks, got a sword, a bag that’s probably got the device in it. And he may have a gun on his sword belt. Black cape, grey thing like a sportcoat Christopher Columbus could have worn, grey tights,” Al’An told his magical advisor.
“Your enemy quickens his pace, Al’An.”
“If he detonates a fragmentation grenade in the main lobby, Brownwood could kill dozens of people. You stay back well behind me by the stairs. Don’t get anywhere near me. I mean it, Swan!”
When they reached the level one above where the evil one trod, Swan fell back, letting Al’An stride past her. But she would not let him battle his evil foeman alone. Magically breaking the peace bond which secured her sword, she ran down the stairs, in Al’An’s footsteps.
Al’An was a fast runner, and a good jumper, Swan observed. He was bounding down the stairs three at a time, then leapt the final five treads, breaking into a long-strided run. She could hear him still as, once more, he spoke with his magical advisor. “I see Brownwood heading for the doors. It’s a grenade. Wait for him outside. Move! Move. Move now, Wisnewski! I’ll be right behind him coming fast!”
As she ran, Swan tried picturing in her mind what a bomb must be like. This “grenade” thing must be some sort of bomb, as well. It would be an explosion, an eruption of great force and energy, like—
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Swan could see both Al’An and his black-caped foeman. The evil one was walking determinedly past a small group of people. Brenda, the half-cat, half-female, stood among them.
Brenda called to the evil one. “Hey, Wilton! Where you been?” Brenda reached out to him. He shrugged away. She stepped toward him. He pushed her to the floor.
The young man Swan had earlier seen—the one dressed as a courtier—jumped toward the evil one, fists clenched and ready.
Al’An shouted, “No! Don’t touch him!”
Al’An’s magical advisor fell from his hand. In its stead was an object such as she had seen earlier worn by a passerby on the stairs. Gardner had told her that it was a laser pistol, and explained its use. But Alicia had told her that a laser pistol was not a real weapon, only a toy. Al’An needed a real weapon, a sword, and Swan was about to make hers appear magically in his hand, but things began to happen too quickly.
The courtier threw a punch and missed, then smashed his body against the evil one. The evil one stumbled back, raised the hand which held the grenade and cried aloud, “I’ll blow up everybody!”
Al’An did not use his laser pistol weapon, but instead hurtled himself against his foeman, Al’An’s upper body colliding with the evil one’s chest, both Al’An and the evil one falling to the floor. Al’An grappled with the evil one, Al’An’s knee hammering against the evil one’s face and chest, Al’An’s hands struggling to pry the grenade thing from his foe man’s grasp.
Swan ran forward to join the fray, brandishing her blade in the air above her head. “Give way! Give way!” Swan commanded, the crowd of people in the great hall splitting asunder before her.
Swan stopped, a few spans from where Al’An and his foeman writhed in combat, her sword clasped in both hands beside her right shoulder, its blade readied to arc downward and cut the life
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