From afar, Elysia heard a rumble, as if a dragon had cleared its throat from her.
"It looks like a monster." she whispered to Frey.
"It looks more like an engine, Elysia. We'd better go investigate."
They hurried up the stairs and ran along the high gallery that encircled the courtyard. Here and there lay the corpses of sentinels killed by the same weapons they had seen before.
Elysia winced and kept her sword ready, expecting at any moment to run into a pack of ferocious assassins like the ones that had attacked her and Elissa in her bedroom a few nights before.
♦ ♦ ♦
The sensation of speed and power was awesome. Heskit had never experienced anything like it. He had the impression that he could crush anything that got in his way, that he could break through any obstacle. With just that tank, he could defeat any enemy. Visions of vast armies, spearheads of tanks, flashed through his head. With such forces commanded by ferocious ratfolk warriors, they would conquer the world and, of course, One-Eyed Heskit would be appropriately rewarded for his genius in devising such a plan. He would make sure it was.
Heskit looked up to see where he was going. What was that stupid poisoned windthrower doing standing before him with that panicked look on his face?
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia emerged into a gallery that overlooked a huge room that she swarmed with ratfolks.
In the center of the room stood a gleaming carriage clad in metal plates with no horses to pull it. Smoke billowed from its chimneys, and as she watched, she saw the vehicle begin to move. She picked up speed quickly and ran over a small ratfolk, who was standing up and holding something against him. The ratfolk fell to the ground, something resembling a sphere of gas rolling from its hands, crashing to the ground and shattering to pieces. As it broke from it, a hideous cloud of greenish gas erupted from it, and all the ratmen below who were struck by the cloud clutched at their throats and fell to the ground, spitting blood. They lay sprawled on the ground, tails wagging and feet stamping on the ground. In a way, it looked like they were drowning.
She remembered what Frey had told her about gas weapons, and the terrible moments she had gone through during her fight with the wererats in the sewers, when she believed he had been gassed. She also remembered that Frey had suggested that the solution was a urine-soaked handkerchief placed in her mouth. At the time she had neither the time nor the inclination to test such a theory, and she noted gratefully that the gas appeared to be heavier than air, so it did not rise very far. In fact, it was already beginning to disperse.
♦ ♦ ♦
"I'm dying?" Heskit wondered. Or did I manage to hold my breath in time? She didn't know. His eyes stung from the gas leaking from the open hatch, and the two slaves lay before him, gurgling and panting. She didn't feel any pain. Perhaps the instant of warning he had had when she saw the pitcher had been enough. She had just enough time to take a deep breath and hold it. Of course he hadn't wasted that air shouting a warning to the others. Fortunately, the quickness of his mind had saved him.
He made a teary-eyed effort to break through the green mist and steer the tank into the clear air. She heard the sound of something crashing into the tank and then something being crushed underneath, and she thought she heard a scream of agony. She ignored him and concentrated on staying alive, which was the most important thing.
His lungs felt as if they were about to burst, and his heart was beating three times faster than normal. She had already secreted the musk of fear and soiled her pretty armor, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered at that moment was not to breathe until he saw clean air and to stay alive despite the treacherous attack of that poisoned wind thrower.
All around him he heard sounds of confusion, ratfolks shouting orders and weapons preparing to fight.
"They attack us!" she heard Chillachilla shout.
As the sniper shells began to slam into the sides of the tank she realized the idiots thought he was attacking them.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia watched the carnage with growing confusion. The gas had killed a dozen ratfolk, and the rest of the ratmen had turned on the armored carriage. Several groups of ratfolk armed with long muskets had begun firing close range at the tank. Two strangely equipped ratfolks were manning a huge and very heavy-looking weapon, in order to position it in a position from which they could fire on the armored car.
Was there a human still alive down there, who had somehow managed to get the war machine going? Was he at that moment fighting for his life and in desperate need of help? Elysia turned to consult with her partner, and she realized that Frey had left, although she couldn't think of where.
The ratfolks had managed to get that strange weapon into position. One of them remained crouched with the barrel on his back while the other manipulated the weapon connected to it. Suddenly, a flame shot out and spread in the direction of the armored carriage, to whose metal plates it adhered burning brightly. The glow illuminated the entire room, making Elysia stand out in sharp relief; she knew because suddenly all the ratfolks were pointing at him and talking between shrieks.
She had the terrible feeling of knowing what was going to happen at that moment.
♦ ♦ ♦
Heskit closed his eyes, hoping she would see again when he opened them. The heat was intense, and the flamethrower's tongues of fire entered the tank's vision slit. Heskit screeched and excreted the musk of fear again, causing her to soil the seat below her.
"Enough! Enough! Stupid! she squealed. "It's me, Heskit, your boss!"
If anyone heard it over the roar of the tank she gave no sign of it. It was all confusion and madness. It was possible that his kin had lost sight of him in the commotion and thought he was a human attacker. There was also the possibility that some vilely ambitious underling knew that he was inside the tank and seized the opportunity to murder his superior.
In fact, the more Heskit thought about the second option, the more likely he found it. Those who handled that flamethrower, for example, did not stop the attack despite their express order. They could tell they hadn't heard it because of the roar of the engine, but Heskit knew better. Then she could see everything with total clarity. The scuffle was part of a conspiracy to remove him from his rightful charge. He wouldn't be in the least bit surprised to learn that The Black Magician Dhalthar was behind it all.
Filled with a legitimate vengeful rage, Heskit bared his teeth angrily and steered the tank straight at the ratfolks firing the flamethrower. The treacherous vermin realized too late the danger they were in, and tried to get out of the way. Heskit was gratified by the crunch of his bones under the wheels, and then there was a hideous bang as the cannon of phosphorescent chemicals exploded.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia was trapped. Ratfolks streamed onto the balcony where she stood like a furry, scowling tide. There were dozens of them; they were too many to fight all of them. She didn't doubt that she could kill one or two in that narrow passage, but as she did so others might pounce on her from behind her and plunge their little swords into her back.
Damn Frey! Where was she when she needed him?
As if answering her mental question, she heard a thunderous scream from below. Elysia risked a quick glance and saw that the dark hero had appeared in the room and was leaving a trail of dying wererats in his wake. His helmet seemed to completely seal around her face. It was evident from Frey's nonchalant way of fighting that his helmet avoided the risk of being gassed.
She also saw that the armored carriage continued to advance down below. Flames blazed around the vehicle, which crashed and bounced across the shop, leaving a trail behind it; It looked like a comet that crushed everything in its path. Then she spun around and came to a near stop, her front end facing the dark hero.
Frey continued where he was, facing the gigantic machine, in every way like a matador facing a bull. All around Frey, ratfolks were running for cover in panic.
This was all he had time to see Elysia, as the seething mass of ratfolk was on top of her. She knew that if she stayed where she was she would surely die, and since she saw nothing more he could do, she sheathed her sword, climbed onto the baluster, and reached for one of the ropes. Using her hands, she moved swiftly from rope to rope until she was in the center of the room, and there she dangled for a moment to catch her breath.
Suddenly, she felt the rope begin to give under her weight, and when she looked back she saw that a grinning ratfolk was slashing at her with her sword.
"Oh no!" Elysia thought, and the rope finally gave with a snap.