“Where are we?” Belag bellowed.
“This is the third Ibanian marshaling field,” Ethis answered, perhaps a little too quickly for Drakis’ liking. “We’re north of Lake Stellamir. It should look familiar; we were here only two days ago. Is that of any help?”
“None,” Drakis spat the word sharply. There was something about the chimerian now that made the back of his neck itch. He was a stranger with far too great familiarity. “It doesn’t matter yet where we are. . what matters is where we find the way out!”
“What? Again?” RuuKag groaned. “You’re supposed to be saving our lives, not leading us from one hopeless, bloody battle to the next hopeless. .”
“Oh, please spare us yet another chorus of this same old song!” Jugar said in a booming voice as he exaggerated the rolling of his eyes. “Next, if you remain true to form, comes your plea for us to return to the embrace of the Imperial Will-may the gods put his Imperial Will where it would be the most discomforting.”
“We haven’t done anything. .” RuuKag growled.
“That’s true,” Mala agreed, her words fast on the heels of RuuKag’s. “Maybe we don’t have to run. .”
“The master and his family are dead and their home burned to the ground,” Ethis said with a sniff that sounded almost bored. “I doubt that the Iblisi will care whether we were the ones who actually held the torch or not.”
“Not if they have to hunt us down!” RuuKag said. “The longer we run, the worse it’s going to get for us. Can’t you see that this-this hoo-mani-is taking all of us for fools!”
“Shut up!” Drakis shouted, turning on the fat manticore, the tip of his sword causing a small indentation in the creature’s abdomen. “You want to stay and wait for the Iblisi’s renowned mercy, then stay-or come and have some hope of seeing another sunrise. But either way, shut up!”
“Drakis!” Jugar had been tugging at the hem of his tunic for some time. “We’ve no time for this!”
Drakis glanced across the defensive line. The screams from the darkness had reached a fevered pitch.
The human warrior shoved RuuKag back in exasperation, then turned to the other manticore. “Belag! I seem to remember a line of trees just outside the totems on the right side. The portal we want is closer on that side anyway. We’ve got to push through this defensive line from behind-they’re not looking in this direction, and it should be easier to get out than in. Rush the line from behind, then down into the trees.”
“Wasn’t that ChuKang’s plan to get the dwarven crown?” Ethis asked at once.
“What of it?” Belag snarled.
Ethis shrugged. “It didn’t work out very well is all.”
“So you have a better idea?” Drakis’ head was beginning to pound again. So far the danger, constant activity, and adrenaline had kept the shadows of his mind at bay, but he could feel them lurking in the corners of his thoughts, ready to tear at his mind.
Ethis considered for a moment, and then his blank face split into a wide grin. “I believe I do.”
The chimerian turned at once, jumping from the platform and striding toward the right side of the line. He raised one of his right arms and then started calling with loud insistence. “Tribune! Tribune!”
Belag’s eyes went wild. “What is he doing? He’ll get us all caught!”
Drakis jumped down off the platform, clearing all of its steps at once, his legs churning as he tried desperately to catch the chimerian and stop him. The human could hear the other members of their fugitive band scrambling after him as well.
It was too late; a Tribune had already heard his calls and turned her angry, grim countenance toward Ethis. Drakis, only steps away, raised his sword preparing to attack the Tribune, part of his mind knowing it was an act of suicidal insanity.