“YAAAHH! YAAAHHH!”
Bromm yelling to urge the horses forward rang in my ears as I nearly rolled backwards over the seat in surprise as the wagon lurched forward. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, me or the encampment’s guards as the horses ripped their harnesses away from the men’s grip. I could feel my own hands grip the brake lever tighter, if only to ensure myself I wouldn’t accidentally be thrown or roll back into the bed of the wagon. Bromm had to see there wasn’t much of anywhere to take the wagon, right? I looked over at him and knew this was it. At least we’d be able to set the fuse inside the camp rather than having the gunpowder we were carrying go off outside to little or no effect.
Before I could set the brake and spark the fuse the wagon stopped. Abruptly. Abruptly enough that I saw Bromm flying over our pair of horses, but only to manage a somersault midair and land on his feet. I would have followed suit, albeit gracelessly, if I hadn’t been braced against the brake lever.
“The man has style. Well, here we go.” I thought to myself as I cranked down on the brake lever.
Floki had rigged the sparker of a pistol to the end of the lever to light a slow burning fuse leading to our cargo. Bromm had estimated we would have thirty seconds after it was lit. Hopefully he knew what he was talking about.
Before I could move any further, Bromm had drawn and fired into what looked like empty air next to a tent. If the canvas wasn’t painted red with blood spatter I would have questioned his sanity. Clearly, he knew something I didn’t. I looked back behind the wagon. The two guardsmen that had held the horse’s harnesses were still trying to get their jaws off the ground, but the lady swordsman was beginning pursuit.
As I tried to scramble over the panicked horses, I fell but fortunately I avoided the worst of the falling hooves around me. I saw Bromm’s boots turn and dart away from center of the camp toward where I knew the river should be. Something else, not someone, trailed him closely, I tried to remember if I had hit my head as I fell. I couldn’t be sure and I had my own problems to deal with. The encampment’s men were starting to get a little close for comfort, not to mention the swords-woman closing in.
My hand dashed down to the spell components in my belt pouch as I chanted a couple hushed words and faded from sight. My timing was fortunate, I felt the wind of a lashing sword brush just past me. If I had been visible it surely would have found flesh.
More gunfire, from Bromm I assumed, in the distance. The cavalry in the fields to the north would be on their way soon, hopefully.
I eyed the carefully hidden fuse. It seemed to be burning slower than Floki estimated.
“One sharp eye looking for me down here might spot its sparking glow…time to move.” I thought to myself as my fingers formed arcane symbols.
A flash of the ethereal and then back to the material plane. Ethereal. Material. Ethereal.
With the third hop to the ethereal plane I willed myself to the top of the wagon. Material. The swords-woman had closed on the wagon, and something else was circling above with feathered wings. Something ugly, in so many ways. I knew I was still invisible, but I also knew it could see me clear as day as it screeched and looked directly at me. Arrows peppered the kegs behind me, the swords-woman had retreated to survey the wagon’s surroundings and had begun using her bow.
Ethereal. Talons raked through what would have been my chest.
“It’s now or never,” I thought, “no more time for games, time to get out of here.”
I willed myself forward and away from the wagon.
Material.
My feet felt the crunch of dirt beneath my boots. I took cover behind another wagon that was parked nearby.
Ethereal.
Was it my imagination, my own heart thundering and racing, or could I feel the hoofbeats of the dozen horses approaching the encampment?
I looked up and over the makeshift cover I was behind. The gunpowder kegs in back of the wagon that Bromm and I had arrived in seemed peculiarly quiet in the surrounding turmoil.
Was our timing of the fuse that far off? Was our cache of powder going to blow in the middle of Brethedor’s cavalry charge?
I wasn’t willing to wait and see, it really was now or never.
“Time this right and with a bit of luck you might see tomorrow, Sig.” I whispered to myself.
Material.
Half a second passed as an arcane word of power escaped my lips.
Ethereal.
A spark began to form in a keg of powder.
Material.