When she saw Haarn get hit by the zombie facing him then stumble back with blood gushing from his shoulder, Druz stepped in, praying to Tymora that she would be in time. She slid her shield under the zombie's blow. The creature's fist would probably have cracked Haarn's skull, but the shield protected him. The shock dislocated Druz's elbow. Biting back a yelp of pain, she stepped in again, still managing to hold the zombie's hand back. She shoved a hip into Haarn, knocking him out of the way. Reversing her sword, grabbing it so that it jutted down from the heel of her hand instead of up, she swept the blade across the front of the zombie. The practiced cuts sliced open the dead thing's unprotected stomach and spilled its guts in twisting coils to the pier. She pushed the shield up, crying out from the pain of the dislocated elbow, and brought the sword across the zombie's throat. The thing's head flopped backward, blinding it to anything in front of it. Druz raised a leg and kicked the zombie backward. Her opponent took three stumbling steps and fell, sprawling over two dead men in Alagh?n watch uniforms. Even as the zombie fell, three more lurched in to take its place. Druz's spirits fell. She hadn't hoped to hold the dockyards after the arrival of the zombie reinforcements. Her experience as a mercenary had made that plain, but she had hoped to live. Gritting her teeth, lifting her shield with her injured arm as best as she was able, she reversed her sword. "All right then, you dried-up, diseased bastards," she growled, "come on and taste good Cormyrean steel. My father made this blade, and he made it to last." Before the zombies could reach her, Broadfoot rushed in. The bear bled from a dozen wounds but was not slowed in the slightest. He snapped and swiped the zombies, breaking them into pieces, then growled in triumph, drawing cheers from the men struggling on either side of him. "Come on," Haarn said. She turned and found the druid behind her. Blood covered his face, and more ran down his arm, which dangled at his side and looked barely strong enough to hold his sword. "Come on," the druid said again. "Fall back to the second position with the others." Druz followed him. She stumbled wearily up the incline leading down to the docks, following Haarn as they leaned on each other. At least they were still faster than the zombies, but that blessing would be short-lived if the way her legs felt was any indication. The zombies never fatigued, and they never got weak from blood loss or hunger. She glanced around at the warriors and druids retreating from the harbor. All of them wore horror-filled faces and bore wounds. The knowledge that the dead would rise up again at Borran Kiosk's hand chilled her to the bone. She gazed at Haarn, watching the scratches heal on his face under the layer of blood. His wounded shoulder knitted itself, rebinding muscle and tissue until only pink skin remained. Haarn shook his head and spoke in a voice that sounded stronger than the hoarse one he'd addressed her with earlier. "It's not my doing." He looked around at the crowd of warriors and druids running with them. "It's a druid. A mass healing." The warriors and druids retreated into the alleys fronting Dockside, the street that ran roughly parallel to the harbor. The zombies came after them, and when they did, crews posted on the rooftops on either side of the alleys poured oil over them. "Fire!" a watch officer yelled. Flaming arrows sped from archers' bows and lit the oil. The twisting flames sucked at what flesh the zombies had left to them, drawing the cartilage tight as the moisture burned from their bodies. Still, more zombies came on. There was no doubt that the second line of defense wouldn't hold either. "Over there!" Haarn shouted, pushing Druz to the left as they cleared the alley. Druz stared through the running figures and spotted Ettrian. The elf was retreating with a group of other men, helping load wounded onto wagons that had been commandeered to evacuate warriors too wounded to fend for themselves. The wagons were nearly full and still they kept piling wounded on while the horses stamped nervously. "Father!" Haarn yelled, urging Druz to greater speed. Ettrian looked up at his son. The elf was covered in blood and gore, and the left side of his face held blistered burns. "You're still alive," the elf said. "Thank Silvanus, but I'd almost given up hope for you." "And I you," Haarn said, hugging his father. Ettrian shook his head. "We're not going to be able to hold the city. The Elder Circle has decided, along with the Alagh?n Watch, to abandon this place." "What of Borran Kiosk?" Haarn asked. "No one has seen him since the ships crashed into the harbor." Haarn's face hardened. "Borran Kiosk wasn't destroyed." "No one thinks that," Ettrian agreed, "but we can't fight him here." "There's more to it," Haarn said. Druz knew he was right. "Borran Kiosk wouldn't have just disappeared during this fight," she said. "He has another agenda. Otherwise he'd be visible here, leading his damned zombies." "What about the skeleton with the jewel?" Haarn asked. "It's never been seen." Haarn looked up, scenting the air like an animal. The wind swooping in off the harbor ruffled his hair, making it look feathery. "I can track the skeleton. I have its scent." He glanced back at his father and added, "It will go to Borran Kiosk. If I can follow it, I can find him." Ettrian hesitated. "Haarn, I shifted earlier to avoid an attack. I can't shift again. Not this soon." "Then I'll find a way to guide you there," Haarn promised. His form compressed and shifted, becoming that of an owl in the blink of an eye. The predatory bird beat his wings and flew into the sky, climbing over the rooftops and heading south. "Ettrian!" Druz shouted over the confusion of the wounded and those trying to help them onto the wagons. "You can't let Haarn go alone. It's too dangerous." The elf's face grew stern and he said, "He's my son, woman, and I won't suffer him to be lost without a fight." He turned and called out names. Three nearby druids shifted into avian shapes-another owl, a hawk, and a falcon-and flung themselves into the sky. All of them winged after Haarn, who was already growing small in the dark sky, gone before Druz had time to realize it. "One of them will come back," Ettrian said when he finished ordering another contingent of men to come to him. "If there's something that can be done then, we'll do it." "If?" Druz screamed. "Damn it! There's no if! Haarn is already out there looking for Borran Kiosk!" "We have to marshal our forces, woman!" Ettrian shouted back. "This is no longer just a battle; this is a war, and a war needs careful-" Broadfoot's growl broke Druz's attention, drawing her eyes to the bear loping through the crowd. She didn't bother to stay and hear the rest of Ettrian's speech. She knew the elf was right, but after everything she'd been through with Haarn, and with the feelings he had so unknowingly stirred within her, she knew that her place-if she could find a way-was with him. Druz went racing through the crowd in the bear's wake. Broadfoot had a connection to Haarn and they always seemed to know where the other was. She hoped it was still true. Pushing herself, she drew even with the bear as people scattered before them, then she knotted a fist in Broadfoot's pelt, leaped, and pulled herself aboard the animal. Broadfoot growled and turned back to face her. Druz thought the bear was going to try to bite her face off, but Broadfoot turned and continued forward, moving into a run when the street cleared ahead. Druz leaned over the bear, holding on tight, locking her legs around his barrel chest. His fur scraped her skin and the wind pushed into her face. Glancing up, she thought she got a glimpse of the owl that was Haarn, but it was gone so quickly she couldn't be sure. She clung to the bear, feeling the huge muscles bunch beneath her. Please, Tymora, she prayed silently. Please let me arrive in time.