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Alembord and his team had been very busy indeed.

Three neighboring structures had been torn apart and re-formed into the dam that now abutted the tower. There was no entrance to this tower, which Alembord had taken to suggest that it was not a normal tower at all. Rather, a solid stone structure had been erected here to maintain regularity. But the original designers had most likely decided they could not fashion a hollow edifice directly in front of the lake. The risk of it collapsing in spring floods was too great. This was important, Alembord explained, for it meant that the guards could not descend to ground level and fight them off.

Alembord’s company had first demolished a massive building, the one closest to the tower. Myron and his most gifted acolyte burned a great hole into the tunnel, then the other three mages compressed the rubble, tighter and tighter, until it formed . . .

A giant stone cork. Which they jammed down tight, filling the tunnel entirely. Sealing off the water’s flow for the first time in millennia.

Meanwhile, guards along the high ramparts had shouted and fired arrows, but neither had had any impact on the mage shields. So they had sent runners the five hundred paces in each direction, to where neighboring towers could grant them access to the streets. But long before reinforcements could arrive, the city’s militia had far more urgent matters to contend with.

The dam blocking the tunnel had only been the beginning of Alembord’s mischief.

The dammed river had to go somewhere. Not even a magically protected city wall could remain sealed against such a force. Especially in a deluge that strong, with the lake’s water level rising at an alarming rate.

North of the city, the rain-swollen river continued to run into the lake. With nowhere else to go, the lake fed more and more water into the moat. The city’s three portals became rivers themselves, flooding the markets and stables and streets. But not even that was enough to stem the flow.

Two of Alembord’s mages hammered the tower and adjoining walls with a constant barrage of lightning bolts. Using this as cover, Alembord’s remaining two wizards assaulted the tower’s base. This had been the core of his strategy, fashioned with Edlyn the previous night—assuming Dally’s image and the accompanying emotions were all correct, this mock tower formed the key to their escape.

But the wall was protected by centuries-old magic. Which meant . . .

The only logical answer was to attack the foundations.

They did not bother with subtleties like melting rock. As Edlyn had said, the time for subterfuge was long over. Once they had cleared the ramparts of defenders, Myron and his mages blasted through the cobblestones fronting the mock tower, down to where they breached the tunnel ceiling. Except these holes were steeply angled. Which meant they burrowed under the tower.

Myron was still cutting the first hole when the highly pressurized water finished the job for him.

The remaining earth and stonework blasted out, followed by a solid liquid cannon blast. The roar was immense, the power staggering. The geyser stripped away roofs and upper floors from buildings three streets away.

Myron and his company completed two more funnels, these angled even more sharply. And a fourth. A fifth. A sixth . . .

And then the tower crumbled.

Great cracks ripped apart the cobblestones. The earth groaned from the damage Alembord’s company had wreaked. The cracks ran like stone veins up the city wall to either side of the ruined tower. Nature did battle with the wall’s ancient magic. Nature won.

Despite the holes and the moat and the city’s portals, the rain-swollen river and moat and lake all continued to rise. By the time that sixth hole opened, waves actually pushed against the wall’s ramparts. With the foundations eaten away and the tons of water massed on its other side, the tower broke free of the wall and fell inward with a mighty sodden crash.

This was when Alembord’s team became truly busy.