Not taking the bait, eh? Her breath came loud in her ears, sweat starting to dew her temples, but she wasn’t tired. She felt warm and ready to fight. They didn’t seem to have quite her stamina, as their breath came loud and fast, expelled in white puffs of smoke in this cold night air.
She had no desire to stay out here all night fighting. Fine, if they wouldn’t come, she’d go to them. With three quick steps, she closed the distance and lashed out again.
This time they tried to flank her, each coming around to a different side, lashing out at the same time. She spun like a dancer, both swords whistling up and around, blocking the attack and taking her out of the center of danger.
Siobhan raised one blade high, going for an overhead attack, and when the other man raised his sword high to block it, she kicked him square in the chest. His breath exploded from his lungs in a gasp and he stumbled back, clutching at himself as he struggled to get air.
The last man standing lost his head at seeing his friends defeated and he rushed her with a growl of frustration. His strikes became sloppy, predictable, and she smacked him hard in the ribs with one sword as she fended him off with the other. He doubled over in pure reflex, gasping in pain, and as he did she rammed an elbow against the back of his neck. With nothing more than a groan, he slid to the ground face-first with a soft thud.
Siobhan took in a breath and looked around, but none of them were moving. She whipped around to look for Rune only to find him in the center of equally still opponents. He looked unfazed by their brief skirmish, and he had a thoughtful hand against his chin and an admiring look in his eye.
“Injuries?” she demanded of him, not sure if the darkness was hiding something.
Rune waved this away with a negligent flick of the fingers. “Fine. But ya know, Siobhan, ya led me ta believe yer not that good a fighter.”
She raised an eyebrow at him as she slid both swords home. “I’m not.”
He snorted. “Who ya compari’n yerself to? Wolf-dog? Tran? ‘Cause those two are monsters. Not many can face them. But I watched ya just now, and ya fought like a goddess of war. Sent chills up my spine, it did.”
“Rune,” she said patiently, “you finished off three opponents while I was still downing my second one, and you want to say I’m a good fighter?”
“I’m a monster too, ya know,” he responded with a wicked grin.
He rather had a point there. Well, perhaps she had understated her fighting abilities a little. Just a little. But she could argue the point later, right now there were more important things. “Did they attack below too? How’s Tran?”
“Fine,” he assured her. “Tran saw ‘em comi’n.”
“Go check on him,” she ordered. “I’m ringing the bell.”
Even though they were more vigilant after that pre-dawn attack, nothing happened that day or the next night. Siobhan wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Now that the enemy knew they were prepared to fend them off, would they change tactics again? Or would they stick to this idea and simply send in more manpower?
The men they did capture weren’t at all helpful. They were from a dark guild of Quigg, something similar to Silent Order in Sateren, and the information they possessed was little indeed. They were hired by a foreign guild to stop anyone working on the bridge. That was all they knew and all they cared to know. Questioning them further proved to not only be futile, but frustrating.
In the end, they turned the whole lot of them over to the enforcing guild of Quigg—who was delighted to have known criminals in their custody—and returned to guarding the bridge.
Grae went back with Romohr to deliver reports and letters on a daily basis, coming back with teams of masons, stones, and mortar so that repairs could be started. Beirly explained to her that they had a very limited time to work on the bridge and get anything constructive done. The weather had to be warm enough for the mortar to set, and they were quickly losing the year’s heat. When winter set in, they would be forced to stop and wait for spring.
Perhaps because they were racing against time, both Jarnsmor and Darrens promised to send guards for the bridges by the end of the week. All Deepwoods had to do was keep the place safe for another four days.
Siobhan prayed they’d be able to manage that.
This silence and lack of enemy movement made her nervous. It had been proven to her several times over that if one plan failed, they wouldn’t give up, but simply switch to something else. She also realized that so far, they had never been able to predict what their enemy would do next. This uncertainty of what to expect made her stomach tie itself into knots. How could she possibly prepare for the unknown?
Siobhan retired that night uneasy, and even though her bed was inviting and warm, she kept tossing and turning on it. Four days. They had to hold out for four days and then it would be someone else’s problem to worry over. For what had started as a quick rescue mission, she certainly had become involved in a lot of the world’s problems.
Growling, she flopped over onto her other side with a squeak of bedsprings, punching her pillow a little to fluff it up, trying to get her nerves to settle. Sleep. She needed to sleep. She was on third watch this time and it would mean getting up in five hours. Siobhan was not the type to function well on only a few hours of sleep, so it was vital to get whatever rest she could.
Her eyes slowly closed. Deep breaths. Conli had taught her how to relax each main muscle, breathing deeply as she did so, in order to fall asleep. Feet first. Calves. Thighs. Back. Good, she could feel herself relaxing.
The sound of a bell being frantically rung reverberated through the still night air, loud enough that she could clearly hear it through the shuttered window. DONG DONG DONG.
Her eyes flew wide and she threw back the covers, hastily throwing on clothes while trying to jam her feet into her boots at the same time. She didn’t even bother to belt on her swords, just grabbed them, flinging the door open and racing down the stairs. Three rings meant someone was on the bridge, an enemy, and she needed to get there now.
Everyone stumbled out of their rooms at nearly the same time, but she wasted no breath calling for a head count, just kept going. The cold air slapped her in the face as she made it through the front door, making her gasp for breath, but that didn’t make her falter either. She lengthened her stride, running at full speed. Even still, Tran and Rune quickly outstripped her, Fei following close on their heels. How in the four winds could they be so fast? She wasn’t that slow!
It was just as well that they were that fast.
Her heart stumbled over a beat when she finally came into full view of the bridge. This wasn’t the half a dozen attackers of two nights ago, but what looked to be a full guild of fighters. Every person on the bridge was engaged with at least two opponents, fighting hard and desperately, but there were still some enemies left over with…were those barrels? Small kegs? In this hazy moonlight, it made it hard to see details.
Markl, who was panting along behind her, managed to gasp out, “Those are…black powder barrels, aren’t they?”
Her blood ran cold when she realized he was right. Great wind and stars! Were they planning on finishing the job and blowing up the rest of the bridge?!
Making a snap decision, she barked out orders. “Denney, set the dogs on them, harry them so they can’t light those fuses. Sylvie, call for more help, we’re going to need it. Conli, Markl, help me push those barrels off into the ocean. If they’re wet, they can’t be used.”
She heard and registered the chorus of assents, but did not focus on them, just sprinted the last distance and engaged the nearest men. Like their compatriots two nights ago, these men wore dark clothing and black cloth wound about their faces. She could only see the whites of their eyes as they looked up, seeing her approach.
They’d been laying out fuses, rags rolled up with oil and black powder, preparing to blow the kegs. She quickly hacked through three of them and kicked them aside, taking precautions against them being us
ed, before charging forward.
It quickly became a melee of confusion. These men weren’t better swordsmen than the last ones she’d faced, but they had numbers on their side. Siobhan quickly found herself fighting back-to-back with Markl, her swords a blur in her hands as she fought desperately to not only protect herself, but him. All around her were the sounds of Pyper and Pete barking and snarling, the clang of metal clashing against metal, and the grunts of pain when a weapon struck flesh. The sounds didn’t tell her if they were winning this fight or not, but it was distracting to her, as she couldn’t decipher who was hit, friend or foe.
Her opponents were less focused on her and more focused on quickly getting the job done and leaving the bridge as fast as they could. It made them sloppy, distracted, and Siobhan found an opening to down two of them. As they fell, a gap opened up, letting her access two of the kegs. “Markl?”
“Go!” he encouraged her, the weapon in his hand rotating as he simultaneously blocked one strike and slashed at another.
She had no time to question if he were truly alright against three opponents. Siobhan trusted his judgment and darted forward, kicking the kegs out of their place and quickly rolling them toward the uneven edge of the bridge before forcing them to fall into the water. They fell, one after another, with satisfying splashing sounds, the cold sea water spraying upward and onto her in the process. Shivering, she wiped the drops from her face as she turned back and raced to Markl.
Three barrels had not significantly helped. Markl had defeated one man while she had her back turned, and as she watched, he slashed at another, sending the man to the ground with a gasp of pain. Her eyes scanned the area, head jerking as she looked this way and that, trying to take it all in. It was complete madness, no matter where she looked. Almost everyone was fighting, black-clothed figures lying still on the bridge. To her dismay, she saw Tran leaning against the railing behind Fei, one arm clamped around his ribs. Oh no, had he reinjured himself? Conli had been very clear that he shouldn’t be fighting for another three weeks yet.
Where was Sylvie with those reinforcements?!
But worse than all of that, she could see several barrels farther along the bridge, on the other side of the destroyed section, and they were perfectly fine. None of her people were anywhere near them, either. How had they managed to get all the way over there, past the people on watch, she had no idea. But it was a problem she would have to deal with, as she was the only one free to do something about it.
Swearing, Siobhan ran toward the next group of barrels, skirting as close to the edge of the bridge as she dared to avoid getting tangled into any of the fights. She reached the trio of barrels stacked against each other and without ceremony kicked it into the water.
Good. Next.
She could hear footsteps thundering behind her and found that Markl was struggling to catch up with her. He was shouting something, but she couldn’t quite decipher the words, and only his tone got through. He was worried, frantic about something, and pointing ahead of her.
What? Siobhan turned her head, looking up, trying to see what it was that had panicked him so.
In front of her, several feet ahead, was a small light on the ground that traveled forward quickly. For the second time that night, alarm shot through her and cold dread seized her heart as she realized what it was. The enemy, in desperation, did the one thing she didn’t want them to do. They had lit one of the fuses and were even now trying to disengage with her guild, desperate to get off the bridge before it blew.
Siobhan swore viciously and stretched out her legs, trying to run faster toward the kegs waiting nearby. At this point, she couldn’t make it off the bridge in time before those things exploded. Her only hope was to get to the barrels and dump them into the water first.
“Siobhan, NO!” Markl screamed behind her.
She didn’t glance back, didn’t do anything but strive with every muscle in her body to beat that fuse. “GET OFF THE BRIDGE!” she screamed as she ran, not sure if the rest of the guild realized what was happening during the heat of the moment. “GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF!”
In that moment, she reached the kegs.
And so had the fuse.
Something hard slammed into her, forcing her swords to drop from her hands. Siobhan barely had time to grunt at the impact as she sailed through the air before her body hit the hard, icy water of the sea.
Heat exploded through the air, brushing past her face briefly before her head went under the water.
The world went black.
ӜӜӜ
“CONLI! GET HERE NOW! SHE’S NOT BREATHING!”
The words faded, and darkness descended again. Vaguely she was aware of being cold, cold enough to shiver and shake, with wet clothes clinging to her. A sense of wrongness stirred in her mind but she found it impossible to react to it.
“Markl?!”
A sloshing noise, and water sprayed over her face, followed by a male grunt of effort.
Markl…this was important. Markl was in trouble. Markl had fallen with her.
It faded from her, sealed again with darkness before she could act or react.
“—on her back, seal your mouth over hers and blow hard.”
Her back touched cold stone, hard and unforgiving. Something warm touched her mouth and air was forced into her. She twitched ever so slightly under the force of it. The air came again, stronger, and this time her lungs filled with it. In instinct, she weakly pushed away and tried to roll to her side as the sea water in her lungs rushed forward. Gasping, wheezing for breath, she coughed and spluttered, grimacing as the harsh salt in the water scraped at her throat. It felt like a sea monster had crawled into her mouth and died, very messily.
“Breathe, Siobhan,” Wolf sounded frantic, panicked, as he rubbed a hand over her back in soothing circles. “Breathe. Throw all that water up and breathe.”
She did her best to comply, drawing air frantically into deprived lungs. Stars swam in her vision for a few moments as she battled for proper breath. As soon as she felt she could manage it, she grabbed his arm and demanded hoarsely, “Markl?”
“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Wolf assured her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up so that she could lean against him. “We pulled him out after you, and look, see? He’s breathing.”
She managed to get her eyes focused on where he pointed. Markl was being supported by Conli and Sylvie as he also coughed up seawater and struggled to breathe. He lifted his head and saw her, and relief flashed over his face. She waved at him, and he choked on a laugh as he waved back.
Relieved, she sank back against Wolf and let him support her completely. “Tell me we’re all accounted for.”
“We’re all here,” he answered, shrugging out of his coat and draping it around her. “It was only you and Markl that we almost lost.”
Good? She was sort of glad to hear that, anyway. “The men that attacked?”
“We defeated some, but they ran before the bridge exploded.”
Of course they had. “More mercenaries from a dark guild, huh.”
“Probably,” he agreed.
“The bridge?” she looked up to see the situation with her own eyes. She and Markl had been dragged onto the banks near the bridge. The gap that had been there previously was larger now, longer than it had been, but she was beyond relieved to see that most of the bridge was still intact. At least this way, they wouldn’t be set back and forced to rebuild a full section of the bridge. Her insane bid to try to protect it had partially succeeded, then. “Who pulled us out?”
Fei and Beirly, both sopping wet, raised their hands. Oh, of course. She should have figured that. They were the strongest swimmers in the guild, after all. “Thank you,” she said to them sincerely, or tried to through her chattering teeth.
Wolf put both arms underneath her and rose to his feet. “We can talk about it later, after you are warm and dry.”
Wonderful plan.
After hearing what had
happened, Jarnsmor and Darrens wasted no time in sending guards. Jarnsmor’s men, having a ready path to travel, arrived first, with the Blackstone men due in two days later. Siobhan and Markl spent the next day in bed, as neither of them had escaped the explosion completely unscathed. Markl’s quick reflexes had saved them from being burned, but chunks of stone had still impacted the water hard enough to hit them as well, leaving behind bruises and one fractured wrist. Markl was good-natured about his injury, claiming it was a privilege to be wounded in defense of a pretty woman. Siobhan, feeling equal parts guilty and thankful, determined that she’d find the perfect moment in the future to pay him back the debt.
A soft knock came at the door before Wolf put his head into the room. “You awake?”
She had spent most of the morning sleeping, still recovering from her near-death experience of the night before. She waved him inside. “How is everything?”
“It’s fine,” he assured her as he fully entered, taking the small wooden chair next to her bed and moving it around to where he could face her comfortably and talk. “Iron Dragain’s guildsmen are arranged all around the bridge and I coached them what to look out for. Ardin said that while the explosion did do significant damage to that portion of the bridge, it didn’t shake the overall frame of it, so he thinks small parties can cross without danger.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. “So we can pass over it and go home.”
Wolf nodded confirmation. “And trade won’t stop completely, it’ll just be bogged up a bit as people try to enter and exit Quigg. They’ll manage a way around that until the repairs are complete.”
“They’d have to think of some sort of system anyway,” she mused aloud, sitting up more comfortably in bed. “After all, the bridges are going to be under renovations for years to come. We’re all going to have to manage travel on it despite that.”
He shrugged, hand splayed in silent agreement. “And you? How are you feeling?”
Deepwoods (Book 1) Page 33
