by Hal Emerson
The man grimaced and opened his mouth to speak, but Davydd cut him off.
“It has to be then,” he said. “You’re our fastest runner. Make it happen.”
The man took a deep breath, then nodded, and sprinted back through the guardhouse, already moving at a fast, loping pace that ate distance easily.
“Qoric,” Davydd said, “go.”
The man took off with his chosen few, staying to the shadows, and ambushed the guard, killing them all before they knew what had happened. Qoric himself took great pleasure in sawing his knife through his guardsman’s neck. A few of the Ashandel disappeared into the gatehouse, and the sound of a snapping chain clanked out and rattled around the side streets by the gate.
Davydd caught one last sight of the castle, and suddenly regretted never having the chance to infiltrate it.
Well, maybe I’ll get the chance to have a go at the Fortress.
Qoric and the others came back after stashing the white-and-gold guardsmen in the gatehouse, and quickly made their way back to Davydd and Lorna.
“Lorna,” Davydd said, “can you – ?”
“Yes,” she answered, and turned to lead the way back up the bridgeway as Davydd waited for Joli and the others.
Fifteen minutes … damn, what happened?
But just as he had the thought, she turned the corner with her squad, and began running toward him, gesturing frantically for him to run as well. Davydd turned and struck flint and steel to the Black Powder he’d been waiting to light, the one with the shortest fuse he could find, and as soon as it caught, he ran past it, following Lorna and the others, Joli and her squad right behind him.
They were halfway up the bridgeway when a series of explosions ripped through the air behind them. Gold lines spider-webbed across his vision, and he knew in the next instant exactly what they needed to do. The stone walkway on which they were running was one of the first to go, and as it titled drunkenly toward the city below, he shouted forward to Lorna, not needing to bother keeping quiet now.
“The house on the right!”
She heard him and veered right, just as the bridge, now unanchored, began to crash down into the houses below it. She jumped, and all the Rangers followed with her, just as the bridge fell past the roof of a seven-story house that looked ready to fall down at the slightest provocation. Luckily, it was sturdier than it appeared.
When Davydd reached the spot, he too dove forward, just managing to clear the ledge, with Joli and her fellow Rangers right on his tail. In a heap, they all crashed to the shingled roof of the building, which swayed dangerously beneath them.
Davydd spun around and looked across the city to see, in the harsh, chemical lights Rikard had had installed to light the streets at night and enforce the city-wide curfew, the six other bridgeways fall as well. Lights turned on across the city, as nearly the whole population woke in alarm, looking out their windows. Alarm bells rang inside Rikard’s compound, but Davydd only smiled.
Let’s see them sift through all that rubble in the time it takes the Commons to realize what’s happening.
The soldiers already in the streets – it looked like a couple hundred of them, but in roving, ill-organized groups – suddenly started kicking in doors at random, all over the city, pulling men and women, screaming, from their houses.
“What do we do now?” Lorna asked.
“Wait for them to realize what’s happening,” he said.
He turned back around and checked the moon again. He hoped the others were in position – this was going to be tight no matter which way it ended.
And then again, flashes of golden light cracked his vision.
“Spread out,” he said quickly to Lorna. “We need to flank the main roadway out of the city and get them going this way. Kill who you can from concealment, but keep out of sight. This needs to be timed perfectly, or else it’ll all go wrong. You grab that side, I’ll stay here. When the guard finally gets through that gate, the Commons will come running right for us.”
She nodded and took half the group across the street as he watched what was going on in the city below. The soldiers were emptying more and more people into the streets, but suddenly there was nowhere to go. They were trying to get into Rikard’s compound, but with the gate locked and the bridgeways down, they were temporarily stymied. And with more and more Commons spilling from their houses, Davydd knew the situation would soon reach a critical mass.
As luck would have it, the two biggest bridgeways had collapsed at just such an angle that they separated the most densely populated half of the city away from where the Elevated lived. Two others bridgeways had broken into pieces small enough and far enough apart that they were quite easy to get around and through – except that their bases were still intact, and presented a huge obstacle to leaving the city via that route.
They’ve got to come this way, or no way.
He smiled.
Davydd shot a look across the street at Lorna on the roof opposite him where she taken her position. Anyone else would have said her face bore no expression, but he knew her – she was just as excited as he was. She made a quick upward motion with her hand, two fingers out, then tapped her ears and just below her eyes and he nodded back. He turned and made the same motion to the Rangers behind him and then held up both hands, fingers spread, and jerked his head at the clock tower that stood visible over the city. You have until the clock strikes ten.
“Go,” he whispered, turning back to the edge of the roof to look down once more as they left, swift shadows moving on the wind, making no sound at all, their hints of green and gold masked completely this night in black. He moved forward slowly, he and Lorna the only ones holding back as the others went forward, many jumping down and descending the sides of buildings to get to ground level where they could be even more deadly.
Davydd looked back at Joli and Qoric, the two he had kept back with him, and they knew, without him even having to say anything, that the time had come. They both pulled out the battle horns they’d brought along, and blew them.
The sound rang out across the city, over the sound of the Commons screaming and fighting the soldiers as the men in the white and gold of Tyne pulled them toward a city gate still closed. Even from this distance, Davydd could see that they had started to grow frantic. There were already too many of the Commons – this wasn’t the plan; they were severely outnumbered.
Kindred arrows suddenly shot out of nowhere, killing a number of the guards and freeing a number of the Commons, who ran unthinking back into the city, directed by the broken bridgeways toward the hidden Kindred.
Davydd stared hard at the fleeing crowd, urging the Aspect of Luck to tell him what to do next, waiting for the next move to come to him –
A Commons man running toward them seemed to glow with light, as if he’d been lit on fire by the sun itself, and Davydd launched himself off the side of the roof to the ledge below, then to a balcony nearby, then to another roof, and finally to the ground, heading for the man.
“You!” Davydd shouted.
The man turned, holding a young, crying girl in his arms. Davydd took in his face, saw immediately the black markings around his eyes and mouth, and almost killed him on the spot.
An apprentice Bloodmage.
“Exiled Kindred!” the man shouted, looking just as stunned as Davydd was.
“We’re here to get you out of the city,” Davydd said quickly, trusting in the Aspect despite his better judgment. “Rikard is trying to kill you – he’s trying to create a massive –”
“Soul Catcher beneath the city,” the man finished, speaking quickly. “I know – I left when I heard what they were doing, and I’ve been living as a refugee in the city. What’s your plan?”
Davydd told him. The man just stared.
“Trust me,” Davydd said, coming further into the light so that the man could see the burned half of his face and the golden eye in its bony socket. Davydd had to give the man credit – he didn’t wince or c
ry out in alarm, but simply took a deep, albeit shaky, breath and nodded.
“So you’re the one that got Tiffenal,” he said. “Good. Man was a bastard.”
I bloody well think I might like this Bloodmage.
Soldiers turned onto the street they were on, as more Commons fled their homes in a huge wave. The soldiers were laying about them with spears, trying to herd them all back toward the gate, but they were too few.
“Will you follow me?” Davydd asked.
“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I’ll spread the word – we’ll see you at the edge of the city?”
“Spread the word?” Davydd asked incredulously.
“Yes,” the Bloodmage said, “I’m not the only one who’s changed his mind.”
He disappeared, shouting names into the crowd, still holding the unconscious girl in his arms. A number of the fleeing men and women turned and caught sight of him as he shouted that the Kindred had come to save them, that the soldiers were trying to take them all the way they’d taken others in the weeks before.
“Follow that man!” the Bloodmage shouted, pointing at Davydd. “And you just might live!”
Davydd nodded, and turned to lead the way down the main road. In a huge wave, they followed him. More soldiers shouted and cursed at them, breaking in from side streets, trying to bar their way. Davydd pulled out his Valerium sword, Titania, and cut them down where they stood. Men of the Commons who weren’t carrying children or belongings bent and picked up the fallen spears, and started attacking the other soldiers themselves. When the tide was well and clearly headed in the right direction, Davydd ran for the nearest building, and scaled it.
He emerged on top of the building just in time to see part of the great city catch fire. He glanced back at the huge clock tower, and saw it was only fifteen minutes to ten now. He checked the moon, and saw he had maybe fifteen minutes on top of that, a half hour total, until the other Rangers burst the dam. They needed to be out of the city and up the first hill before that happened.
“Damn,” he cursed. There wasn’t enough time.
But then a fresh wave of Commons rushed down the street past him, shepherded by the Bloodmage, who was now waving a huge oaken staff and shouting vitriolic bile at the soldiers as he smacked them, knocking them off their feet with heavy swings, and staving in heads, ribcages, and any other target presented.
As many as make it is as many as make it, Davydd told himself harshly. I can only help so many; I just have to hope the rest can fend for themselves.
He caught sight of Lorna and a number of other Rangers running down the street parallel to the main boulevard that led east out of the city, and went to go with her. But as he set his feet on the edge of the building and prepared to shimmy his way down a drainpipe, another huge explosion rocked the city, and Davydd saw the huge gate doors blast apart.
Of course: there was more Black Powder in the barracks.
Davydd watched as the dust settled, and a man dressed all in white, with a white helm, white cape, white cloak, and riding a white warhorse in shining armor, emerged.
Ah, shit.
Davydd leapt off the side of the roof and slid down the pipe, crashing into an old crate that somewhat broke his fall – ah, damn splinters! – and started running beside Lorna.
“Good to see you again,” he grinned at her. “Who’re all your friends?”
She had collected a group of what looked like a hundred men and women, all with swords and spears, but wearing no armor.
“I thought you’d abandoned me,” she said. “I had to fill my dance card.”
“Abandoned you?” he quipped. “Now why would I do that? You’re the prettiest girl here.”
“And you take me to all the best places,” she replied, face stony but smiling with her eyes.
They rounded the corner that brought the street they were on back to the main boulevard, and Davydd saw the huge tide of people had swollen with fresh additions, and they were all running madly now, without restraint or abandon, away from the figure of Rikard.
Why doesn’t he just command them to stay?
“His Talisman must be limited by distance,” Lorna said, as if reading Davydd’s mind. “He needs to be in earshot, or else it won’t work.”
As one, they glanced at the clock and saw it was almost ten. Davydd’s squad of Rangers had just returned, riding the wave of Commons down the street. But there were still more people coming. The clock ticked closer to the hour, and Davydd made a snap decision.
“We need to buy them time,” he said to Lorna.
“No,” she said quickly, “we need to get out of here, or we’ll be trapped along with them!”
“We need to buy them time to get up that first hill so they’re out of the way of the dam,” Davydd said. “We need to make sure he can’t come after them.”
“Fine!” she said. “But not here – this is the center of the biggest street in the city! He’s got guardsmen in spades all on top of being the shadow-cursed Prince of Lions. We cannot stand here!”
“And how far can we go before he can Command them?” Davydd countered. “How far can we retreat before he can yell at us all just to stop in our tracks?”
Lorna growled deep in her throat, but dropped her argument and hefted her axe.
“You’re going to be the death of me, boy.”
“The rest of you,” Davydd said to the Rangers around him, “go! Take everyone with you that you can, and make sure to secure the way!”
They left, which meant Lorna and Davydd were the only two standing amidst the flowing tide of refugees as Rikard rode out at the head of what looked to be hundreds of guardsmen in the white and gold.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Lorna rasped. “Raven said –”
“Screw Raven,” Davydd said, “I want my chance at the Lion.”
He felt a soaring feeling in the pit of his stomach as the Luck took over even more completely, and any thoughts of warnings or consequences were pushed out of his mind.
“This isn’t about that,” Lorna said immediately, her voice carrying a tinge of panic. “This is about letting the others escape. Right?”
“Two birds with one stone,” he said with a manic grin. He saw her focus on his left eye, and he knew it was pulsing with golden light. Fear crossed her face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know her, but he didn’t stay to listen. The gold lines had returned, and they were telling him what to do.
He strode forward, his booted feet clicking against the paved street.
Rikard continued to move forward at the head of his guardsmen, his horse now at a trot as his men ran along beside him, and for the first time since they’d entered the city, Davydd found himself thinking back to the last thing Raven had said to them:
He’s mad, and powerful beyond what you can understand. Do not test him. If you come up against him, run, and do not look back.
Davydd drew his sword, Titania, from the sheath slung across his back, and smiled. Lorna swung her battle-axe in a looping arc, making it whistle, as she kept pace beside him. He silenced his mind as he reached into his sword. He, like his sister Leah, was a Spellblade, and he could send that sword anywhere he could see if he focused hard enough. He swung the sword loosely in his hand, feeling the Valerium blade hum in anticipation.
He sped up, gathering speed, and then stopped and spun, swinging the sword in a huge looping arc, throwing it straight as an arrow at the distant form of Rikard. Pushing it with his mind, his eyes narrowed to slits, he watched as it flew straight and true, slicing through the air straight for the white figure. At the last instant, Rikard raised his first sword, the ornate but comparatively simply broadsword he wore at his side, and swatted the blade out of the air.
But Davydd was too fast for him, and at the last second sped the blade up the last extra bit he could. Rikard’s blow hit too high on the blade, and the sword sliced across his shield arm, the Valerium metal cutting through his armor and biting into the flesh beneath.
&n
bsp; The Prince of Lions threw back his head and shouted wordlessly into the night. Davydd felt his whole body rock with the force of the cry; he staggered back, and watched as whole rows of Rikard’s guardsmen fell short in mid-stride, screaming in pain, and went crashing to the ground as blood poured from their ears. A halo of white light suddenly burst from Rikard’s great helm, and Davydd found himself nearly blinded.
With a mental tug, Davydd pulled Titania back to him, just as the clock in the large central tower began to strike the hour of ten.
“Time to go,” he said to Lorna with a grin, and turned to run, just as Titania flew the rest of the way back into his hand.
A word that vibrated through their bones like thunder rang out from the center of the city, a word that seemed to roll around them and try to gel the air itself, holding them in place, but their Aspects saved them, and they ran for their lives. More words were shouted, words that made no sense but crackled with power, and they ran even faster, trying desperately to catch the flowing tide of Commons.
Next they heard the sound of hooves behind them, and Davydd shot a look over his shoulder to see Rikard charging forward, the guardsmen who hadn’t been struck down by the Prince’s roar running and shouting along behind him. Davydd was running as fast as he could, but Lorna was already loping along in front of him, the Aspect of Endurance shining gray light out from her boots and gauntlets. His right foot had begun to pound terribly, and he suddenly remembered the crate he’d crashed into and the splinters …
“Lorna,” Davydd gasped, “I think I might need a bit of help –”
She reached back and grabbed him, slung him across her shoulders, and began to run faster than should have been possible. Davydd looked down as he bounced about on her shoulders, and saw her boots break apart in shreds of leather, burned away by the brilliance of the light beneath them. Their speed increased even more, and they were running with such vigor that Lorna was leaving deep gouges in the earth.
“There!” Davydd said, pointing.
They had reached the edge of the city, where the last dam stood. The whole of Tyne was situated in a valley that had once been a deep lake. A series of dams that were heavily guarded in normal times held the water back now, water that was diverted to the huge grain fields to the south, what was called the bread basket of the Empire. But between the army gathering and the Bloodmage ritual, they’d be lucky to have enough men guarding the Lionshead, the largest of the dams, to put up a decent fight against a squad of Rangers.
